When Winter Comes

by Ringomoon

Summary:

“It can be said the story of Eddard Stark began at the Tourney of Harrenhal. That would be the place and the time that set him onto the course of becoming one of the greatest Kings house Stark has ever known.”

 

—— “Stark Means King: Chapter 60: Eddard The Great”
By Druid Skellig

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

“The great success of the North can be attributed to six actions taken by the Starks over the many years they have ruled, from Winterfell.

The first, to my mind the most obvious: Brandon ‘The Builder’ Stark creating the Wall, Winterfell and starting many other great building projects that wouldn’t be completed until long after he had died. Along with forming a union with the Children of the Forest, the Giants and the Dwarves. Giving them lands in the north, deep in the Wolfswood and in the mountains to dwell in. Some surmise that Brandon himself, had some kinship with the Children of the Forest, but I have found nothing to outright confirm this. Doubtless, the magic of the Children has helped the North greatly, from farming, to building, to warfare and the uses of everyday magic in the North. The same can be said of the Giants and the Dwarves: Strong and hardy peoples, who have fought for the North whenever called upon. The Giant’s herds of mammoth have proved to be a bountiful source of food for the many peoples of the North, facilitating a great increase in population. The Dwarves crafting in metal and stone have also been a great help in construction, alongside their extensive mines in the mountains, that continually provide the North with riches and materials.

The second: Cregan ‘The Mage’ Stark, son of ‘The Builder’ learning the magic of the Children of the Forest and the Runes of the Dwarves, spreading them through the kingdom. As stated, magic runecraft has proved to be a very useful tool to help the people of the North thrive. It was the magic of the Children and the runes of the Dwarves that would eventually help defend the North against the Andals and their own magcis. In learning the magic of the Children and the smithing of the Dwarves, Cregan managed to create and entirely new metal. The word for it in the Old Tonge is ‘Uru’ simply meaning: Unbreakable. It is true, Uru is a remarkably durable and light, yet malleable (under the right conditions) material. Though it is a metal, it looks and feels more like stone. Uru resembles marble with veins of quartz snaking along it’s surface.  It has also proved to be particularly susceptible to enchantment, expanding it’s uses even further. Uru’s purest form has proved a match for the fabled Valyrian steel and the metallurgy of the Rhoynar.

The third, perhaps a controversial choice: Brandon ‘The Breaker’ Stark letting the Freefolk and more Giants settle in the North, increasing the population even more and creating several new houses in the process e.g. house Ryder, house Thenn. ‘The Breaker’ married the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall at the time: Yanna Ryder to pledge himself to the protection of all the peoples of the North: First men, Free folk, Dwarf, Giant and Children of the Forest. This lead to a time of unprecedented growth for the North, while also a time of many skirmishes between the new houses and the older ones. Some feuds that still hold to this day. Never the less, in spite of the numerous ‘small wars’ that went on between houses after the event, I feel it was a good decision to allow the Free folk to live in the North.

The fourth, unsurprisingly: Alfred ‘The Great’ Stark working with the Dwarves and finishing the great canal, connecting White harbour with Saltspear. The only reason he isn’t given the honoured moniker ‘The Builder’ is that there was already an Alfred ‘The Builder’ before him. Not only did Alfred oversee the completion of the Great Canal and many other useful construction works in the North, but he also founded the Architects Guild in the Winter city. He hired builders, architects and workers from all over the North and even Essos to help the guild grow. The guild would go on to work throughout the North, even being hired to work in the South. They worked to build great castles, even more canals and sturdy roads. Even with all of the money made from the new roads and canals, it all paled in comparison to the Great Canal. Connecting one side of the North to the other cut months off long sea journeys for sailors from the Free cities and the west coast of Westeros. With the Canal, house Ryder at Saltspear and house Manderly at White harbour became obscenely rich, though they still payed their dues to house Stark. For these actions, there are few more deserving of ‘The Great’ in the histories of house Stark.

The fifth: Alysanne ‘Kraken’s Bane’ Stark bringing two Witcher schools into the North. These professional monster hunters from the South were a great boon to the peoples of the North. These Witchers are given mutations and enchanted to become more than men, to be able to kill monsters that plague the land. Alysanne paid Witchers from the southern kingdoms to travel north and set up two new Witcher schools. One in the Barrowlands, the other by Long Lake. Witchers from these schools would serve the peoples of the North in seeking out and slaying harmful monsters.

The sixth and final act: Torrhen Stark accepting Aegon Targaryen’s offer to kneel before him and give up his crown. Some might say this is the worst act a Stark king could commit: giving up their crown. However, in doing so Torrhen saved the North from a war it was far from certain to win, married the most beautiful woman in the realm: Rhaenys Targaryen and brought dragons into the possession of house Stark. Rhaenys’ dragon Meraxes and four dragon eggs. In giving up his crown, Torrhen gave his descendants the ability to climb higher than any Stark before them, as Dragon Riders.”

—— “The Histories of House Stark”
By High Druid Klaven

 

“House Targaryen: Kings of the seven kingdoms, they sit on the Iron Throne, forged from the thousand blades of Aegon’s enemies. Pale, white-haired and purpled eyed Dragon-lords who rode their five dragons from Valyria before the doom.

House Velaryon: Also a Valyrian house, though not originally dragon-riders, earned their dragons from inter marrying with house Targaryen. Under house Targaryen, they have grown to have the largest fleet of ships in Westeros, they have enjoyed wealth and riches due to the many trade routes run by Velaryon ships. They carry the white hair of their homeland, yet also have dark skin due to descending from Summer Islanders too.

House Baratheon: Orys Baratheon, bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror rode a dragon of his own when he took Storm’s End from house Durrandon. The Baratheons earned more dragons by inter marrying with house Targaryen. The big, black-haired men of house Baratheon descend from the Storm kings of old, yet for near three centuries have they served house Targaryen loyally.

House Stark: When Aegon set his sights on Westeros, he realised it would serve neither of their interests for the Starks and Targaryens to fight. Their magic from the Children of the Forest and the runecraft of the Dwarves was near a match for the magic of Valyria. So, the North was won not by battle, but by bargain. Torrhen Stark married Aegon’s sister Rhaenys Targaryen, the most beautiful woman in all the seven kingdoms. For Rhaenys, her dragon and four dragon eggs Torrhen Stark knelt as a King and rose as a Prince. After a time, the magic of the north seeped into the dragons who lived there until eventually, they breathed freezing cold instead of fire. The Starks of the north are big, hairy men with long faces and grey eyes. Their line has gone unbroken since the days of Brandon the Builder, leading the North as the last bastion of First Men culture in Westeros. They have been happy to ignore and be ignored by the rest of Westeros. Though they were once Kings, they have ruled under the Targaryens as Princes and Wardens of the North.

House Abraxys/Tyrell: A dragon-rider house that was sworn to house Targaryen even before the Doom and followed them to safety on Dragonstone. Baelon Abraxys took the Reach in Aegon’s name during the conquest after having killed Mern Gardener. The Tyrells surrendered Highgarden to him, he rewarded them by taking their name, sigil and marrying into their family. Aegon gifted the Reach to Baelon as he thought stewardship of the second largest kingdom in Westeros was a fair prize for slaying the Gardener King. So house Abraxys became house Tyrell and ruled as Aegon’s Lords Paramount of the Reach and Wardens of the South.

House Lannister: A house that managed to buy two dragon eggs at considerable cost from houses Tyrell and Velaryon. However, mismanagement and lack of understanding from the Lannister lord who bought them got the dragons killed young. Upon hearing this, King Aegon V forbade house Lannister from owning dragons. As punishment for squandering such a precious gift. Though it seems Lord Tywin Lannister is determined to make his family dragon riders once again.”

—— “The Great Houses of Westeros: Chapter 1: Dragon Riders”
By Archmaester Gwynlan

“Now for a sword that has seen more history than many of the great houses of Westeros: Ice, the ancestral weapon of house Stark. Passed down from King, in more recent years Prince, to their heir. One of the most famous swords in Westeros, Ice is made from black Uru, the materials purest form, standing at 44 inches long with a blade 3 1/4 inches wide with glowing blue runes in the Old Tongue from the base  running along the bronze fullered blade, to the tapered point.

The official story of Ice is that it was forged by the greatest Dwarf forgemaster Belegane Gromril and King Cregan ‘The Mage’ Stark, early into his reign. Combining a newly forged Uru blade and the blade of an Other. This claim is disputed by some, who claim the Others never existed. Whether the claim is true or not, Ice is more than your usual enchanted blade. Seemingly on command from the wielder, the sword will cover itself in a layer of unbreakable ice that shatters any un-enchanted steel it comes into contact with. This ice layer increases the size of the sword to more than 60 inches long, with a width of 6 1/2 inches, turning it from a longsword to a greatsword. Ice can also be summoned to the wielder, flying from its position, through the air, to its owners hand.

Its many great deeds are listed as follows…..”

 

—— “The Great Swords of Westeros and their Wielders: Chapter 13: Ice”
By Ser Arthur Blackwood

 

“Through magical ceremony, it is possible to awaken the Others blood that flows through the veins of the Starks. I have dubbed it the Trial of Winter. It gives us great strength, powerful ice magic and the ability to turn the dead into our own wights(I would advise future Starks to keep the necromancy a secret). After much experimentation, I have also discovered a way to turn the Stark who undergoes the trial into a powerful wolf-man like creature. (Must carry out more experiments to see how far it can be pushed)”

—— Notes from “Magic and its Many Uses: Chapter 3: The Trial of Winter”
By King Cregan Stark

 

“Torrhen Stark - Rhaenys Targaryen

In the first month of the year 0 AC, King Torrhen Stark wed Rhaenys Targeryen and gave up his crown. According to historical accounts, Torrhen Stark, son of Queen Alysanne Stark and Morgar Mormont had the classic Stark look. That is, a large, hairy, unwashed barbarian. He is described as being a tall man and thick as a tree trunk, with a long face and dark grey eyes.

In contrast to her husband, Rhaenys Targaryen was a vision of Valyrian beauty. She had silver-gold hair that hung loosely down to her waist. The classic Targaryen purple eyes and a slender, yet reportedly shapely body. It is well known that Aegon’s younger sister was a kindhearted, graceful and playful woman. Word has it she spent more time flying on her dragon, Meraxes, than both of her siblings combined. Even taking Torrhen up into the sky on Meraxes for their wedding night. They had five children together and were succeeded by their oldest son, Brandon. Why the Seven-who-are-one would let such a beauty be wasted on a heathen northerner like Torrhen Stark, I will never know.

Jonnel ‘One-Eye’ Stark - Daena ‘The Defiant’ Targaryen

It was the tenth month of the year 161 AC when Jonnel Stark, later called ‘One-Eye’, wed Daena Targaryen and the realm lost another Targaryen princess to the Northern wastes. It was Prince Cregan Stark who demanded a Targaryen princess marry into house Stark. All to uphold some promise called ‘The pact of Ice and Fire’ whether such a pact existed or not is immaterial. Prince Stark got what he came for.

In all fairness, it was probably for the best that Daena go to the North. It was well documented that she was a wilful woman, who would constantly try to break out of the Maiden vault her former husband and King had rightfully sent her to. When she got to the North, it was reported that her husband took her to where house Stark kept their dragon eggs and offered her, her choice of them. When her dragon grew big enough, she would ride it every day. It is said that every morning, husband and wife could be seen flying together on their dragons above Winterfell. Together they raised their thirteen children, against the wishes of the great King Baelor ‘The Blessed’, never allowing them to discover the faith of the Seven-who-are-one.

Wulfric Stark - Shiera ‘Seastar’ Targaryen

In the last days of the year 184 AC Prince Wulfric Stark married the legitimised bastard of house Targaryen, Shiera Seastar. The North was the best place for her: far away from decent folk. It is said that Shiera was a witch who bathed in the blood of virgins to retain her beauty. Though what a beauty she was. She had long Targaryen hair of silver and gold with a beautiful heart-shaped face, with two mismatched eyes—one dark blue, the other bright green. She had a slim figure, yet still very curvy as described in the hundreds of love poems her many suitors wrote to her at court. It would seem the pair was well matched as Wulfric was known for being particularly familiar with magic. Another gaunt, hairy Northerner, who had no more business calling himself a Prince, than I would a calling myself a horse. The less said about either of them, the better.

Addendum

Alas, with the sad loss of house Targaryen, that would appear to be the permeant end of this chapter.“

—— “Marriages Between the Great Houses of Westeros From 0AC-300AC: Chapter 7: Unions of the Wolf and the Dragon”
By Septon Osmund

 

“It can be said the story of Eddard Stark began at the Tourney of Harrenhal. That would be the place and the time that set him onto the course of becoming one of the greatest Kings house Stark has ever known.”

 

—— “Stark Means King: Chapter 60: Eddard The Great”
By Druid Skellig

Chapter 2: Maps of When Winter Comes

The North:

Westeros:

 

Westeros divided by kingdoms:

Winterfell: 

The Winter City:

Moat Cailin:

 

Notes:

I made some maps for the fic, hope you like them.

Edit - Issue should be fixed now

Chapter 3: Family Trees

Stark Dragons Family Tree:

Stark Dragons ordered by size with other dragons for scale (by 300 AC):

1 Arrax - Age 13 - Rider: Lucerys Velaryon
2 Moondancer - Age 13 - Rider: Baela Targaryen
3 Vermax - Age 16 - Rider: Jacaerys Velaryon
4 Sunbeam - Age 24 - Rider: Sansa Stark
5 Salvation - Age 21 - Rider: Rhaenys Targaryen daughter of Elia Martell
6 Sunfyre 'Sunfyre the Golden' - Age 29 - Rider: Aegon II Targaryen
7 Seasmoke - Age 29 - Riders: Laenor Velaryon, Addam of Hull
8 Palewing - Age 32 - Rider: Osric Stark son of Benjen Stark
9 Frostmourn - Age 39 - Rider: Alfred Stark son of Benjen Stark
10 Syrax - Age 29 - Rider: Rhaenyra Targaryen
11 Wanderer - Age 64 - Rider: Arra Brightway daughter of Eddard Stark
12 Squid's Bane - Age 90 - Riders: Alysanne Stark, Cara Snow
13 Meleys 'The Red Queen' - Age 94 - Riders: Alyssa Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen 'The Queen Who Never Was'
14 Caraxes 'The Blood Wyrm' - Age 95 - Riders: Aemon Targaryen son of Jaehaerys Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen 'The Rogue Prince'
15 Icewing 'The Frozen Death' - Age 104 - Rider: Aly Snow 'Lady of the Underground'
16 Dreamfyre - Age 98 - Riders: Rhaena Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen
17 Starburst - Age 114 - Rider: Alysanne Stark daughter of Eddard Stark
18 Vermithor 'The Bronze Fury' - Age 100 - Riders: Jaehaerys I Targaryen, Hugh Hammer
19 Winderfrost 'Winter's Herald' - Age 124 - Rider: Benjen Stark
20 Saeraxys 'Lady of the Sunrise' - Age 135 - Riders: Daena Targaryen 'The Defiant', Lyanna Stark
21 Gnasher 'Winter's Wrath' - Age 127 - Riders: Brandon Stark, Robb Stark
22 Blackadder 'The Winged Serpent' - Age 150 - Riders: Sarra Stark daughter of Alysanne Blackwood, Beric Stark
23 Moonhowler 'The Loud' - Age 167 - Riders: Rickard Stark, Jon Stark
24 Silverwing - Age 184 - Riders: Alysanne Targaryen, Ulf the White
25 Vhagar 'The Queen of All Dragons' - Age 182 - Riders: Visenya Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon, Aemond Targaryen
26 Behemoth 'The Endless Night' - Age 164 - Riders: Balgruff Stark son of Daena Targaryen, Dagmer Snow
27 Meraxes 'The Queen in the North' - Age 210 - Riders: Rhaenys Targaryen wife of Torrhen, Rhaenys Stark daughter of Viserra Targaryen, Sara Snow daughter of Rickon Stark
28 Thrakka 'The Winged Mountain' - Age 185 - Riders: Alaric Stark 'The Implacable', Birna Stark daughter of Ellara Stark, Wulfric Stark son of Jonnel
29 Balerion 'The Black Dread' - Age 208 - Riders: Aegon I Targaryen, Maegor I Targaryen, Aerea Targaryen, Viserys I Targaryen
30 Snowfall - Age 184 - Riders: Lyarra Stark, Cleaton Snow
31 Snowsong 'The Snow Queen of House Stark' - Age 186 - Riders: Cregan Stark, Shiera Seastar, Rodrick Stark 'The Wanderer', Eddard Stark
32 Paarthurnax 'Voice of the North' - Age 220 - Rider: Errold Stark
33 Kalameet 'The Titan' - Age 231 - Riders: Jonnel Stark 'One Eye', Edwyle Stark father of Rickard

Stark Family Tree:

Chapter 4: Chapter 2

It was a cool, crisp early morning in Ned’s tent on the Harrenhal grounds. Ned was still sore from the previous nights exertions, all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and forget about the world. But thoughts of sleep were banished from his mind when he heard soft moans and the sound of sucking.

Gods, that woman is ravenous, Ned thought, as he lazily opened his eyes and looked down to see the blankets that covered his body, bobbing up and down slowly.

Ned cracked a smile and threw off his blanket onto the floor. He heard her squeal into his cock at the sudden drop in temperature, yet it did not deter her. The cold was bracing, but Ned would happily walk beyond the Wall naked, if it meant he could see more of what was before him. Straddling his legs, was the naked body of the most beautiful woman in all the seven kingdoms: Ashara Dayne. Ned could only marvel at the Dornish beauty as she pleasured him, her half-lidded, violet eyes looking up at him as her head bobbed up and down his shaft. Occasionally, taking it out of her mouth to place light kisses along his length.

Ned’s eyes roamed the body of his lover, taking in her beauty, as if she might disappear if he looked away. Her exceedingly large breasts, capped with dark nipples that threatened to burst out of every dress she wore, her thin waist that flared out into wide hips giving her a large, heart-shaped arse. Her olive skin was tanned and flawless, but for the small beauty mark below the left corner of her mouth. Her luscious dark hair, that he gathered in his hands to keep out of her face. But her most divine aspect was her eyes: A man would happily drown in their haunting, violet beauty.

Questioning the gods judgement that such a beautiful woman would ever give him the time of day. Ned thought back to when they first met. It was the second feast of the tournament, Brandon had done well and all four of the siblings were celebrating. Benjen had just asked him why he didn’t enter along with Brandon and he was about to explain that entering the tournament would likely lead to him and Brandon facing each other. Which would have only lead to two outcomes, both of them bad. He could fight his older brother and lose, or even worse, fight his older brother and win.

But then, he saw her walking into the hall, he was enchanted. Him and a hundred other men at the feast. Lady Minisa had told him that he should try to woo Lady Dayne, but it was one thing to say, another thing to do. Brandon had apparently gotten sick of watching his younger brother faun over Ashara, so he walked right up to her and introduced Ned to Dornish lady. Brandon had given him a wink and left the pair to dance together for the evening. As it turned out, they gotten along very well. Even after he had danced terribly and tripped over all his words. The problem wasn’t that he was inexperienced with women, Robert had made sure he get experience in the Vale and even in the North there had been Sylvie and others. But when faced with the beauty of Ashara Dayne even the most confident man would falter.

They had left the feast early and gone for a walk in Harrenhal’s godswood. Ned still had no idea how they had gone from talking, to frantically making love against the Weirwood tree. The morning after, they had woken up, naked and curled up together underneath the tree. After that, they had spent most nights in the same bed, either hers or his. Last night, they had fallen into bed together in his tent and that was where they had awoken.

A quiet gagging noise brought him out of his thoughts. Ashara seemed determined to take every last inch of his cock into her throat, she seemed to be having trouble with the last few inches, so Ned decided to give her a helping hand. Using his hands in her hair, he started gently thrusting into her mouth, pushing her her head down to meet him. There was a bit of resistance at first, but then she let go completely, surrendering full control to Ned. His balls were slapping her chin as he began to thrust faster and faster into her mouth, sensing his end was drawing near. Her face was starting to go red with the lack of air, her beautiful violet eyes were rolling back into her skull as her drool flowed from his cock onto the bed.

Eventually, Ned gave one great thrust, as if attempting to deposit his seed directly into her stomach, Ashara’s lips around the base of his cock. He let out a deep groan as she could feel his cock pulsing in her throat, once, twice, five times. “Fuck…” Ned groaned, feeling her tongue swirl around the tip of his cock, drawing out the last spurts of his seed.
 
“Mhmmm…” she hummed, her cheeks bulged with his load. After a time, Ned drew his softening length from her mouth. “Mnnhga!” tilting her head back as her lips sealed shut and swallowed his seed. She let out a gasp, mouth hanging open and beautiful eyes wide, her body trembled happily as she fell to the side. Resting her head on his thigh, she gave his cock a few cleaning licks and kisses. Before finally coming up his body, to rest her head on his chest, cuddling together, sharing warmth between their sweaty bodies.

“Gods, woman. You’re insatiable.” Ned said as Ashara circled her fingers through his chest hair.

She raised her head from him, their eyes met, she smiled at him. “It’s all your fault, my dear Ned.” She said as her fingers curled around his length again. “I just can’t stay away from your massive cock.”

“Alas, it is a heavy burden to bare.” Ned chuckled as Ashara kissed along his jaw. “I feel, perhaps throwing the blanket off was a poor idea.” Only now, remembering that it was quite cold.

“Again, your fault, Ned.”

“Oh, really? With so many faults it’s a wonder why you put up with me.”

“You do have some outstanding qualities though.” Ashara said as she looked Ned in the eyes. It was an easy back-and-forth they had. “Though, if you are cold…” she continued, “I do have an idea about how we could warm up.”

His cock got harder again, his eyes roamed his lovers body. “I believe I am familiar with such techniques, My Lady.” Ned said, suddenly flipping them over so Ashara was beneath him. She let out a small squeal of surprise, followed by giggles that shook her large breasts as they lay splayed out on her chest. Now it was Ned’s turn to lay kisses on his lover.

“I think we should stay here all day and not leave the tent.” He said, just before latching his mouth to her dark nipple, sucking it gently, feeling it harden. Ashara let out a high moan and placed a hand on his head, to hold it at her breasts.

“I don’t think that will be possible, Ned.” She said as she bit her lip, “Elia will want to watch her husband joust. They’ll get to the final rounds today and he could be the winner.”

“You think Rhaegar will win?” Ned asked, leaving her nipple only for a second.

“He has as good a chance as any,” She responded, “but enough words of my friend’s husband. Do you plan to bed me, my Prince?”

Ned took is hard cock in hand and teased her entrance with its tip. “I don’t know,” he said, playing with her. “Do you deserve it?” Giving her a wolfish grin.

She squirmed, trying to get his cock inside her. “I do, i’ve been good.” She said with a look of false innocence on her face. It was a game they liked to play.

“I don’t know…” Ned said, trying his best to sound stern. “I hear you’ve been bedding some northern prince. A good southern girl like you? Shameful…” As he talked, his hands were stroking all over her body, drawing moans and cries from her mouth. Moving over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, over her flat stomach, her hips, only sometimes brushing against her clit. All to get her worked up even more, soon the wave would break upon the shoreline and Ashara be driven mad with lust.

“It’s not my fault!” Ashara cried out, her act of false innocence almost breaking, due to Neds ministrations. “I’m innocent in all this. He seduced me! With his beautiful grey eyes, his strong arms and hairy chest,” Ned could tell she was approaching her peak thanks to all of his teasing. “And with his MASSIVE NORTHERN COOOOCK!” At last, Ned thrust inside her completely, right up to the hilt.

He was embraced by Ashara’s wet and warm tightness, convulsing around him as she climaxed. It was a glorious sight: Every part of her was shaking and quivering, her eyelids fluttered has her eyes rolled back in pleasure. Evidence of her release leaking around his cock, out onto the bed. Robert had once told him there was nothing greater in this world, than making a beautiful woman finish on your cock. Ned had never agreed with his friend more.

They were both still. Ned staying, fully sheathed inside her. “Uggh, fuck…” Ashara whimpered, covering her face and running her hands through her dark locks. Her tanned skin was flushed, turning it even more golden. Though Ned’s eyes were drawn to her large breasts, that tantalisingly rose and fell with her pants. Ned leaned down, to give his lover a searing kiss as she recovered.

She looked up into his eyes with wonder, she would do anything for him in that moment.

Then Ned slowly pulled out. Ashara sighed at the loss, then he thrust back in. Slowly, then starting to build up speed. He soon found their familiar rhythm. His hands were on either side of her, holding him up as he thrust into her cunt. She would coo and moan and stroke him with her hands, her eyes closing in pleasure every time he thrust all the way inside her.

Ned’s eyes remained on her large, bouncing tits, that moved in time with his thrusts. “You really like them don’t you?” Ashara asked as she looked up at him, licking her lips. She cupped her tear-drop shaped tits, offering them up to him. “Most men do,” she continued, “but you’re the one that gets to enjoy them.” She started pinching her dark nipples. Her face contorted in pleasure. “Do you know, in Qarth, they wear dresses that show one breast. Do you think I should wear dresses like that?” She was trying to rile him up, Ned grunted in response as he thrust inside her harder. “Yes! Fuck me Ned! Breed me! Batter me with your big northern cock!” Ashara screamed, as Ned kept up his pace, thrusting inside her.

After enough time spent thrusting into Ashara, Ned pulled out and flipped her onto her hands and knees.

“Ahh…” Ashara gasped, she could feel his long meat resting on her arse. She slowly shook her ample hips from side to side, enticing him to take her. Ned accommodated, sliding his cock down, pushing against her cunt.

The massive northern cock rammed directly into her Dornish body.
 
“Fuck, Ned!!” she shrieked in delight, her eyes rolling as she lost what little strength she had left, falling face first into Ned’s pillow. Ned grabbed her slender waist and slammed all the way into her ample arse, “GODDSSSS!!!” she shrieked, again. Ned was sure anyone outside of the tent then walls could her them.

“If you don’t keep it down, the whole castle will hear you.” He grunted into her ear. 

“Let them!” Ashara wailed, “Let them-uh-fuck! Let them know Ned! Fucking! Stark! is fucking me with all his massive cock! I want the women the be jealous of me and the men to envy you!”

Surely any in the vicinity could hear them. Ashara was amazed that Ned never seemed to tire, lifting the beautiful Dornish noble woman up to his thrusts, as she screamed through one orgasm after another. “FUCK! AH!! GODSS!! SHIT! GODSS!! FUCKING BIG!! FUCK!!” Ned felt her cunt tightened around him as another climax rippled through her body.
 
The tanned beauty was writhing and quivering, as Ned thrust into her, drawing out her full-body climax as long as possible. “Hha! Hhhha! AAhh!! FUCK!!!” Her hands fisted the mattress as she buried her face into the pillow. She heard a loud Slap! Feeling a sting on her arse, it seemed they had gotten to the point where Ned would turn her arse red…. Again. After several smacks, making sure her arse shinned, Ned began to thrust his cock into her quivering cunt once again.
 
Ned pulled her head up, so she could look into the mirror over the head of the bed. She could see a look in his eye that made her feel faint: the look of a wolf about to have his prey. He place a large hand around her throat and squeezed it lightly. Just enough to restrict her air supply a little. His other hand went to her hanging breasts, massaging them and pinching her dark nipples. Her mouth hung open and she began to drool at the over stimulation. “You are mine…” he declared, in a voice that sent shivers straight to her cunt.

She loved this.
 
“MMMGh!!” Ashara moaned as Ned ploughed her body as if it was his right, which it was.

“UUUUGH!! HMMM!!!” Ned stuck a finger in her mouth and squeezed her throat harder, her vision went blurry as his other hand went to stimulate her clit, bringing her another, earth-shattering release. She tightened around Ned’s big northern cock as he slammed his hips against her quivering arse and stayed there, “‘UCK!! S‘IT!! ‘HUMMMMMNIINNNGGGGG!!” she moaned around his finger, feeling him seeding her womb for what must have been the hundredth time and fell unconscious.
 
Ned slapped his hand on her reddened arse a few times as she catatonically shuddered around his softening length. He pulled out of her with a slop and fell beside his unconscious lover. His thick seed, gushing out of her well-used cunt.

 

—————————

 

After a few hours, the lovers awoke to the sticky mess they had left behind. They knew they would be expected at breakfast soon, so they began to wash and dress. Seeing Ashara casually stand naked in his tent and wash herself with a wet rag and some soap was a surprisingly erotic sight, Ned discovered. Her small-clothes had been destroyed last night by Ned’s eagerness, so she had opted to wear nothing beneath her dress.

“Would you help with the laces?” Ashara asked, turning her back to Ned, pulling her hair over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck and the upper portion of her back to him.

“I’ll try, though my skill lies more in getting you out of clothes, my Lady.” He flirted as he pulled her dress up and started tightening her laces.

“Oh, I am well aware of your talents, my Prince.” She laughed. “Particularly in relation to getting undressed.”

Ned went to tighten the laces a little more, she made a squeaking sound.

“Too tight?”

“Oh no, of course not. You want my breasts to pop out of my bodice with every breath I take, yes?”

“I am sure it would be a sight to see… but I doubt you would enjoy it so much.” He said, while loosening the dress again. He began to place kisses along the back of her neck.

“That doesn’t feel like doing laces, Ned…” Ashara gasped, leaning back into him.

“I can’t help it.” Ned responded, turning her around drawing her up into a deep kiss.

“I suppose they can wait for us a little longer.” Ashara said, as she reached down to his breaches, rubbing his rapidly hardening cock.

“Hey Ned! Where the fuck are yo-FUCK-SHIT-SOrry!” Came from the entrance to the tent as the pair jumped a meter apart.

“Lya! Wait.” Called Ned as he went out after her. His little sister was standing off to the side of his tent, looking uncomfortable and chewing her bottom lip, like she often did when she was embarrassed.

“Bran sent me to-I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s ok Lya, no harm done.” Ned interrupted her. “Though maybe next time, don’t barge into my tent.”

“Never again.” She agreed.

There was an awkward pause.

“So…you and Lady Dayne?” She ventured, “How long have you two been…?”

“Since we danced together. And her name is Ashara, I can introduce you to her if you like.”

“I believe we’ve already been introduced.” Ashara cut in as she walked out of his tent, her dress in need of lacing properly. “Hello, Lyanna. Would you like to join Ned and I as we break our fast?” Lyanna nodded and they walked to the main hall.

Ashara and Lyanna got along well enough. When they got to the dinning hall and met with Bran, Benjen and Howland Reed, they all settled to eat their food. They barely had a chance to sit before Lyanna blurted out that Ned and Ashara were sleeping together. Brandon had clapped him on the back, telling him that he had never been prouder of him. In spite of that, Ashara made a good effort to get to know his friend and family.

“So all you Starks have dragons?” Ashara asked, as she played with a bit of bacon on her plate.

“Yeah!” Benjen answered her excitedly. “But father says i’m not old enough to ride Windrfröst yet.”

“Windrfröst is your dragon?” Ashara asked, before popping half a small tomato into her mouth.

“Yes, Windrfröst is his.” Brandon answered for him. ”Saeraxys is Lyanna’s, Snowsong is Ned’s and mine is Gnasher.” He said proudly.

One of those names is not like the others, Ashara thought. “I recognise the name Snowsong from somewhere.” She turned to Ned, sitting next to her on the bench.

“Aye, Snowsong is mine.” Ned said, as he tore up his last piece of bacon. “She is the dragon Cregan Stark rode into Kings Landing on for the Hour of the Wolf. I tamed her when I was young, when I visited home from the Vale.” Then he paused. “Before I met you, I would have said she was the most beautiful creature in the world. Now…that is different.”

Ashara and Ned locked eyes, she had half a mind to take in somewhere and ride him until they both collapsed. They were interrupted by Lyanna making fake vomiting noises. “Please Ned! If you love us, never talk like that in front of us again.” She begged.

Quickly changing the subject. “Why aren’t your dragons here now?” Both the crown Prince and the King had caused quite the stir when they had arrived at Harrenhal on their dragons. Living in the Red Keep, she saw them often, but for the majority of Westeros, dragons were rare sight indeed. “When it comes to that, where are your direwolves?” Ashara inquired. “I heard you Starks have direwolves as big as bears up north.”

“Bigger.” Benjen said, with a mouth full of bread.

“We don’t take them south because Baelor the Bastard made it against the law.” Lyanna said in a harsh tone. “He was worried we might try to spread our ‘pagan’ religion, so he decreed that no Direwolves, Children of the Forest, Giants, or our Dragons can come south. He made it law after Daena married into our family.”

This news upset Ashara, her house was proud of its First Men tradition, it seemed monstrously unfair. “How could he do that? Surely you could have asked the kings after him to repeal the law.”

“Eh, we never came south that much anyway.” Ned interjected. “Besides, I very much doubt our current King would repeal it.”

The group talked more, Ashara learned the names of all their direwolves. They told her of Winterfell and the Winter city that surrounded it. “It seems I must visit Winterfell one day…” Ashara said as she eyed Ned with a knowing smile. Their talking did not last, however. She was called upon by Elia and she bid the Starks farewell, giving Ned a kiss as she left them.

The day went along like any other, until they got the the champions tilt.

It was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen against a knight of the kingsguard: Ser Barristan Selmy. As Rhaegar had unhorsed Brandon, the Starks were firmly on Ser Barristans side. Four times, they rode against each other, breaking their lances every time. On the fifth, Rhaegar unhorsed Ser Barristan and sent him tumbling from his horse. They crowd erupted in cheers of jubilation.

As champion, Rhaegar could choose his Queen-of-love-and-beauty. Ned, along with everyone else, assumed that the Prince would pick his wife. All the smiles died when he passed his wife by, unacknowledged. Ned looked over to see Ashara visibly furious and Princess Elia trying to stifle her feeling of humiliation.

However the worst was yet to come, as Rhaegar spurned his wife, he stopped in front of Lyanna and place the garland of winter roses on her lap.

Lyanna was shocked.

Benjen, while being a bit too young to fully understand what was happening, knew something was wrong.

Brandon and Robert looked so furious Ned was afraid they would launch themselves from the stands and beat the crown prince to death with their bare hands, right in front of everyone.

Ned locked eyes with Rhaegar and saw something he didn’t like…

Something sinister….

Notes:

And that’s the first chapter of actual story. Let me know what you think down below and don’t hesitate to put suggestions in, if you have any.

Chapter 5: Chapter 3

Ashara was furious with Rhaegar.

 

She was pacing back and forth across the room, while Elia was sitting on her bed.

 

“That fucking bastard!” Ashara seethed.

 

Upon winning the jousting tournament, Elia’s bastard husband had spurned his wife and crowned a girl of five and ten as his queen of love and beauty. Afterwards, the pair had locked themselves in Elia’s room. Ashara wanted to punish Rhaegar, Elia just wanted it all to be over.

 

“How could he just humiliate you like that!” Ashara said, stopping pacing, she turned to look straight at Elia who was still sitting on her bed. Ashara went to kneel in front of her friend, she clasped her hands around Elia’s, looking up at her. “Please say something Elia.”

 

“What can I say, Ash? The maesters say it is unlikely that I will have more children. It seems he is looking for another to bear them for him.” Elia said, looking off into space.

 

“You’ve already given him a beautiful daughter.” Ashara interjected.

 

“He wants a son. He’s gotten it into his head that he must have three children ‘Three heads of the dragon’ he says. He’s obsessed!” Elia seemed to be getting angrier, showing more Dornish fire. “You know? That fucker hasn’t ever made me finish. All he ever does is fuck me on my back, a few dozen thrusts, then done.” Elia barked out a laugh. “He’s never cared about me or my pleasure, not once.”

 

Ashara leaned forward, taking Elia’s lips with her own. The princess melted into her kiss, running her hands through her friends hair. “I’ve always taken care of that for you.” Ashara said, after they split apart. They lay down on the bed together, in each-others arms.

 

“Maybe she’s already his mistress and this was his way of telling everyone.”

 

“I find that highly unlikely.” Ashara said, looking to defend Lyanna. From what Ned had told her, the girl would never do anything like that. “I know her, it’s not in her character.”

 

Elia cracked a small smile, “Ah yes. I remember, you and the Starks have gotten quite cozy with each other, of late.”

 

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

 

“Ah, but you’re no lady. You’re a whore. At least that’s what you were shouting when I went to your room a few nights ago.”

 

“You heard that!?!” Ashara said, mortified. She had always enjoyed being a loud lover, but actually being heard was a slightly different matter. After a small pause she had a thought, “You could always do what I did: Find a lover.” Ashara suggested.

 

“I don’t think so.” Elia said, in a resided tone. Ashara rolled onto her front, looking down at Elia. “Besides, I already have you.”

 

“I mean, you should find a cock to ride. You’re a beautiful woman, many men at the tourney would happily bed you. You could do all the things you don’t do with Rhaegar.”

 

Elia sat up on the bed, holding herself up by her arms, intrigued by the thought of being able to experiment with a man. “Say I agreed to your dangerous and ridiculous proposal… Do you have anyone in mind?”

 

Ashara smiled. She absolutely did have someone in mind.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It was dark in the godswood. Ned made sure the torch he brought was properly covered from the rain he knew would probably come soon. A little before the hour of the wolf, he had received a message from Ashara, telling him to meet her in the godswood. Ned could guess what that meant: She wanted him to fuck her against the Weirwood again.

 

She always seems to enjoy that.

 

A small gust brought a chill through the godswood. Ned shivered and wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. I wish Fang was here, he thought. His dark grey Direwolf would be good to have at this time. Fang was one of the warmest creatures he had ever felt. The Direwolf stood taller than a horse at the shoulder and was built like a bear. With thick fur to keep the cold winds out. I could use him to see anyone coming, he mused. With warging, Ned would be able to see through Fangs eyes, smell with his nose and hear with his ears. There was nothing quite like feeling the night come alive when he warged into Fang.

 

Ned heard a twig break behind him, turned around and saw Ashara. To Ned’s surprise, he saw Princess Elia Martell too.

 

“Your grace.” He said, quickly bowing. Why is she here too? Lyanna maybe? Maybe I should apologise to her. “Your grace, i’m terribly sorry what what happened earlier.” He began, “I promise you, Lyanna was just as surprised as everyone else-“

 

“I am not angry with you, house Stark or your sister. My husband is the object of my ire.” Elia interrupted him. “In fact. I would like you to give my apologies to Lyanna, but that is not why we wanted you to come here.”

 

Ned looked from Elia to Ashara, confused. “I’m sorry, your grace. But if that isn’t the reason you called me, then what is?”

 

What happened next sent his eyebrows so far up his face it’s a wonder they didn’t shoot off his head. Princess Elia Martell, wife of the crown prince and mother of his child, stripped off her dress in one smooth motion. Leaving her entirely naked as her dress fell to the ground, standing right in front of Ned and Ashara.

 

“I want you to fuck me.”

 

Ned didn’t know where to look. His eyes went from Elia, to Ashara, then back to Elia, then the Weirwood, then the ground. “My dear Ned,” Ashara said, walking over to him, placing a comforting hand on his chest. “Elia has a bastard for a husband. I thought you and I could help her.”

 

“Ashara has told me all of the amazing things you two have done together.” Elia said, joining Ashara next to him.

 

“You are married… If Rhaegar were to find out.” Ned began to step back.

 

“I assure you the consequences would be worse for me and my children if he found out.” Elia snapped. “But i’m not going to tell him, are you going to? Besides Ashara told me you would never abandon a woman in need… and I am in need Prince Stark” She looked up at him with her big eyes, she placed her hands on his arm, drawing him closer to her. Ned could feel his resolve draining from him.

 

“Is this truly what you want?” Ned asked, to both of them.

 

“It was my idea Ned.” Ashara laughed. “It’s a crime that more women don’t know about your cock.” Ned had to admit, Ashara knew how to stroke his ego.

 

“I want this.” Elia said in about as earnest a tone as a person can have. “Rhaegar has never made me climax in my life. Ashara has always been the one to satisfy my urges.”

 

“And i’m happy to do it.” Ashara smiled.

 

Ned had to do a double take, the thought of Ashara and Elia making love was almost too much for him. “Don’t worry, lovely Ned. You will see all that and more tonight.” Ashara said as she kissed him, their tongues dancing together for a time. Ashara suddenly drew away from him, then pressed Elia’s face to his. Their lips met, as Ashara had her hands in their hair. Ned noted Elia kissed differently to Ashara. Ashara knew what she wanted, she had much more fire behind her. Whereas Elia was more reserved, perhaps as a result of her nerves. Ned tried to calm her with loving caresses, she became much more willing to demand as she kissed. They stayed like that for quite a while. As Elia throughly explored this new man.

 

Eventually they drew apart and Elia took a few steps back. “Just look at her body Ned.” Ashara said as she divested herself of her own gown. Ned could not deny, Elia Martell was a beautiful woman. Her skin was darker than Ashara’s more olive tone, the light from the torch gave her a warm glow. She had dark brown eyes that were filled with lust when they looked at him. She had black, voluminous hair that had a number of braids going through it, the main bulk of it stretched to her lower back.

 

Ned’s gaze finally fell to to her breasts. They were large and hung high on her chest, with dark brown nipples, hardened to points in the cool night air. “Ah, I see you like these.” Elia laughed, cupping her breasts. “I used to be much smaller up here, but motherhood has done wonders for them. I used to be so jealous of Ashara for having these giant tits. But now that I have them, my back hurts more.”

 

“I feel your pain.” Ashara said, cupping her own breasts with one hand as she idly rubbed her clit with the other. “But men and women do love them, and they are fun to play with.”

 

“Ned certainly seems to like them.”

 

Ned could only watch as the two beautiful women compared their breasts in front of him. “I’m sorry for staring.” He managed to stammer out.

 

“Nonsense.” Elia answered. “Though, I do think it’s unfair that Ash and I are naked, yet you are not. Come on Stark, I’ve heard great things. Let us marvel at you, for a change.” Ashara and Elia walked up to Ned and began to take away his clothes. First his doublet, then his under shirt, pulling them both over his head. “He’s certainly well put together.” Elia said as she ran her hand through his chest hair, over his defined muscles. Ned didn’t think he would be able to form words as the two beautiful women undressed him, so he just nodded.

 

“Oh-ho-ho, the best is yet to come.” Ashara laughed as they got off his boots, leaving only his breeches left. They took them down slowly, suddenly his cock was free, narrowly avoiding hitting Elia in the face.

 

“Oh, my gods!” Elia gasped in disbelief. She turned to Ashara, “How are you still walking!” She asked, voice raised in shock.

 

“Magnificent, isn’t it.” Ashara said, beaming as she held Ned’s cock at it’s base. Ned had to admit, there was always a part of him that enjoyed how women reacted when they saw his cock for the first time.

 

“That’s not a cock. That’s a fucking third leg… There’s no way that’s going to be able to fit!” Elia said, entranced by the fleshy appendage.

 

“Ash said the same thing, your grace.” Ned said with a hint of smugness. “Though of course, I will need to prepare you, Princess.” She squeaked as he lifted her up, he moved over to the roots of the Weirwood and laid her down gently on its roots.

 

“I think you can call me Elia from now on, Ned.” Elia said, with a quiver of nervousness affecting her voice as her eyes were still fixed on Ned’s cock.

 

“The beginning is just for you and Elia.” Ashara said to Ned as she gave the couple some space and got into a comfortable position. “I’ll watch.”

 

“Then I shall endeavour to give you an entertaining show.” Ned responded. As he leaned down to Elia’s cunt. Ned took hold of her smooth, dark skinned thighs nudging them wider, hooking one of her legs up on a white Weirwood root, before moving his head down to taste her cunt. Elia let out groan in pleasure, one hand gripping one of her breasts, the other gripping the tree above her. She quivered and trembled as Ned lapped up her juices.
 
“Oh, Ned…Rhaegar never did this for me.” Elia moaned softly, regarding Ned through heavy eyelids.

 

“Then he is a fool.” Ned answered, before going back to feast on Elia’s cunt.
 
Elia wasn’t the only one who was enjoying herself. From the moaning and whimpering, Ned guessed that Ashara was pleasuring herself as she watched them, he looked over and saw he was correct. Ashara had three fingers in her cunt as she pinched one of her nipples, watching her two lovers. Ned decided to make Elia finish before Ashara. So her went back to work, even more ravenous than before, licking Elia’s cunt lips and rubbing at her clit with his fingers, drawing even more moans from her lips.

 

Ned decided he would stay on the outside of her for now, then slowly work his way inside. Every now and then, his tongue would probe into her cunt, drawing more whimpers from Elia at the insertion. Ned remained firm, even as one of her hands snaked it’s way into his hair, pulling him even harder onto her. He would lick up and down her cunt, leave small kisses on the inside of her thighs, then insert his tongue, a little deeper each time. All the while rubbing her engorged clit, making Elia squeal. Ned could tell, he was drawing her, ever closer to her finish.

 

“He’s good isn’t he?” Ashara asked as she slapped her clit, while watching them. Elia could only moan and whimper, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
 
Ned was using a tried and true method, one that had worked to great effect on Ashara and other women he had used it on. Elia’s and Ashara’s cries rose to an ever increasing crescendo, Elia curled one of her legs around the back of Ned’s head, holding him there as she bucked on his mouth, chasing her end.
 
I think you’re just about ready for it now, don’t you? Ned thought, as he inserted one of his thick fingers into her cunt. That brought out an even greater cry from Elia, whimpering into the night sky at the digits invasion. Already, one of Ned’s fingers brought her more joy, then all the years she had spent in Rhaegar’s bed. The squelching sound that came from both women’s wet cunts, illustrated their arousal.
 
Elia looked over too Ashara with bleary eyes, all three were bathed in the flickering light of Ned’s torch. Yet even in the dim light, Elia could still see that her friend and lover was the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms. She was laid back, fully splayed out and running her hands all over herself, drawing pleasure from where it could be found. Elia eye’s moved from one of her lovers, to the other. Ned was hard at work on her cunt, his finger deep inside her as he sucked on her cunt. She could feel herself contracting and massaging Ned’s finger, she could feel it’s every move inside of her. Then Ned did something unexpected, causing Elia writhe and moan louder than she had at any other point that night.
 
“Is he doing the thing?” Ashara asked, with a knowing smile. Elia could barely hear her as her blood was rushing through her ears.

 

Ned had not only inserted a second large finger into her cunt, more than doubling the size of his invasion. He also began to move them in a certain way. He would slide them partially out, then go back in. Then, when deep inside her, he would curl his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Elia could see stars, she began thrusting even more, searching for something, anything that would release all of the tension built up within her.
 
Elia couldn’t speak, she could barely even think. All she knew, was that Ned was bringing her to a climax so powerful, the shockwaves might finish off Harrenhal completely. Knocking down the ruins that were left and reducing them to rubble.
 
Ned smiled against her cunt, knowing that her end was nigh. His neatly trimmed beard has now completely soaked in Elia’s juices, he began licking with even more fervour, curling his fingers even more quickly.

 

Elia went tense, then she began to thrash around. Ned leaned harder into her, pushing more, trying to make this feeling last as long as possible for her. Her damn was broken and her river released, a river that flowed violently from her cunt, soaking his face and upper body in her juices. Ned however, kept on pushing, drawing even more pleasure from her. Ashara join her friend in finding her finish. Their bodies thrashed and quivered, their voices rose into the air, carrying their pleasure up and out for anyone near by to hear. Lucky they chose the godswood, Ned thought. If we were anywhere else, people would have heard them.

 

Ned pulled away from Elia’s cunt and sat back, as the quivering women came down from the high of their shared climax. Elia’s eyes were fixed on Ned’s massive cock, standing to full attention at the antics of the women.

 

“N-now, “ Elia panted, her large breasts rising and falling quickly as she struggled to get more air into her lungs. “Now…I think it-ugh…it’s time that yooouu put that…cock *pant*…to good use.”

 

Ned gave her a wolfish grin, then put his cock down on top of Elia’s pelvis, it reached from her cunt, all the way to her belly button. Elia could only watch with amazement, marvelling at the massive, veiny appendage.

 

“Gods…you must be more than three times Rhaegar’s size, at least.” Elia let out a gasp. Ned couldn’t help the pride that welled up within him. He wouldn’t admit it, but he always enjoyed when a woman told him how much bigger he was than other men they had been with.

 

Ned used his thick, veiny girth to prod the lips of her tight entrance.

 

“Uughmmm… Ned…Please…” Elia whined as she shivered and moaned. She gripped the tree behind her head as Ned slowly pushed further into her, spreading her folds apart, further than anyone else ever had. Her walls had to be given time to adjust to this new intruder.
 
“Hmmmmm” Ned moved her slightly up the tree trunk, to get a better position for thrusting inside the Princess. Wrapping his arms around her, her lifted her up so that she was held up by his cock and her back against the tree. Elia felt the fullest she had ever felt, she looked down to Ned’s cock, her eyes widened in shock, seeing that he was only half way inside her. “Please, no more…” She let out, “I’ll burst if you put it all the way in.” Ned nodded in acknowledgment, he began to pump his hips, building a rhythm, but only going half way inside her.

 

“Hmmm! huhghh! SO-AAH!!… SO!! MUCH! BETTER!!! THAN!! RHAEGAR!!!! FUCK!!!” Elia squealed into the night sky, as she was well and truly being fucked for the first time in her life. Her arse, repeatedly colliding with the tree behind her, as Ned kept on pounding her hips.
 
“Fuck! You like how i’m fucking you, whore? What would your husband say if he saw you fucking a big hairy northerner in the godswood?” Ned growled, as he steadily kept pounding into Elia’s cunt. He moved her legs up to his shoulders, resting them there, so he could place his hands on her large breasts. “Your tits are truly marvellous.” Ned said, pinching her nipples and drawing another whine from her mouth. Ned looked over to Ashara, who was biting her lip, to stifle her moans as she had three fingers in her cunt and two in her arse.
 
“AHH! ARGH FUCK! AHHHH!!!” Elia squealed, her body shaking quivering as another climax ripped its way through her as Ned continued thrusting, forcing her back against the Weirwood.
 
“Imagine if the court could see you now!” Ned said, mouth pressed against Elia’s ear as he pounded her. “The woman who will, one day, be queen. Getting fucked against a tree by a man who isn’t her husband. What would they say I wonder?” Ned asked, “Probably: Typical Dornish whore!” He laughed, pounding his massive cock deep into her quivering womb, as she clenched around him, trying to keep him in there as long as possible.
 
“AH! AH!! FUCK-PROBABLY!!! AHhh!! I AM A TYPICAL DORNISH WHORE!! YOUR WHORE!” Elia screamed and thrashed wildly as Ned increased his pace. His hands found their way down to her hips and he pulled her onto him, slamming her against his cock, her arms frantically grabbing at anything they could find purchase on. Her eyes fluttering as she locked at Ned in a haze.
 
“FUCKING TAKE IT! WHORE!” Ned roared, thrusting as deep as his cock could go, throbbing as he deposited his seed deep into Elia’s married cunt. She was a quivering mess, drooling and squealing as yet another climax wrecked her body, her cunt clamping down on his meat, trying to keep him inside her as long as possible.

 

It was more seed than Elia had ever had inside her, pushed deeper by the biggest cock she’d ever had inside her. Pregnancy was a certainty, though none there knew it at the time.

 

Ned laid her gently onto the ground. Only now did they realise that it had begun to rain. Ned looked over to Ashara, who had a satisfied look on her face as she was splayed back on the ground. Then his eyes fell to Elia. The princess was a shaking, sweaty mess, with a plentiful amount of his seed leaking from within her.

 

“We should get inside.” Ned said, collecting their dresses and his clothes, protecting them from the rain that was getting worse.

 

“I know… just the… place.” Elia said in a shaky voice, standing on shaky legs, with his seed running down her thighs.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It had been risky getting to Elia’s room. For most of it, Elia could barely walk, so she had to lean on either Ashara or Ned for support. There were times where Ned had to hide when the trio came across someone walking through the corridors. The last thing they needed was for him to be seen going into Elia’s bedroom with the two of them on his arms. When they got into the room and locked the door, Ned felt like he blinked and the women’s clothes had hit the floor.

 

Ned smiled, removing his clothes and boots. "Get on your knees…" Ned ordered as he finished removing his clothes and sat on the bed. Elia and Ashara quickly dropped to their knees and crawled over to him. The women eyed his hard cock with lust, Elia took his cock into her mouth before Ashara could get the chance.

 

“Ha! Ha! Greedy bitch!” She laughed, amazed that her friend had fallen so far into depravity so quickly.

 

“Look at me. I want to see your eyes as you suck my cock on the bed you share with your husband." Ned said. Elia looked up to him with her big brown eyes, while she slowly took inch after inch of him into her mouth, coating as much of his cock with her saliva as she could. She could only get half way down it before she began to gag. Fair enough, Ned thought, Even Ash couldn’t get all of it the first time.

 

"Gods, you look beautiful with my cock in your mouth, Princess" he said, staring into her big brown eyes as he gathered her dark hair into his fist, making sure it didn’t obstruct his view. Elia’s moans were punctuated with Gluck Gluck sounds, as she pushed his throbbing cock deeper into her throat.

 

"I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away, once you’d had a taste." Ashara beamed with delight “It’s just too good!” Ashara knelt next to Elia on the floor, watching happily as Elia eagerly sucked their northern lover. "Suck that massive, northern cock!"

 

Elia continued sucking him for a few minutes, she would spend time at the head of his cock, running her tongue over his tip as she sucked hard. Then she would take his cock deep into her throat, after that she would withdraw and lay kisses and licks along his shaft. Finally, she would make sure his balls were properly attended with her tongue, licking and sucking on them diligently, causing Ned to moan in appreciation. Then she would start over again, she reached her hand to start jerking the base of the cock as she sucked his tip. Ashara would hold Elia's hair, or push Elia’s head further down as she pleasured Ned. When Elia finally let Ned’s thick shaft slip out of her mouth, Ashara wasted no time, grabbing the veiny appendage in her hands.

 

"Now witness how a master of her craft works." she said, taking Ned all the way in. Experience served Ashara well here, after spending so many nights with Ned, she knew how to please him. She started by moving her mouth up and down on his shaft, sucking as hard as she could. While cupping his balls with her hand, the sound of her slurping echoing in the room.

 

Ashara pulled Ned’s cock out of her mouth, slapping his meat against her face a few times, Ned always enjoyed that. Turning to Elia, she reached out her hand to her hair, drawing her in for a deep, searing kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance as their breasts rubbed together. After a while, they drew apart and got to work, sucking their lover’s massive cock with great enthusiasm.

 

Ashara started at his balls and began to suck them eagerly, while Elia started with his tip and worked her way down. I could get used to this, Ned thought as he watched the two women bobbing up and down on his lap. The soft mouths of the Dornish women running along his shaft and kissing each other around his cock head, swapping it between their mouths.

 

After some minutes of the pair sucking his cock together, they were both at his balls. Each had one in their mouth as their hands jerked his glistening cock, slowly. With a POP! Elia pulled away from him. “There’s something I want to try…” She said, her eyes downcast, almost embarrassed so say.

 

“What?” Ned asked.

 

“Could I tongue your arse as Ashara sucks your cock?”

 

That was how Ned ended up standing in the middle of the room, Ashara kneeling in front of him and Elia kneeling behind. Ashara was deep throating him as Elia was pushing her tongue into his arse.

 

Ned had to admit, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling and it was certainly gratifying to have Elia sticking her tongue in his arse. The tongue she had used, and most likely would use again, to kiss Rhaegar. Maybe I should have her shove her tongue up my arse, then find her husband and give him a deep kiss, Ned thought. It was a thought unworthy of him… yet, after what Rhaegar had done it was enticing.

 

After a while, the feeling of both their tongues became too much for Ned and her shot rope after rope of his seed, deep into Ashara’s mouth as her throat bulged around him. Both Elia and Ashara drew away from him, panting as he sat down on the bed again. He could hear the window rattling as the wind and the heavy rain battered it from the outside.

 

Ned could feel something rubbing against his cock, looking up, he saw Elia and Ashara were using their breasts to rub him back to hardness. “You love our tits don’t you, Ned?” Ashara said in a sultry tone. Elia leaned forward kissed her. Ned watched their tongues dance together as they knelt on either side of him, rubbing his cock between their breasts.

 

It didn’t take long Ned to get back to full strength.

 

This lead to many hours of the trio experimenting with a number of new positions: Ashara beneath them as Ned fucked her while Elia rode her face, that ended in their shared release. His cock being ridden by Elia as Ashara rode his face. Ned put Elia on top of Ashara, they entered a deep embrace as he alternated between their cunts, fucking one, then the other.

 

Eventually, Elia had an idea. “Ashara, get the bottle of oil from Lys.” Ashara’s eyes lit up, she strutted over to a small cabinet on the other side of the room and retrieved as small bottle.

 

“And what would that be for, Princess?” Ned said as Ashara walked back to the bed, hoping he knew what it was. The two women poured the oil all over his cock

 

“You are going to go where no one else has been.” Elia said with a smile. “You’re going to fuck my arse.” Ned could barely contain his excitement, fucking Ashara’s arse had been extraordinary. He could only assume buggering a married Princess would be even better. "Well Ned, i’m ready when you-AH!," Elia was interrupted by Ned forcing his oiled cock into her arse.

 

She let out a surprised squeal, she was relaxed and eager to give Ned pleasure as he sunk his cock into her arse. Ned gave a few hard swats to her large, dark skinned arse as he fucked her slowly, enjoying the feeling of taking Elia’s anal virginity.

 

Elia could feel every inch of him filling her arse with every thrust, she loved it, making sure Ned was aware of that fact. “FUCK! THAT’S SO GOOD! FUCK ME! FUCK MY ARSE! RHAEGAR’S NEVER BEEN ANYWHERE CLOSE TO THERE!!” She screamed as Ned started to pick up his pace. He pushed Elia’s head down to Ashara's monumental breasts, hoping the massive expanse of flesh would muffle her cries.

 

"Gods, are you enjoying him taking your arse Elia?" Ashara asked, stroking her friends hair as she quivered around Ned’s cock.

 

"OHH-YES YES! FUCK!! ASH! FUCK HE’S SO GOOOOOOD!" Elia squealed and whimpered, pushing her hips back to get more of Ned’s cock into her arse. Ashara propped up her breasts and presented it to Elia, her open mouth quickly closed on the nipple. Suckling like Rhaenys did for her.

 

Ashara had always loved getting her nipples sucked. The fact that it was her beautiful, married best friend doing it, as she was getting sodomised by her lover almost made Ashara climax right there. She slid a hand into Elia’s cunt and the other into her own, rubbing them while Elia alternated between her breasts.

 

“Your arse is divine" Ned grunted, slapping her arse a few more times. Turing it from a golden brown, to red.

 

The sensations became too much for Ashara, her climax ripped through her cunt. "FUCK!" she cried out. Elia stopped sucking Ashara’s breasts and silenced her with passionate kiss. As Ashara fell back to the bed, Elia noticed the window opposite them.

 

“Ned, I want to try something.” She said, as Ned pulled out of her and she got up with shaky legs. She got to the window and threw it open, the wind and the rain burst into the warm room. Elia leaned on the angled windowsill and looked back to Ned.

 

“I want you to fuck me.” She said, Ned acquiesced to her request. Ned slid into her loosened arse with very little resistance. Elia’s hair and front were quickly soaked in cold rain water. The contrast of the warm room and the cold rain brought Elia to new heights of pleasure. Ned began to pick up the pace again, as he noticed the lights of the camp in the distance, it was unlikely anyone could see them from down there.

 

"Oh! OHHH! FUCK!! FUCK!!! GODDSS, FUCK ME NED!" Elia cried into the storm. “YOU FUCK ME SOOOO GOOD! RHAEGAR IS A TINY COCKED BASTARD WHO NEEDS TO BE CALLED DRAGON TO GET HARD!” Ashara giggled behind them upon hearing that. “FUCK DON’T STOP! PLEASE NED!! PLEEAASSSEEE!” And with that, Elia found her end. Her legs gave out, her release leaking down her legs as they quivered. Were she not leaning on the window frame, she would have fallen to the ground. Ned began to slow his thrusting as he felt her arse flutter and quake around him. Looking forward to some leisurely fucking to wined down the evening.

 

All three heads snapped towards the door when they heard someone knocking on it. “Elia? Are you in there?” They heard Rhaegar… Elia’s husband… The Crown Prince… Fuck!

 

Still inside her, Ned carried Elia to the wooden door. Using it to help him prop her up, still gently thrusting inside her. The thought of fucking Elia, while her husband was on the other side of the door was too enticing to ignore.

 

“Go away Rhaegar.” Elia panted, trying to stifle her moans. Hopefully the thick wooden door would help.

 

“You are my wife, you will listen to me. Open this door!“ They heard from the other side.

 

“Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me out there today!” Elia shouted. “That girl is a fucking child too! You’re more than ten years her senior, what could she possibly have that you want?”

 

“Maybe, if you had given me-.” Rhaegar began. Ned didn’t hear the rest of it because Elia turned to him and said

 

“Fuck me harder.” Ned obliged. Ramming into her with more speed. Ashara managed to hobble to them at the door. Crawling between Elia and Ned’s legs so she could lap at Elia’s cunt while Ned fucked her arse. “Ugghh! FUCK YOU RHAEGAR!!!” Elia squealed out as her two lovers pleasured her.

 

“Let me in!” Rhaegar shouted, sounding a bit like a petulant child. “Ser Lewyn, tell her to LET ME IN!”

 

“The Prince wants you to let him in Elia…” They heard from the other side of the door. Even better, her husband and her uncle are right there as I bugger her, Ned thought.

 

With one hand, he drew her dark hair into his fist, with the other, he held her hands behind her back in an iron grip. His thrusts into her arse were slow, but powerful. Using his hands, her pushed her against the door and lightly sunk his teeth into the back of her neck. Ashara kept lapping away at Elia’s clit, putting two of her fingers in her cunt, driving her to the edge of sanity. Elia’s body was being completely dominated by him and Ashara, as her husband and uncle were on the other side of the door completely unaware.

 

“AH! FUC-FUCK OFF!!! NOW!!!” Elia screamed into the door, as she was brought to, yet another full body climax, squirting all over Ashara’s face as she eagerly lapped up Elia’s juices.

 

After a short pause, they heard Rhaegar again. “I can see you are just too hysterical to reason with right now. Sleep well, dear wife. I will see you in the morning.” They could hear the pair walk away on the other side of the door.

 

After a few minutes to make sure they were gone, Ned finally let out a resounding “FUCK!” He was certainly close to finishing again. He pulled out of Elia, who dropped to her knees. Then both Elia and Ashara took his cock into their mouths.

 

After a few short minutes of sucking, he pulled their hair to get them off his cock, then raised their faces, ready to receive him. He let loose rope after rope of his seed on the faces and breasts of the Dornish women. After a time, they took his cock back into their mouths, making sure he was utterly spent. Finally, they pulled back, to admire each other’s faces.

 

“Gods, Ash! I don’t think even the most popular whores in Lys get covered this much” Elia laughed.

 

“I doubt it!” Ashara replied, then began to lick Ned’s seed of her friends face and tits. Ned looked down on the two beautiful, naked women with a satisfied grin.

 

“Do you want to go again?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Remember this feeling. Today, life is good…

Notes:

Well, i’m in a good mood after certain events. So you can have the next chapter now.

Chapter 6: Chapter 4

Very soon after their night with Elia, Ned had married Ashara. They had the ceremony in front of the Weirwood he had fucked her and Elia against a few nights earlier. After that, the newly weds had travelled to the Vale, so he could show her his foster home before they went to Winterfell. Then word had reached them of Lyanna’s abduction. Apparently, Rhaegar was the culprit. In a rage, Brandon had gone to King’s Landing with a number of companions to demand justice. The wolf’s blood always ran strong with him.

In an ever more frequent fit of madness, Aerys had Brandon and his followers imprisoned for treason and called Ned’s father to answer for Brandon’s crimes. That was all they knew so far. The mood was a sober one, as they ate their dinner together. Neither Ned, nor Robert were in a particular mood for japes and laughter.

Ashara was unsure what to do, she had already sent letters to Elia and her brother. Trying to get answers, or get them to speak to the King on house Stark’s behalf. They heard the door open and all looked up, seeing Jon Arryn walk into the room with a somber look, a role of parchment clasped in his hands.

Dark wings, dark words.

Seeing Jon’s face, Ned shot up from his seat “What does it say?”

“I’m so sorry Ned…”

 

—————————

 

Ned had been a boy before he received the news…now he was a man.

He closed his eyes as the cold winds rushed passed him and thought back to the early days of the tourney at Harrenhal. Or further back, to the days where he would play with Bran and Lya in the Winterfell courtyard, as mother and father watched over them. Life had seemed simpler then. He had wanted to become a Witcher like great uncle Beric ‘The Bloodwolf’ and fight monsters.

Now… his mother had died in childbed some years passed, his father and older brother were murdered by a madman and his sister was somewhere only the gods knew. It seems I am to fight monsters after all… To say that Ned was angry, would be the understatement of the year.

Now, Ned was the Prince of Winterfell, having completed the trial of winter, with Benjen ruling the North as Ned lead their armies. Three and ten years old and he has to rule the biggest kingdom in Westeros, Ned thought. He didn’t envy his little brother. Yet, he knew it was the safest place for him. The North was extremely well defended, he was surrounded by loyal advisers and Beric. ‘The Bloodwolf’ was the greatest swordsman in the North, he had taught Ned everything he knew, he would protect Benjen till his dying breath. Should the worst happen, the North would be able to throw off all invaders from the south.

Snowsong roared beneath him as she beat her wings a few times, climbing higher into the sky. Ned had flown on a few of the Great-Eagles that lived in the Vale, yet nothing could compare to flying on dragon back.

Especially now that he didn’t feel the biting cold anymore.

The trial of winter had awoken the Others blood that lay dormant in the Stark line. His newfound strength and enhanced senses had required some getting used to, yet Ned was managing. He had yet to transform into a wolf, it was something he would have to practice after the war. If there is an after... The Ice magic required constant practice to master, the Druids had given him a book written by Cregan ‘The Mage’ to help understand his new abilities, it had been quite useful. Now he could form simple weapons out of ice and produce blasts so cold, that could freeze a man solid. So far, the greatest benefit Ned could see was that cold no longer affected him.

Of course, being the Prince of Winterfell had meant something else too, Ice. He was always aware of his family’s sword, now. It called to him. Upon hearing the news of his father and brother, he had gone to a balcony, reached out his hand and summoned the sword to him. It had flown all the way from the Red Keep to his hand.

Holding Ice in his hands for the first time was a bittersweet experience, to say the least. It was the legendary blade of house Stark, it’s contemporaries were Blackfyre… Darksister… Dawn... It was the sword that had been held by all his fathers since the time of ‘The Builder’. It was the sword that should have been Brandons… Ned let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

Thoughts of his family were a bed of nettles, so he looked to Snowsong. As Gnasher and Saeraxys were riderless, they had stayed in the North. He had not seen the dragons for quite some time. Snowsong was a beautiful creature, silvery white and blue scales covered her, with blue, leathery wings. She was long and bulky, with three long horns that bent forward from her head, giving her an intimidating visage. Ned couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was the largest dragon house Stark owned. She wasn’t quite as big as Robert’s dragon: Stormbreaker, but she was a few decades younger than him.

He flew over the column of his troops, making their way to Riverrun, to meet up with the Riverlander and Valeish armies. It was some comfort to Ned that Ashara would be there too, she had stayed in the Vale as he traveled to the North. Once they had decided where their armies would go, Ashara would be sent to the safety of Winterfell.

Even at this height, he could pick out the faces of each of his bannermen with his enhanced vision. He saw the banner of the Winter Wolves and the Ice guard at the head to the column. The Winter Wolves were the bulk of house Stark’s army. Eight thousand, professional soldiers that did nothing but train and fight. Their discipline was well known, their deeds legendary. Armed and armoured in black Uru, they could beat a force three times their size and only the best of the Winter Wolves got to join the ranks of the Ice guard. The Ice guard was was made of the greatest fighters in the North. One hundred and fifty men and women that guarded Winterfell and house Stark. They were unique, for having magic weapons made out of ice, that would shatter normal steel.

Ned cast his eye over his forces, looking for his Direwolf. He found Fang, padding along at the head of the column, with a pack of hundreds of monstrous Direwolves. He could see the Giants, riding their war mammoths beside house Mormonts Bear cavalry and the Children of the Forest, their green and brown skin setting them apart from the men. At the back of the column, he could see the Dwarves marching steadily along, in their thick armour. There were very few cavalry’s in Westeros that would hope to have a chance against a Dwarven shield wall.

All peoples, from all over the North had answered his call. Such was the loyalty afforded to house Stark. He loathed to admit it, but the fact that the North was, so far, the only kingdom that was completely on one side of this war was a great source of satisfaction for him. Forty thousand Northerners were marching south, into what would be a bloody war, to protect one Stark, avenge two other Starks and rescue a third.

Ned looked into the distance and saw Riverrun ahead. He gritted his teeth, knowing that when he got there, he would probably meet the woman who would have married his brother: Catelyn Tully. What the hell am I going to tell her…?

 

—————————

 

“My daughter will not be given less!” Lord Hoster Tully said. “Our families had an agreement, my oldest daughter would marry the Prince of Winterfell, now that’s you, Stark.” All guilt Ned felt about fucking Minisa Tully at Harrenhal was disappearing. The negotiations between Robert, Jon, Ned and Lord Hoster had been going on for some time. All of them and Ashara were sitting in Hoster’s solar at Riverrun. Jon had agreed to marry Catelyn’s sister Lysa, but Hoster wanted Ned too. In spite of his behaviour, it was hard for Ned to feel too angry with the Tully lord. They were asking him to rebel against the crown after all.

“Perhaps, I have a solution.” Ashara said, diplomatically. “The old gods do not forbid polygamy. My husband and I could both marry Catelyn. Then, your daughter would still marry the Prince of Winterfell.”

“That will not do!” responded Hoster, “Who would inherit first between your children and hers?”

Ashara paused, “Whoever is oldest will inherit, as if all children born from this marriage come from one mother. I will not bed my husband until Lady Catelyn has birthed two boys. Then the next Prince of Winterfell is sure to have Tully blood.”

Ned turned to her with concern, “You don’t need to do this.” He said, touching her arm.

“You were a second son when I married you, I did not expect our children to be Princes of Winterfell. If this gets us the armies we need, then so be it.” Ashara said with a sad smile.

In that moment, Ned could not have loved her more. “Are these terms agreeable, Lord Hoster?”

He sat there, stroking his chin for a while, contemplating his position. “Aye.”

 

—————————

 

The wedding was held the next day, it was a short affair. The most memorable moment of it was when when Ned and Ashara had removed Catelyn’s veil. The pair were shocked at her beauty. She had pale, freckled skin, high cheekbones and gorgeous blue eyes. Her hair was long and flaming red, going down past her monumental chest. Ned could practically feel Ashara vibrating next to him when she laid eyes on it. They were so big, they looked to be bursting out of her conservative wedding dress.

However, her beauty only made Ned feel all the more guilty for marrying her. Brandon… I have taken all that was meant to be yours. After the ceremony, during the feast Ned had danced with both of his wives and they had danced with each other. Both Ned and Ashara had tried to make polite conversation with their new wife, but Catelyn appeared to be apprehensive of their new arrangement. Gods… she is probably still mourning Brandon.

After they had had some wine, Catelyn had began to open up a little, laughing at some of the japes, adding her own. It turned out Catelyn was quite a witty woman. Eventually, as the night drew to a close, the bards started singing “The Queen took off her sandal and the King too off his crown”. Ned knew the bedding ceremony was coming.

It certainly wasn’t dignified.

Crowds of people gathered around all three of them, divesting them of their clothes. The women “ooh’d” and “ahhh’d” at his body some even going so far as to place a hand around his cock and give it a few tugs to get it hard. He could see the crowds gathered around his wives as their dresses were thrown into the air with cheers. He could hear the japes they were making as they all moved to the bed chamber. Ned hoped his wives were alright, at least as alright as they could be. Ned was the first to be deposited into the room, a few minutes later, his wives joined him, as naked as he was.

All three stood, switching between looking at each of the other two, waiting.

For the first time, Ned was finally able to take in all of Catelyn’s naked glory.

She had a slender, yet very curvy, hourglass figure. With fair skin that bore a light coating of freckles over most of her body. Ned could see that her fiery, red hair hung down to her waist. It was so beautiful, Ned had to restrain himself from walking right up to her and running his hands through it. She had clear blue eyes and high cheekbones, slightly flushed as she stood naked before two strangers.

Further down, on her freckled chest sat the two most perfect breasts Ned had ever seen. They were the largest of any woman he had known and sat high on her chest, capped with two, small dark nipples, hardened to points in the cool air. Further still was her flat stomach, with a thin waist that flared out into wide, womanly hips leading down to thick thighs and long legs. A small, neat patch of flame red, curly hair sitting just above her cunt.

After a long pause, Ashara burst out laughing.

“This might be one of the most awkward positions of my life.” She giggled. She walked over to a jug of wine and brought three goblets to a table between them. “I think, the more we drink, the easier it will be for us.” Ashara said, offering her husband and wife a cup.

Both Ned and Catelyn retrieved cups for themselves and began to drink.

“So…” Catelyn said between sips, gathering her courage. “We have been wedded, now we must be…bedded…How is this going to work?” Ned wasn’t quite ready for the question directed at him.

“With your permission, Ned will be bedding you…” Ashara answered for him, thankfully. “Hopefully with my help.” She added with a wink. “Or if you are not attracted to women, I can watch you two, or not...”

Catelyn looked between them inquisitively “Will you not bed your other wife, my Prince?”

“Ned is my name and I hope you would be comfortable enough to use it.” Ned said. “We have made an agreement with your father: The oldest child in the marriage will inherit and I will not bed Ash until you have birthed two boys.”

Catelyn turned to Ashara with empathy in her eyes. “I am sorry, Ashara. Sorry that I am forcing my way into your marriage.” She actually seemed a little upset that she had married the two of them

“You aren’t forcing your way into our marriage.” Ashara said, walking up to her, taking Catelyn’s hands into her own. “I suggested this.”

Catelyn paused. “Then, I would also hope for both of you to call me Cat. Those closest to me always do.”

Ashara stroked a few, beautiful hairs out of Catelyn’s face. “Come, Cat. I believe it is time to do what is expected of us. This time next year, we might all be dead. Let us enjoy tonight, while we can.”

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps their new wife was more adventurous than they had thought. As she stopped for a moment, Catelyn put her hands around Ashara’s head and pulled her close. Ned was surprised to see his two wives lock lips for the first time. He heard Ashara make a surprised sound, then saw her close her eyes and return Catelyn’s kiss eagerly. Leaning into her, placing one hand in her wife’s hair and the other on her large arse, beginning to squeeze the plump flesh, pulling the two women closer in their embrace.

The sight of their union was glorious.

Ashara’s olive skin and dark hair, against Catelyn’s very pale skin and red hair, Ned could hear their heartbeats going faster and faster. Their huge breasts pressed together as both leaned into their kiss, their tongues moving together in a dance that, if the gods were good, would never end.

Minutes passed and they pulled apart, both panting, their breasts rising and falling on their rib cages as a single string of saliva, still connected their mouths.

“You’ve done that before.” Ashara panted, her eyes lighting up.

Catelyn blushed slightly more and looked to the side. “There was some…experimentation with one or two of my maids.” Ashara smiled and leaned up to kiss Catelyn some more.

More time passed and eventually, the two turned to him. Ned watched as they walked up to him, giggling and threw their arms around his neck. Catelyn’s lips were the first to find his, she tasted like strawberries and Ashara. Ned leaned further into their embrace as his fingers ran through her long, red hair. Feelings of guilt, quickly becoming a distant memory.

They were pulled apart by Ashara, who quickly replaced Catelyn on his lips. The trio stood like that for a time, alternating between who was kissing whom. It ended when Catelyn let out small squeak as his hardening cock brushed against her entrance for the first time.

“I’m sorry, Cat.” Ned said, pulling apart from his wives.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Ned.” Catelyn said, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. “I am your wife now. Your cock is something I would have to face sooner or later.”

“Speaking of our husbands cock.” Ashara said, “I feel we should be carrying out our wifely duties and attending to it, don’t you?” A little nervousness took over Catelyn then. “As you have been his wife longer, I would follow your lead.”

They put Ned on his back, on a pile of pillows on the bed. His cock, jutting up into the air for his wives to see. Catelyn could only stare at the massive, veiny pillar of flesh as it twitched. Catelyn thought it was a beautiful and monstrous thing. It was long and as thick as her wrist, with veins going along its length and a patch of course, dark hair above the base of his cock.

Ashara could tell, this was the first time Catelyn had seen a cock, so she took the lead. “First, place your hand on the shaft.” She said gently, as she lay beside Ned and Catelyn knelt between his legs. Catelyn, tentatively put one of her hand around the base of his cock… it couldn’t go the whole way around. She could feel the hot blood pumping through it as it pulsed in her hand.

“Now, you can take it into your mouth.” Ashara said. The thought of Catelyn wrapping her lips around his member made Ned even harder. At Ashara’s urging, she moved closer to it, inch-by-inch as her tongue lightly ran over her lips. 

“Ye Gods,” she gasped, as she marvelled at it’s length. “it’s… massive.”

“I know,” Ashara grinned, “you and I are going to have sooo much fun with this cock.”

Hearing the two beautiful, naked women talking about his cock made Ned think he was in paradise. He placed a hand on Ashara’s hip, snaking up her back as she giggled. Ned could see Catelyn’s other hand find it’s way to the junction of her thighs and begin to rub small circles in it. 

Catelyn’s eyes found Ned’s, he could see her lips part, feel her warm breath on his cock. Her lidded eyes were dark with arousal.

“Yes, that’s it.” Ashara said, as she placed a hand on Catelyn’s head and guided her down to his cock. He felt her tongue on him first, giving him a long lick over his cock head. Then he felt her lips around him, fully enclosing his cock head in her mouth.

“Good.” Ashara encouraged. “Now that you have his head, don’t think about the rest of it. Suck hard and circle your tongue around him. You can pump your hand a few times too.”

Ned shuddered as Catelyn’s cheeks hollowed and she began to suck him, while pumping his cock and running her tongue all over his cock head. It took all of Ned’s will power not to thrust up right then and fuck her mouth. Catelyn is not Ashara, even she couldn’t take all of me the first time. Give her time and don’t make her choke. Choking his new wife was hardly something Ned wanted to happen, at least not without consent. The wet sounds of Catelyn sucking and Ashara pleasuring herself filled the air.

“Gods, she’s a natural.” Ashara said, amazed as Catelyn began to bob her head up and down Ned’s cock as she sucked and pumped him. Then, she stopped sucking and started to place kisses all along his cock. She went from his tip down the sides of his shaft, leaving a trail of kisses to his balls. Ned let out a long groan as Catelyn started sucking on his sack as she pumped his shaft harder and quicker. She didn’t let up, in fact she quickened her pace even more, keeping her lips firmly pressed against him, switching from one ball to the other, sucking, licking and kissing along her way.

“Hhmmmmmphh…” moaned Ashara, as she watched Catelyn’s display. Ned could tell that Catelyn was having the time of her life, playing with his cock as she pleasured herself. From her position, she gazed at him, with her clear blue eyes full of life and desire. She smiled as she kissed her way back up to the tip of his cock. When she got there, she began to kiss it as sensually as she had kissed Ashara earlier, before parting her lips and taking him into her mouth again.

Ned groaned in appreciation, as her warm mouth engulfed him. The warm wetness Catelyn’s mouth was tight around his shaft as he felt himself going deeper and deeper. Ashara placed her hands back on Catelyn’s head, guiding her as she slurped up and down his cock again, making sure with each bob, she went a little further down. Sometimes Catelyn would need a break, so Ashara let her rest, sucking Ned’s cock head for a while.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetling.” Ashara would urge. “You’re a natural.” Every now and then, Catelyn would choke on his length and Ashara would have to let her off him to recover, she would always come back, trying to get further down each time.

“Fucking hells woman! Even I couldn’t take that much of him on the first night.” Ashara exclaimed, as she saw Catelyn take just over two thirds of his length and come off coughing.

“Fuck,” Ned let out through gritted teeth, fisting the bedsheets a little. “I’m nearly there…”

Ashara knelt down behind Catelyn and began to instruct her. “First, you place both hands on him, I will take care of you.” She said as she took both of Catelyn’s hands, wrapping them around his shaft as she placed her hand of Catelyn’s cunt and began rubbing.

“Then, you just suck his tip, swirling you tongue around him as you pump both hands. Don’t swallow his seed.” Catelyn moaned against Ned as Ashara rubbed her and she started sucking Ned’s cock head. He let out a long, low moan as he flexed his hips forward.

Seconds stretched into centuries as his cock pulsed several times, until his seed burst in a tidal wave from his throbbing cock. It was a never ending stream of pleasure as he spent rope, after rope into Catelyn’s mouth. Who eagerly drank the first few helpings of his seed down, as she found release on Ashara’s fingers.

After Ashara pulled Catelyn off his cock, she gave her wife a full, open mouthed kiss. Ned could see them swapping his seed between their mouths. He didn’t know if he had ever seen a more erotic sight. His wives let out a satisfied sigh as they pulled apart, panting as they rested on their knees in front of him, their eyes heavily lidded will lust.

“That was wonderful,” Ned finally chuckled, he picked up both Catelyn and Ashara like they weighed nothing. “But I think it is time I had your cunt, don’t you agree?” They giggled in response as Ned flung them onto the bed.

“I think it is, Ned.” Catelyn smiled as he settled himself between her thighs, she shivered as his long, hard cock smacked down on her pelvis. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw it went from her cunt almost all the way up to her bellybutton.

Ned stopped for a moment, to take in Catelyn’s beauty. Her pale skin took on a warm hue in the flickering firelight from the torches and the hearth, adding to her allure. His eyes drifted over her massive breasts, standing high on her freckled chest as they rose and fell with each breath. Her small nipples stood to attention on her chest, in spite of the warm temperature of the room. Ned’s eyes drifted further down, passed her flat stomach to her wide, child bearing hips and the tuft of red hair that grew on her mound. Finally, his gaze rested on Catelyn’s silky cunt.

“I feel it’s time our new wife was bedded, don’t you?” Ashara smiled, gripping the base of his cock and angling it to Catelyn. “It is your duty to breed me, Ned…” Catelyn added, bitting her lip as a blush spread across her cheeks and chest. The thought of breeding Catelyn touched something deep inside him. A primal urge that would not relent until it was satisfied. The Wolf’s blood runs strong indeed.

The prospect seemed to be just as enticing to Catelyn as she put her hands on his back and pulled him closer to her, so his cock was just kissing her outer lips.

“Lean down and kiss her as you go inside.” Ashara advised as she was playing with herself. Ned went down to give Catelyn a full kiss as slowly eased his way inside Catelyn’s womanhood. She let out a moan into his mouth as his cockhead entered her. Deeper he went, a few more inches, then he drew back evenly, drawing a moan from Catelyn’s lips at his absence. Then he pushed back in, deeper this time, then back out, then deeper again. She clutched to Ned at the slight pain of him taking her maidenhead.

Knowing he was causing her pain, Ned halted his thrusts, nearly half way inside her.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it might be when I saw you cock.” Catelyn gasped out.

“I can slow down if that is your wish, Cat.” Ned offered.

“No!…No, I’m alright, please don’t stop, Ned.”

Ned turned over to Ashara, looking for assurance “If she says don’t stop, then don’t stop, my dear.” She said.

“Who am I to argue with my wives.” Ned withdrew slightly, then began to thrust in earnest, picking up his pace, yet remaining manageable for Catelyn.

They quickly found their rhythm, it turned out Ned and Catelyn were remarkably in sync with each other. Ned felt Ashara watching them as she played with herself, their tongues dancing together as they both thrust their hips to meet each other. Catelyn might have had the tightest cunt he had ever felt. It was warm, wet and silky smooth as it’s quivering walls massaged his cock in its journey to go where no one had gone before.

Few words were spoken by the lovers, even Ashara said little. It was mainly moans, whines and the occasional squeal. All three were lost in pleasure and the heady aroma of sex in the air. Catelyn sucked on one of Ashara’s nipples as her fingers found her way into Ashara’s cunt, making her moan and cry into Ned’s mouth as Catelyn brought Ashara to climax while embracing him. Seeing his wives pleasuring each other made Ned thrust even quicker, his hand replacing Catelyn’s in Ashara as the pleasure became too much for Catelyn.

Eventually, Ned was thrusting all the way inside her, going up to the hilt. The first time he did, sent Catelyn in to a full body climax. She was quaking and thrashing on the bed, letting out a symphony of operatic tones from her mouth as Ashara sucked on the nipples of her monumental breasts. Her head thrown back in orgasmic bliss, her divine body fully exposed to any who would take pleasure in it, her husband and wife certainly took pleasure in it and gave it in equal measure.

Catelyn’s face was one of supreme bliss, her eyes rolled back, gasping as she was fucked by her spouses. After a while, Catelyn began to lap at Ashara’s cunt as she was instructed by her. Her talented tongue bringing Ashara to another peak as Ned tweaked her breasts. She smiled as she kissed Ned and quivered on Catelyn’s tongue.

“We *pant* are going to have so much fun *pant* with our *pant* Tully *pant* wife.” She gasped out eventually.

Even Ned, with all his experience and magical enhancement could not last forever. Having brought his wives to several powerful climaxes, he could feel his own end fast approaching as he began to thrust deep inside Catelyn for the thousandth time.

He could feel it welling up inside him.

The wet slaps of his pelvis on Catelyn’s filled the room as he thrust harder and faster than he had at any other point in the night. His grey eyes met Catelyn’s bright blue ones, they were hazy and unfocused with pleasure, yet she could still tell what was about to happen. The strength to move her hips up to him had left her long ago, yet she still tried to meet his thrusts, trying to make sure that his seed would find it’s way deep inside her.

Ned gritted his teeth as a deep growl reverberated from his throat. There might have been a real danger that he would transform while still fucking her. He had to keep control as that was something that definitely wouldn’t end well.

Ned let out a loud roar as he buried himself up to the hilt inside her, shooting forth a seemingly unending torrent of his seed inside Catelyn. She could feel Ned depositing his thick, potent seed deep inside her womb, filling her to bursting as she came undone around him.

They found their end together as Catelyn’s silky, smooth walls tightened around him. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Ashara, coming down from her own climax, was still rubbing slow circles around her clit. All three sweaty bodies lay together, panting, breathing in the heady smell of their lovemaking.

“Gods…If you’re not pregnant from that…” Ashara laughed to Catelyn as the two women kissed lazily.

“I hope we have pleased you to your satisfaction, dear wife.” Ned said to Catelyn, dryly as he pulled out of her and rolled over to her other side on the bed, letting a river of his seed flow out of her.

“You have indeed, dear husband…you have indeed.” She moaned against Ned as she cuddled up against his side and Ashara cuddled to her back. All three, basking in the warmth of their partners.

Ned being only a mortal man, his close proximity to two very naked and very beautiful women caused his cock to get hard again after not too long.

“Ready to go again, sweetling?” Ashara said, smirking into Catelyn’s ear. Catelyn looked at Ned’s cock longingly

“I don’t know if I can take it again so soon. It’s a miracle I managed to take it at all.”

“In that case,” Ashara said as she swung a leg over Catelyn, straddling her wife’s hips “He never said anything about taking my arse, Ned.”

“He puts his cock up you arse?” Catelyn exclaimed, her surprise plain to see.

“Yes he does, my dear Cat” Ashara said as she leaned down, on top of Catelyn started to kiss her mouth and Ned positioned himself behind her. “And it feels heavenly.”

“We’ve no oil.” Ned said, as he teased Ashara’s back hole. “But I think Cat’s natural lubrication will serve well enough.” Ned marvelled at Ashara’s massive arse. It was soft, round, toned, with a dark olive skin tone it was wobbling enticingly. He gave each cheek a few smacks that rang through the room, eliciting moans from Ashara as she pushed her hips back into them. She moaned into Catelyn’s mouth as Ned put a finger in her bum, easing it in and out slowly, preparing her for the next step.

Ned could see Catelyn and Ashara were already playing with each other, fingers in each other’s cunts and pinching each other’s nipples. Ashara was quivering in anticipation of getting har arse fucked as she lay on top of her beautiful wife. Ned pressed his tip against Ashara’s arsehole, drawing more moans from her.

He placed a hand on her back, pushing her further onto Catelyn, using his weight to sink deeper inside Ashara’s arse. After months of being fucked by his cock, her arse had loosened up, though still incredibly tight.

“Ffffuuuuuuuuuuccckkk!” Whined Ashara, as Catelyn got a close up view of what she looked like when Ned fucked her up the arse. She had to take a handful of Ashara’s hair to keep it up. Her mouth was open, her beautiful, haunting eyes were glazed over. Catelyn wondered what it might feel like…

Ned watched his member slide deep into Ashara’s arse, filling her up to the hilt. He waited for a few seconds after her arsehole reached the base of his cock, allowing her arse to reacclimatise to the familiar sensation. Then he began to thrust again, slowly building up more speed as Ashara moaned even louder.

“I think our wife wants you to bugger her faster.” Catelyn laughed beneath them.

“Is that you wish, Ash?” Ned asked as he smacked her arse a few times. Ashara could only moan as her arsehole quivered around his meaty member.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ned smiled, beginning to pound her even harder and faster. Ned placed his hands on Ashara’s wide hips, holding them up as the rest of her had collapsed on top of Catelyn. Loud, wet slaps bounced off the walls of the room, joining the chorus of moans and squeals coming from Ashara and Catelyn. Ned could see their shadows, cast by the fire, flickering and dancing together on the wall.

“AH! AH!! FUCK ME!! AH!!!! FUCK ME NED!!!!!” Ashara screamed.

“YES!!! FUCK HER ARSE NED!!!!” Catelyn joined her.

Their cries climbed higher and higher, as the pressure built up and up. Ned could hear nothing but the clap of Ashara’s arse cheeks and the beating of his wives’ hearts. He could see nothing but his cock, going into and out of Ashara’s arsehole, again and again. Both cheeks wobbling and bouncing together as he kept pounding them.

Ashara was squirting before Ned started to climax, her face was buried in Catelyn’s hair, muffling her cries, quivering and twitching as she was ravaged. Like she always did, Ashara’s arsehole never failed to milk every last drop of seed from Ned’s cock. Willing his hips down on to her arse, one last time, Ned found his end… again. His throbbing cock sending wave after wave of his seed into Ashara’s arsehole.

The last thing Ashara saw before she drifted into sleep, was Ned taking Catelyn out from under her and rutting her like she was a bitch in heat as she screamed in delight.

It was also the sight she woke up to as well.

It seemed her husband and wife had either woken up early, or spent the whole night fucking. Ned had her against a table, pressing her down as he was ramming up her arse with some force, delivering a few spanks every few thrusts. Being rewarded with cries for more from Catelyn, begging for Ned to fuck her.

As Ashara couldn’t walk thanks the the night before, she had to call Ned over to carry her to the table. The servants had gotten quite a shock when they came in to wake them and saw the Prince of Winterfell fucking his red haired wife up her arse as she eagerly lapped at her dark haired wife.

Later that day, they had said their goodbyes.

Ned would lead his armies south, Ashara and Catelyn were given an escort of fifty Ice guard to take them to Winterfell. Ned promised to write them letters whenever he was able as they kissed him goodbye and he mounted Snowsong. Ned watched his wives as long as he could before he left, committing their details to memory. In all likelihood, he might never see them again.

With grim resolve, he tugged Snowsong’s reigns as she sprung into the air, urging her south, to war.

Notes:

Well, here is the beginning of Ned’s marriage to his wives. I hope you enjoyed Catelyn’s introduction. Also, while I do value all of your kudos’ and Bookmarks equally, there is something I need to say.

*cough*

HOLY SHIT! Sigil_of_House_Throckmorton Bookmarked my work! And RC97 gave me a kudos!

*cough*

In all seriousness, those are creators I have followed for quite some time. This fic would not exist without those writers. If, for some bizarre reason, you’ve read my work, but not theirs. Do yourself a favour and read it.

Also, Sigil, Seeds of the Northern Kingdom part 2 when? JK Jk

Chapter 7: Chapter 5

It was a damp morning at Harrenhal, a light rain fell from the sky as the rebel army went about it’s business in their camp. For the duration of their stay, Ned had taken up residence in the room he had fucked Elia and Ashara in. He was not alone.

The loud sounds of wet slapping and low moaning filled the room, as Ned pounded into Lady Alerie Tyrell’s prone body. She was face down on the bed, her head buried into the pillows as Ned fucked her, delivering several hard spanks to her shaking arse has he went. His red handprints were all over her massive arse, jiggling against his pelvis as he savagely rammed into her.

Ned looked over to the catatonic form of Lady Anna Henrietta, who lay next to them. His seed still leaking out of her gaping cunt and arse. His eyes then drifted to Janna and Mina Tyrell, who lay in similar states on the floor next to the bed.

They had been captured after the battle of Ashford. Robert’s forces had been defeated by the armies of the Reach. His dragon, a black and gold behemoth, had fought two dragons from house Tyrell, severely wounding one, before being forced to retreat. The armies of the Stormlands were on the run as the Reachmen chased them.

Luckily, Ned, Jon’s and Hoster’s forces had been able to intercept them. The Northmen’s wargs gave them unparalleled scouting ability, this had allowed the rebel forces to know exactly where Robert was.

Ned’s first taste of battle had been a terrible one. Flying over the field on Snowsong, alongside the Arryn eagles and griffins had given him full view of the battle. Ned had never been more horrified.

He had used Snowsong’s frozen breath to create a wall around the Reach’s cavalry as they charged into Robert’s rear. Then, sent in the armoured giants, with their scythe-like weapons, alongside Mormont and Ryswell heavy cavalry.

It was like watching farmers harvest wheat, if wheat could bleed and beg for mercy.

A very quick battle between Snowsong and Mace Tyrell’s fat green dragon had ensued. Snowsong came out victorious, sending her opponent dragon away with a torn wing, having raked one of her long horns along it. According to their scouts, Mace Tyrell’s dragon was now near grounded, so it could heal.

In truth, the battle was a quick thing. Once the enemy forces had seen their lord quickly and easily defeated, they realised how much the odds were stacked against them. They routed, leaving their camps behind.

Apparently, some of the lords were travelling with their wives, who had been left for the rebels to care for. Upon hearing that the rebels had his wife and sisters, Mace Tyrell had started to invade and pillage the Stormlands. Taking hostages of the people there. This had meant a number of Robert’s bannermen had left to return to their homeland. The loss in numbers wasn’t debilitating, but it also wasn’t insignificant.

Of course, all the hostages were treated with the respect their station deserved. Lady Alerie had come to him, to thank him for his kind treatment. They had gotten to talking…things escalated from there. In fact, they had escalated so much that Alerie invited her good-sisters Janna and Mina into his bed, along with her cousin lady Anna Henrietta. The ladies had become his bedwarmers in the short time they had been with him. A deep, dark part of Ned’s mind took great pleasure in beating his enemy, wounding his dragon, then fucking his sisters, his wife and her cousin for weeks as they screamed in pleasure and begged for more.

They certainly seemed to enjoy it when he gave it to them.

“FUUUUUCK MEEEEEE!! YOU’RE SOOOOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN MY HUSBAND!!!!” Alerie screamed into the pillows as he drove her to yet another climax around his cock. I’ll definitely need new sheets after this, Ned mused. There were large wet stains on the bed where Alerie and Anna lay, evidence of their pleasure and his own.

Ned gritted his teeth as he felt her cunt tighten around him again, driving him to his own end as he buried himself inside her, filling her womb with his seed…again.

He stayed fully sheathed inside her for a time. Looking over the four women. All of them were buxom, while he wouldn’t describe them as thin, they weren’t fat either. Their weight seemed to be concentrated on their tits, hips and arses, thankfully. Alerie was very pretty, with typical Valyrian features. Janna and Mina were very similar, both with lightly tanned-skin, light brown, curly hair and brown-green eyes. Anna Henrietta was the most beautiful of the group. She was gorgeous, with golden light-brown hair, high cheekbones and striking blue eyes.

All four women were his to use as he pleased…and please him, they did. After Ned finally finished shooting his seed into Alerie, he pulled out of her with a grunt, his seed dripping from her lips. She had fallen unconscious like the other three women, so Ned tried not to disturb them as he got off the bed and walked, naked to his desk.

Catelyn and Ashara had demanded that he write to them after every sexual encounter and tell them all about it. In this, Ned found that one of the most difficult things a person could do was write erotica. It’s like getting blood from a stone, he thought. Alerie and Anna sucked my cock together…it felt nice…No, they’ll want more than that. It was true, after the first few letters, his wives had written back, telling him to be more descriptive. Then they had given an example, by writing what they had done the night before.

It seemed his two wives were certainly keeping each other satisfied in his absence. Ned could not deny, the thought of his wives fucking each other, as they read about him fucking other women was an arousing one.

As Ned wrote, he heard footsteps coming towards his door. He let his mind leave his body and saw through Fang’s eyes, as his direwolf was standing guard at his door. Lady Sylvie, the leader of the Children of the Forest in his army was walking briskly towards his room, stopping only to give a few, loving pets to Fang. She was one of his oldest friends, she had even been his first and perhaps Brandon’s too.

She was beautiful, tall, with amber eyes, pale green skin, long, pointed ears and tightly braided, dark red hair. She wore a dark blue gambeson, breeches and leather boots. She knocked when she got his door.

“You may enter.” Ned called out. She opened the door and came inside, standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes drifted over the sweaty, nude women, strewn around before settling on Ned, unfazed by his nudity.

“Stark of Starks,” She greeted. “I was wondering why the chosen men weren’t guarding your door, now I see you’ve been enjoying our guests.” She chuckled.

“Yes, these southern women are a lusty lot. You should try some.”

“Oh, I intent to.” Sylvie said, walking to Anna Henrietta, still splayed over the bed. She took a fist full of the woman’s hair to pull her head up, then put two fingers into her well-used cunt. She pumped them in and out, drawing moans from the southern woman, before she withdrew them. Coated with Ned’s seed, she held them in front of Anna’s dazed eyes.

“Do you have any idea of the honour Prince Stark has afforded you?” She asked, “He has given you his seed. You could be carrying his child. A Stark child. A privilege I doubt you deserve.” With that, she began to lick her long, green fingers clean. Eagerly slurping up all of Ned’s seed on her fingers. She turned to Ned, eyes resting on his twitching cock.

“Do you wish me to serve you, Stark of Starks?” She smirked, then she walked over to him, knelt down and started kissing his cock head.

“Be quick about it then.” Ned moaned, placing his hands on her head, making her take his cock deep into her mouth as he began to pump his hips. He could hear her gagging around his shaft, yet she continued on. Diligently sucking her Prince, she started to undo the bindings of her gambeson, stripping it off, leaving her in her undershirt. She quickly drew back from his cock, to take the shirt over her head. Revealing her very toned physique and her large, firm breasts, sitting high on her chest, capped with hard, dark green nipples.

She inhaled his cock again, lips going all the way to the base of his shaft as she fondled his ballsack with her hands. “I love this cock!” She gasped as she took it out of her mouth to lick along it’s length. “I swear by the old gods, one day I will ask the Right of Continuation from you.”

Ned laughed at that. “I look forward to breeding you then, my lady.” The Right of Continuation was an old tradition in the North. If the female head of a great house was un-married, she could ask the Stark of Starks to give her an heir. She would not need to marry, so she would retain control of her house. Any child born from the Right of Continuation would not have any place in the Stark succession, but would not be a bastard. It would be as if the child did not have a father, according to the law. The Stark did have the right to refuse the northern lady, but the Starks have always been happy to help a lady in need.

Ned’s panting became more apparent, he was getting close, he could feel the familiar building of pressure inside him. “I think it’s time I brought this to an end.” Ned said, standing up. Sylvie got into a more comfortable position as she knelt. Ned placed his hands on her head and began to fuck her throat, roughly.

She took it without complaint, her big amber eyes looking up at him as he pumped in and out of her mouth, drool flowing from her mouth and landing on her bouncing breasts. Ned could see her eye’s watering and hear her gagging as the pressure came to a peak, he pushed as far as he could and let forth wave after wave of seed down her throat, she swallowed it eagerly.

Ned pulled out of her mouth and shot his last few ropes over her beautiful face, covering it as she smiled. Ned fell back into his chair with a sigh, they both sat, panting. Ned watched her large tits rise and fall on her chest as she cleaned his seed of her face, tasting it all.

“While I think you look more beautiful than ever covered in my seed, I doubt you should walk out of this room like that.” He said, getting up from the chair as it creaked.

“I would do it if you told me to, Stark of Starks…” she was trying to rile him up, to get him to bend her over his desk and fuck her till she passed out again. His cock was at her eye level, twitching. For a second he considered it…but no.

“Nice try, Sylvie. I don’t believe you just came here to suck my cock. So, out with it.”

She quickly got redressed and they walked out of his room, leaving the still naked women to their collective sex coma.

“Fang, guard the door.” Ned said, the Direwolf barked in affirmation, sitting on his hindquarters, his tail wagging.

“I came to discuss the state of our forces and what we lost in our last battle.” Sylvie said, as if Ned hadn’t been skull fucking her, minutes before. A grim look fell on Ned’s face. They began to walk down the corridor, to the steps of the tower.

“Yes,” he said, “tell me what we lost…”

“Thankfully, we haven’t lost too many men.” She began, “The Northern forces are still around forty thousand strong. The majority of our losses were in the cavalry, they rushed in to cover the retreat of the Stormlander forces. They got hit pretty hard by the Reach’s counter attack, that Tarly is a clever bugger. Fortunately, he didn’t account for you, Stark of Starks.” She eyed him with a suggestive smirk.

They walked through Harrenhal, talking of their forces. Walking along the walls, checking all of the watchmen. Over head, the birds of the warg counter-scouts flew. Always searching for enemy scouts, trying to spy on northern forces. They visited the smiths, seeing Dwarves ply their trade was always something Ned could appreciate. It was here where they found the Chosen men, so called because they were the best of the Ice guard. Chosen by the Prince of Winterfell to guard him and his family. All six of them were present, Cooper, Harris and Isaiah practicing with throwing axes and Hagman helping Perkins fletch arrows. Among them worked dozens of dwarves, manning the bellows, hammering metal or repairing tools.

“M’lord, M’lady.” Their captain, Harper said, noticing Ned and Sylvie had arrived. Harper was a big bastard, almost as big as Ned, with short black curly hair.

“Hello, Harper.” Ned greeted him. “Getting your armour fixed?”

“Aye, big fuckin’ Tarly mounted knight knocked me off my feet with a maul. The force of it ripped all the bindings in my breastplate, Dorrk’s fixin’ it good and proper.”

“Just once, could you boys not come back with big fuckkin’ holes in yer armour? I got better stuff to do!” Came a booming voice, from behind the forge. High forgemaster Dorrk came waddling out, he had the typical ashen grey skin of the dwarves. He was bald, with a huge beard of coarse black hair that reached his belt. He was carrying a round, light blue crystalline cuirass that faintly glowed with a cold light. There was a loud klang, as he dropped it at Harper’s feet.

“I can’t save it, the bindings are completely gone and can’t be reattached. I’ll have to make a whole fuckkin’ new one! You remember all the runes you had on it?” Then, he noticed Ned. “Ah! Ned! Sylvie!” He went over to greet them, “Lady Sylvie, your beauty could rival the finest gems mined from the northern mountains. It is like the very stars themselves hide away in your presence, for they know they will look dim in comparison.”

Sylvie smiled and curtsied to the dwarf, “You still want me to pose for you?” She said, with laugh. Dorrk had been asking Sylvie to pose for a statue carving for years. She always told him, “Soon, Dorrk”. Ned just knew she loved to tease people.

Dorrk made a show of acting shocked. “Ah! You wound me! You think I would only compliment you, so you would allow me the pleasure of capturing your beauty for future generations? For shame! Sylvie.” They were all chuckling around him, then he turned to Ned. “Ned, Ned my old friend, Could you tell these fools that I don’t have the material or the time to remake all their armour after every battle.” He indicated to the chosen men “Then, can you tell Sylvie that the greatest stone carvers of the North would have killed for a chance to carve a statue of her.”

Ned looked from Dorrk, to Sylvie, to the chosen men, “What he said.” The group laughed together some more. Then a messenger called Ned to a meeting with the rebel leaders.

Ned got to the main hall where they were looking over maps, seemingly having an animated discussion.

“We need to run the fuckers down!” Robert asserted, lightning crackling along his hammer, Foebreaker, thunder rumbling in the background. “With our combined forces, we can crush them! Right now, they’re pillaging my kingdom. We need to stop them before all of my armies abandon us.”

“How many have left us so far?” Jon asked, carefully judging the distance between Harrenhal and King’s Landing.

“Eight thousand, maybe more.” Robert grumbled morosely, taking a goblet of wine and taking a swig.

Ned put a hand on his friend’s shoulder “Perhaps not right now, Robert.” He looked at Ned, then put the goblet down. “I think, if we move fast, we could get to King’s Landing.”

“Perhaps…If we take king’s Landing, we can force the Tyrells into surrender.” Hoster said, “But we have the combined forces of four kingdoms with us, they will be slow.”

“Maybe split our forces?” Robert suggested, “Jon and I could lead one force to take back the Stormlands.” He took hold of the stag and falcon models, moving them into the Stormlands, towards the rose model. The he grabbed the wolf and trout, moving them to the dragon. “Ned and Hoster can lead the rest to take King’s Landing.” Hoster seemed amenable to the idea.

“No.” Ned responded. “We have only two dragons, they have Targaryen, Tyrell and Velaryon dragons. If we split up, they will be more vulnerable.”

“I agree with Ned,” Jon added, “Our strength is with each other, we just need to decide where to go.”

Ned began to place more dragon pieces on the board. “My scouts tell us the Targaryens have another army, amassing somewhere near King’s Landing. We can either wait for them here and defend from a castle.” He moved their armies to Harrenhal, “Or we can sally forth and take them in a pincer movement.”

Before they could discuss further, a brown-skinned Child of the Forest, with moss green hair burst into the room. “Sorry to disturb, my lords.” He said. “But the wargs have reported a massive host, lead by lord Connington coming from the south. Seems they have Velaryon dragons too.”

“So the Mad king has sent his hand to die.” Robert said with a smile as he gripped his hammer.

“Robert and I will mount our dragons,” Ned said, as they all left the room together “we’ll soften them up and give you time to get our troops in order.”

 

—————————

 

Were it not for the fighting and the death, Ned would be having a nice time, flying on Snowsong in the morning. However, Ned was in a battle and he had to do his part. There was a certain amount of detachment when flying on a dragon above the armies below, it was very disconcerting. He could deal out death so easily, and the people on the ground could barely touch him. All they could do was run and hope the dragon didn’t aim for them.

Ned could see Robert having the time of his life, flying on his dragon, laughing as he threw his hammer at people below and summoned it back. Sometimes, I can’t understand you, He thought. Working with Robert, they had been able to see off the enemy dragons, though both Stormbreaker and Snowsong had been wounded and would need time to recover after the battle.

He noticed a Mooton banner, leading the royalist charge into a Dwarven line of pikes. You stupid fools… Ned thought. After their unsuccessful charge, Ned boxed them in with a wall of ice from Snowsong’s breath. They would have to surrender, or die. It was a tried and true method of the ice dragons. Use their breath to form walls around your opponent, leaving only one way out, then squeeze them with your own forces.

A horn caught Ned’s attention, it was the Winter wolves, they had broken the left flank. “Good lads-aggh!” The world took a sudden shift as Snowsong cried out under him. An unknown force knocked the wind out of him and sent him falling from Snowsong. He could see bolts of magical energy, arcing through the sky after Snowsong. Fucking magic! Ned thought as he fell.

The ground hit him about as hard as one would expect.

When Ned came to, he tasted blood, the world was spinning. He got up on unsteady feet and saw he was surrounded by war beasts, direwolves, bears, unicorns and the like. They were tearing the enemies around him apart. Ned saw the red mist and charged towards the enemy, he didn’t quite know where they were, but he was coming for them.

The first man got frozen solid by a blast of cold, the second got empaled by ice spikes Ned created. He threw Ice at another man-at-arms running at him, the sword cut through him like a knife through butter, sailing through the air and ending in the back of another man behind him. Then, three knights in full plate were yelling and charging at him all at once, their weapons raised to strike him down. Ned called Ice to his hand, the glowing blue ice layer forming around the blade, making it much bigger. Ned’s eyes turned from dark grey, to glowing blue, the eyes of an Other. Wordless, he swung the blade in a wide arc, cutting the three of them in half before they had time to react.

In the chaos, Ned tried to get his bearings again, before he was knocked down by a blast of light. Ned’s right ear was ringing as he looked up and saw a big warrior priest of the seven, standing over him, with his golden war hammer held aloft.

“Thank the Father for delivering you to me! Thank the Warrior, for giving me the strength to smite you! Thank the Stranger for carrying you from this mortal realm!” The priest swung his hammer down, just missing Ned’s head as he rolled to the side. He quickly froze a rising ice pillar into the ground, to push himself up. The priest swung again, this time hitting the pillar, smashing it to pieces.

Ned saw an opening and thrust Ice through his armoured stomach and out his back. “Your Stranger can have me, when he earns me!” He growled into the priests ear as he died.

Ned could feel his heart getting faster and faster, he looked down and saw the warrior priest had stuck a knife in the gap of his armpit. Ned grabbed the blade and wrenched it out, it glowed and shimmered, showing its enchantment. A red river of blood flowed freely from his side. His vision blurred, the ringing in his ears got louder, the noises of the battlefield died away and he suddenly felt every bone in his body breaking.

He fell to the ground with a cry. Not now, NOT NOW!! He could feel his vision expanding greatly, his hearing and smell more acute. His heart, thundering like the hooves of a stampeding horse. Ned looked to his hands and saw they were growing bigger, with fearsome claws, covered in coarse black fur. Ned let out a pained cry that became a loud howl, the sound seemed to fill the world. Men stopped fighting around him, entranced by the horror occurring in front of them. His body was shifting, changing, seemingly collapsing in on itself, then expanding rapidly.

Until, where once there stood man, now was there a monster from the depths of hell.

An eight and a half foot tall wolf-man creature, much bigger than a regular werewolf. With fur black as the night, teeth as long as daggers and glowing blue eyes.

Some brave soul threw a long spear at it.

The beast didn’t even flinch when it pierced his hide, the spear tip seeming to dissolve in its blood.

The men around it screamed, shat themselves and ran.

They didn’t run fast enough…

 

—————————

 

When Ned awoke, he found himself in a clearing, with Fang licking his face. All of Ned’s body felt sore, like he had just after he took the trial of winter. That must have been a stress induced transformation, Ned surmised. Cregan’s book had warned him about such things. He managed to pull himself up and saw that he was naked and covered in blood. Thankfully, none of it seemed to be his, even the stab wound he should have had in his side was gone. Fang sat down next to him, looking at Ned as if he expected him to explain what he was doing out here.

Where the fuck am I? He asked himself, looking around and seeing trees, a river and a line of bloody body parts and viscera that, presumably, lead back to the battlefield. He washed himself in the river and summoned Ice to him. The blade flew to his hand at great speed.

Ned mounted his direwolf and set off for Harrenhal. If we won, our forces will be back there, if we lost… But Ned wouldn’t think about that right now. He could sense Snowsong was well, she was curled up with Stormbreaker in the ruins of one of the towers. Ned wouldn’t be surprised if she laid a few eggs in the future. When he got to Harrenhal, he saw Sylvie standing at the entrance to the camp, smiling at him while holding a cloak.

“Wargs saw you.” She explained. “While I would prefer you naked, have this.” She joked, while giving him to cloak to cover himself with.

“I take it we won.” Ned said as he wrapped himself up.

“The Hand’s forces were forced into retreat. We came out of it bloodied, but we won.” She smiled. “In no small part thanks to the unstoppable, massive werewolf that rampaged through their back lines, scaring the shit out of everyone…” she paused, looking at him inquisitively “Do you remember any of it?”

“Not really.” Ned responded, “I imagine I should talk to the others. But perhaps I should get dressed first.”

“I wouldn’t say you needed to.” She laughed.

 

—————————

 

After a hearty welcome from Jon and Robert, Ned joined the feast that the rebels were having in celebration of their victory. All Harrenhal was alight with the sounds of feasting laughter and fucking. Ned had noticed there was nothing that got men and women fucking so much as near death experiences on a near constant basis.

He had made sure to visit all of his lords, the chosen men and captains of the Winter Wolves, toasting them all and thanking them for their deeds in battle. As Ned walked through Harrenhal, he saw camp followers walking around, making their money from the happy soldiers. He saw more than a few of the captured ladies of the Reach getting boisterous with knights and soldiers alike.

Seems they’ve taken after their Lady, Ned mused.

Children of the Forest were dancing naked but for some leafy coverings around bonfires in celebration of their triumph, sharing drinks and moments of passion with anyone close by. Eventually, as Ned was well into his cups, drinking ale and toasting the group of Ryswell men-at-arms he was drinking with, he saw Sylvie.

She was beautiful, wearing a practically see-through white dress, her feet were bare, her hair loose, falling in a crimson cascade down her back. She was walking straight towards him, holding a goblet of clear water with two hands. She offered it so him and he drank deeply, before kissing her roughly.

“I want you…” he growled, the wolfsblood running hot in his veins.

“Then you will have me, my Prince.” She said, with a knowing smile. “Follow me…” she lead him by the hand to the castle godswood. Where he had fucked Ashara and Elia. Only this time, Alerie Tyrell and Anna Henrietta were there instead, clad in the same garb as Sylvie.

“Where are your good-sisters?” Ned asked Alerie.

“We went looking for them, my Prince.” She said as she bowed her head, Always so submissive. “We found them in the forge…”

“Mina and Janna are with Dorrk and the rest of the smithy dwarves.” Sylvie cut in. “They seemed quite…attached to them.”

“Well,” Ned laughed, “they’re going to have work hard tomorrow, I think we can let them enjoy the lasses for a bit.” Ned looked the three women up and down. “Besides, the three of you should be able to compensate.”

Ned regarded the three beautiful women, in their see-through dresses, their hair loose. He watched their large breasts rise and fall with every breath as they stood, ready for his inspection. He could smell their arousal already.

Ned almost pitied Alerie, in most other groups of women, she would be the most attractive, with the best breasts. But, next to Sylvie’s and Anna’s perfect mammaries...She just couldn’t compete, he was pretty sure only Catelyn and Ashara could.
  
“Come here…” he ordered the women, stripping out of his shirt and breeches, standing naked in the godswood.
 
They immediately got on their hands an knees, crawling over to him. Once they were close enough, Ned took hold of them and positioned the women to face each other around his cock. All three women were looking between each other and his hard cock. Their large breasts were pushed up against each other as they embraced, their lips were inches away from his throbbing meat. Sylvie marvelled at the two southern ladies being completely dominated by the Stark of Starks.
 
Sylvie was on one side of his cock, Alerie and Anna were on the other. Ned thrust his thick cock between their mouths, pushing their heads together. Back and forth his hips went, his cock sliding between them as they sucked and licked his cock as much as they could.
 
"Come now, I expect better from you." Ned groaned as their tongues caressed his cock, their lips sealed to his shaft. They massaged him with their mouths as he moved them along his full length, from root, to head and back again.
 
Sylvie slobbered over his cock, coating it with her spit, knowing the women would need all the lubrication they could get. Alerie seemed to have the same idea as her, but she took the other side of Ned’s cock. Anna took to initiative, beginning to lick lower, sucking on Ned’s balls, breathing in his musk.
 
Alerie stuck her tongue out as Ned moved his cock head with force between her and Sylvie, Anna sucking his balls. Ned’s cock throbbed between the three women, as they moaned whorishly, lubricating his cock to the best of their ability. Sylvie wantonly sucked and licked his meat as Alerie hummed around it and Anna lavished his balls with her tongue as if they were the best thing she had ever tasted.
 
Under the assault of the three women Ned could feel his end fast approaching, he took Sylvie’s head and fully sheathed his cock into her throat, as she moaned. Ned could hear the sounds of her choking as he thrust deep into her throat. Alerie could only watch, in awe of the Child of the Forest, as her lips stretched around Ned’s massive cock and her cousin sucked his balls.
 
“Don’t worry, Alerie your time will come.” Ned panted, in the exertion of throat fucking Sylvie. “and don’t think i’ve forgotten you Anna.” he added. Alerie could only bit her lip, fidgeting with herself. Anna whorishly moaned in appreciation. Both the Reacher noblewomen’s cunts trembled in anticipation.
 
“UGGGH-MMPPPH!!” Sylvie moaned lovingly, as her slurping got louder and messier.
 
“Oof, you’re good, Sylvie.” Ned chuckled, pulling her face to the base of his cock, holding her there, her lips sealed around him. Anna pulled away from Ned’s balls to watch what was happening.
 
Sylvie whimpered and choked as the southern women watched Ned empty himself down her throat. Sylvie’s neck bulged as Ned’s massive cock pulsated against the walls of her throat, emptying his seed directly into the lovely Child of the Forest.
 
Ned sighed contentedly, then rested his hand on the back of Sylvie’s head, threading his fingers through her dark red locks as her eyes were somewhat dazed when he finished started to water, she spluttered around his cock. She choked and squirmed, but she stayed fully sheathed on his length as Ned watched her. Sylvie’s tongue slid out beneath his cock, tickling his ball sack as she twitched, desperate for air.
 
“Gods be good...” Anna spoke as she put a hand on the pale green expanse of Sylvie’s. “She must have been taking your cock for years.” Alerie noted, regarding Sylvie’s skill at servicing Ned. 

“That’s it, take him all in.” Anna said, encouragingly.
 
After Sylvie shot off Ned’s cock, she smiled weakly up at him. “…Did I please you, Stark of Starks?”

“Excellent as ever.” Ned said, as Anna pulled Sylvie into a deep kiss as she grabbed Ned’s cock with one hand.
 
“Did you enjoy your meal?” Ned asked, cock throbbing as he saw the two women kissing.
 
“Yes, Stark of Starks…” she moaned as she pulled apart from Anna, Ned caressing her hair before he moved her aside. She pouted as Ned turned his cock towards the southern women. Brushing their lips with his tip as they gazed up at him in awe.

Their heads kept up a quick tempo, each going up and down his shaft, getting all the way down and back to the tip as Ned sighed contentedly. As one went down his cock, the other went up. Occasionally, they met at his head and made out around the tip of his cock, tasting each other and Sylvie on it. Their lips danced around his cock head, making love to it with their tongues.
 
Ned turned his attention to Sylvie, who had stripped out of her dress, baring her toned body to his gaze. His shaft throbbing in Anna and Alerie’s mouths as they continued, unabated. Ned licked his lips as Sylvie shivered, then rested his hands on Anna and Alerie’s heads.

He pulled their heads back and angled them up to him. “Open wide!” Ned ordered as he emptied himself all over their faces and cleavage. He shot a few ropes their mouths, they eagerly swallowed his thick seed.

“Fuck!” Ned sighed as he deposited the last of his seed on the southern women’s faces. They were both completely covered. Ned pushed their heads together, making them taste his seed on each other’s tongues. After a while, he pulled them apart, their large breasts rising and falling in their cleavage as they panted. With a loud pat, Ned slapped his wet cock on Alerie’s face.

“Go get us some wine.” He ordered. She began to wipe his seed of her face, “No! You’ll go out there marked by me.” Alerie trembled under Ned’s withering gaze, before the Lady of Highdarden got up and left the godswood, still covered in Ned’s seed.
   
“Now, you two, get back to work.” Ned ordered, gripping Sylvie’s hair, pulling her to join Anna on his cock. The two women wantonly sucking and moaning on his cock. Ned ripped Anna’s dress, showing her gorgeous body to the world, so he could grope both women’s breasts at the same time. After a while, a naked Alerie came back to them, with a skin of wine.

“What happened to you?” Ned laughed, admiring the bounce of her breasts.

“They thought I was a whore,” she began, standing awkwardly as she watched Ned getting fellated. “The soldiers said they’d only give me the wine, if I gave them my dress. I had to walk naked all the way back here.”

“Lucky them.” Ned laughed in response. He pulled Anna and Sylvie off him, before lying down next to the Weirwood.
 
“Come here and sit on my face Alerie.” Ned fixed her with his cold eyes, putting Sylvie and Anna back to slurping his cock. She quickly walked over to him, spun around and lay herself on top of him, her cunt just inches from his mouth.
 
Alerie moaned and twitched as Ned began to squeeze her arse cheeks, spreading them further apart. She shuddered with Ned’s cock in her mouth as he pushed his tongue into her cunt, Sylvie and Anna gazing up into her eyes with their mouths full of Ned’s testicles, slurping noisily as they drooled all over them. Sylvie had a mischievous look in her eyes as she left Ned’s balls, licking lower until the tip of her tongue drove into Ned’s arsehole.
 
“Well aren’t you an overachiever, Sylvie.” Ned laughed as he gave Alerie a few spanks, turning her arse red as she moaned around his dock.
 
 “It seems she has much more experience at be a whore, cousin.” Anna chuckled, then yelped when she felt Sylvie’s hand strike her arse cheeks a few times, then she moaned when Sylvie stuck a finger in her arse.

“Anna, seeing as you say you lack experience in whoring, i’d say it’s time I gave you another lesson.” Ned growled, moving Alerie off him and standing up. He pulled Anna off his balls, pulling her up to him as he leaned against the Weirwood. Her large breasts bouncing as she was manhandled by the northerner. Sylvie practically tackled Alerie onto the soft grass, dominating the Lady of Highgarden’s mouth with her own, as she stuffed three fingers in her cunt.
 
Ned studied Anna Henrietta’s gorgeous face, her high cheekbones, her plump lips, her dazzling eyes, all framed beautifully by her luscious, golden brown tresses. He looked further down at her very large breasts, capped with large, pink nipples. Further still, passed her soft belly, to the patch of golden curls above her cunt. He could hear Alerie moaning as she pressed her arse back against Sylvie like a bitch in heat.
 
“Turn around.” Ned ordered Anna, she did as she was told and turned, revealing her soft arse. It wasn’t as toned as Sylvie’s, or as thick as Ashara’s or Elia’s, or as massive and fleshy as Catelyn’s, but it was certainly fun to fuck.

“Show me your arsehole.” Ned commanded. Anna arched her back, cocked her hips up to Ned, put her hands on her large arse cheeks and spread them for him. She even bent over, presenting herself to Ned’s eye, even more. Ned could smell her arousal, dripping down her thighs. Ned scooped her up into his arms, lifting her feet up to her head as his hands curled around the back of her neck. He held her in place for a few seconds, Anna trembling as her eyes locked onto his massive cock.
 
“HAHH AHHH FUCK!” Lady Henrietta screamed as Ned lowered her arsehole onto his thick cock. Her eyes rolled back as she jiggled and wiggled in his arms. Ned gripped one of her breasts, pinching her nipple as he began to thrust inside her arse faster and faster, eliciting more moans and squeals from the noble woman.
 
“SOO FUCKING GOOD!!” Anna cried she squirted from being rammed up the arse. Quivering and whimpering as Ned slammed into her, all strength leaving her body. Sylvie and Alerie untangled themselves from each other and crawled over to them. They both began sucking on his balls, coaxing his seed from them, both breathing in the heady sent of Anna Henrietta’s cunt. Ned could feel her arsehole tighten around him again, he started to give her a series of hard shallow thrusts.
 
“AAARGHH!! FUCK!!! FU-FHUGHHHHAAAAH!!!!!! UUUUGHHHH!!!!!!!!” Anna howled as wave after wave of her climax rippled through her entire being. Her large breasts bounced and quivered as she covered Sylvie’s and Alerie’s faces in her pleasure. Ned could feel her lose all resistance as she lost consciousness, her head flopping forward.
 
Her screams of pleasure echoed throughout the godswood, probably the rest of Harrenhal too. Ned thrust harder and faster, chasing his own end. He repeatedly slammed her body onto his cock, Anna was powerless to oppose him as he emptied himself into her arse.
 
They looked up at Ned in awe as his cock pulsed inside Anna’s arse, then dropped her comatose body onto the ground. She flopped down onto the ground with a thud. Suddenly, Ned threw Alerie towards Anna, forcing her face into Anna’s arsehole, she started licking Ned’s seed instinctively.
 
Alerie moaned into Anna’s arse as she felt Ned’s length fill her cunt completely. Ned wrapped his hand around her neck, squeezing, to cut off her air supply. Then Ned, moved her off Anna’s arse and onto Sylvie’s cunt, who lay down next to her. She squealed into Sylvie’s cunt, her eyes watering as her vision went dark, Ned started smacking her arse again and again, drawing her ever closer to her end. Ned saw Sylvie, pull Alerie’s head up by her hair and slap her across the face a few times. That’ll do it… Ned thought, as he felt her cunt flutter around him. Alerie was brought to a shivering climax again.
 
Her screams were muffled as Ned pushed her deeper onto Sylvie and ploughed her even harder, drawing her end out even longer.
 
“I’M GOING TO FILL YOU, YOU SOUTHERN WHORE!!!” Ned roared as he thrust inside her cunt a final time. The lack of air and the pleasure was too much for Alerie, she still shook, even as she lost consciousness. The last thing she heard was Ned telling Sylvie to lie on top of her so he could fuck her too.

“By you command, Stark of Starks…” Sylvie giggled as he climbed on top of the quivering Alerie. Loud smacks echoed throughout the godswood as Ned swatted her toned, green arse, earning whimpers and moans from the Child of the Forest. She acted like a bitch in heat, so Ned was going to fuck her like one. He pushed his cock deep inside her, making her cry out in pleasure. Ned’s fingers working to draw out ever ounce of pleasure her body could give.

“OHHHH…FUCKKK…N-N-NED!!” Sylvie screamed

The deeper that Ned thrust, the harder Sylvie screamed and gripped Alerie, who lay beneath her. Ned grabbed onto her dark-red locks as he fucked her from behind. The prince ploughed her hard as she shook around him, trying to milk his cock for all it was worth.

"What was it, you said about the Right of Continuation?" he asked, panting into her long, pointed ear as he took his bitch like a wolf.

"I WANT-UGHH! I NEEEED YOU TO BREED ME!!" Sylvie screamed, trying to thrust her arse back into him as she completely lost herself to her passion.

Ned pressed his thumb into Sylvie’s arsehole. Ned’s hard thrusting rewarded him with the sight of Sylvie coming to a magnificent end on his cock, her cunt shivered around him as her release leaked onto Alerie’s arse. She collapsed on top of Alerie, prone.

Sylvie closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of Stark cock filling her cunt. Ned watched her arse ripple as he fucked her prone form on top of Alerie.

"I think this might just be the first time I fucked you on top of someone." Ned panted, pressing his mouth to her ear as he thrust inside her.

“No…there was…that time with the…Ryswell girl.” Sylvie responded, pushing back onto him.

Ned grinned at the memory, then leaned in and fucked Sylvie harder. His balls slapped against her cunt, the deeper he went, the more her cunt drew him in.

"Oooh… Gods, yes! STRETCH ME OUT STARK OF STARKS! FILL ME WITH YOUR SEED!" She screamed as Ned worked deeper and deeper into her cunt with each plunging motion. Again, Ned felt the familiar pressure building within him. His thrusts gained speed and force, causing Sylvie’s wails to climb higher and higher.

He thrust into Sylvie until he felt his balls tighten, he thrust himself deep inside her, all the way up to the hilt, filling her to the brim.

“Aghhhh… Fuck! Take it, Whore! Take it ALL!!” Ned roared.

“AGH-AHHHH! FUCKING BREED ME!! SEED! YOUR! WHORE!!!” Cried Sylvie in response. She clenched around Ned’s throbbing shaft, quaking and spasming on top of Alerie as her mind turned to white noise.

Ned stayed inside her for a time, making sure to fill her completely, before pulling his softening member from her, a river of his seed flowing out of her. He fell beside the comatose women, as they spasmed and twitched in pleasure. He gazed up at the stars as he heard the celebrations dying down in the rest of the castle.

He stretched out in the cool grass and allowed sleep to take him.

Allow yourself the pleasures, life offers you, Ned thought. For tomorrow, we may all die…

Notes:

And that’s the next instalment! I feel I could have given the forge scene and the battle scene a few more passes, but I got a lot of comments asking for updates, so I thought why not. Hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 8: Chapter 6

This is it, Ned thought. If we can win here, the war is as good as won.

 

The rebels had retreated from Harrenhal when their scouts had reported two royalist armies making their way to them. They had the choice to either stay and be surrounded on all sides, confined to the castle, or they could tactically retreat to the Trident, forcing both of the royalist armies to reposition and attack from the same direction. Hoster Tully had made a good point about using the waters of the Trident to help shield their troops from enemy dragon fire. It also provided a lot of water for the Riverlander hydromancers.

 

The mood among the rebels was tense. Thankfully, Ned had an amazing source of stress relief available.

 

Ned had savagely fucked Alerie, Anna and the Tyrell sisters harder than ever before, as he was getting ready for the coming battle. He made sure to spend himself in every hole they offered him. He had thought about including Sylvie, but she would need her strength. The Reacher women were probably still quivering on his bed, back at camp, his seed still leaking from their mouths, cunts and arses.

 

The royalist forces were Riverlanders and Stormlanders who were loyal to the king, Reachmen sent by Mace Tyrell, Crownlanders and the Dornish. To hear the scouts tell it, they outnumbered the rebels by a fair margin and had four dragons, against Ned and Robert’s two.

 

It would be a hard fought battle, but the winners would decide the fate of Westeros. Flying on Snowsong, Ned could see the enemy armies in the distance, hearing the sound of their horns and the roars of their dragons.

 

 

—————————

 

 

The armies clashed together on the trident, a maelstrom of flesh and steel as the northern pipes played in the background.

 

Ned could see explosions of magic on the ground, from both sides. Small tidal waves knocking men down and sweeping them away. Giants were swinging boulders that had been chained together into the mass of men, obliterating all in their path. War beasts were tearing through anyone they came across. Ned wanted to help his men, but found himself in a battle for his life against two Velaryon dragons he recognised as Leviathan and Seawing. Robert had urged Stormbreaker right into Veraxys, Rhaegar’s dragon. The two were now fighting a vicious fight to the death.

 

Gyl Galaed, the fourth royalist dragon had been empaled by two arrows from Giant’s greatbows, sending both dragon and rider falling to the ground. Ned was trying to draw the Velaryon dragons to the Giants, giving their archers opportunity to fill the dragons with arrows. But, the Velaryon dragons were fast and Ned knew the Giants would never loose an arrow if it had a chance to hit him.

Snowsong sent forth a massive blast of cold, trying to freeze her enemies. It caught Seawing right in the chest and wing, sending the dragon flying away, clearly weakened and dropping altitude due to one wing being weighed down by ice. Leviathan was made of sterner stuff, Lord Lucerys Velaryon’s dragon was older than Ned’s, but not quite a big.

 

Leviathan slammed into Snowsong, she cried out as Ned felt one of her ribs break. The impact of the two dragons clearly loosened the bindings on Lord Velaryon, who began to slide off his dragon. I can survive that fall, Ned judged, before leaping from Snowsong as the dragons battled and tackling the Velaryon off his saddle.

 

As he fell, Ned could see the two dragons break apart and clash again, before Snowsong raked her long horns along Leviathans side. Riderless dragons very rarely fought to the death, so Leviathan fled, with Snowsong giving chase.

 

Lucerys felt the impact of the ground a lot harder than Ned did, but Ned certainly felt it.

 

I really need to stop doing that, Ned thought as he heard a sickening crunch before he rolled off the broken corpse of the Velaryon lord. They had landed in the shallows on the rebel side of the lines. He saw Lord Mance Ryder rushing to his side to help him up.

 

“Are you hurt, Stark!?” He shouted, over the deafening sound of the battle.

 

“No!” Ned responded, “Tell Sylvie to bring her archers up! And get word to Lord Hoster! Tell him we need to advance! They’ve lost three dragons! We need to push our advantage!” Ned gave his orders and called for Fang, who burst from the fray covered in blood, a disembodied arm in his maw as his tail wagged happily. Ned mounted him and set off towards the enemy, Ice raised, ready to kill.

 

Riding a Direwolf was unlike riding any other creature, there was a smoothness to it’s movements and it never slowed down. Men, Trolls, beasts, all fled before Fang and Ned. They weren’t a threat to an adult Direwolf like Fang, who stood as large and as heavy as a bison and twice as strong. His hide was tougher than chainmail, but he was also appropriately armoured, covered in padding and enchanted Uru, he was impervious to most attacks.

 

As Ned carved his way through the enemy, slashing this way and that, he heard a monstrous roar. He looked up and saw that Stormbreaker had torn off Veraxys’ head, sending dragon and rider to land in the deeper water in the middle of the trident.

 

Ned instantly urged Fang to the corpse, as Robert landed Stormbreaker. From his position on Fang, Ned could see Rhaegar get up on shaky legs, one hand clutching Darksister, ebony shadows dancing along its length, in the other, he held a shield with the sigil of house Targaryen.

 

Robert dismounted Stormbreaker, sending him to attack the rest of the royalist forces. Swinging Foebreaker, he struck Rhaegar with a blow that would turn a normal man into a mess of bloody flesh and shattered bone. But Rhaegar had been enhanced with Valyrian magic, so it just sent him flying back into Veraxys’ corpse, rubies flying free from his black armour.

 

As Fang leaped over a Massey shield wall, Ned saw a flash of pure, glowing white making it’s way to Robert and Rhaegar. Targaryens, have to fight their own battles today… Ned thought, as he charged Fang at the Kingsguard.

 

They clashed together, Fang ripping into his horse as both men were thrown from their mounts. They quickly rose and faced each other. Barristan the Bold… Fuck! Ned raised Ice to his opponent.

 

“Get out of my way, Stark!” Barristan ordered.

 

“I don’t think I will.” Ned growled in response, the battle seemed to die away around them, like the world was taking one last breath, before the plunge.

 

A mournful look fell on Barristan’s features, “I am… truly sorry, for what happened to your family.” He said, “I’ll convince Rhaegar to give you clemency when… all this is done.” He raised his sword.

 

Ned’s eyes shone blue as ice covered his sword. “I would rather he give me Lyanna… Ser.”

 

With that, their blades crashed together. The Trial of Winter had enhanced Ned to well beyond what should be possible for a man, he had wondered how it would measure up against a Kingsguard’s enhancements. Now he would get his answer.

 

Fuck! He’s fast! Ned thought as Barristan put him on the back foot, trying overwhelm him, get inside his range and use his greatsword’s length against him. However, Ned would not be an easy foe.

 

He slammed Ice’s hilt against Barristan’s helmet, sending the older man backwards. Then, he swung Ice upwards, the metal of Barristan’s armour sang, sparks flying as Ice carved a deep groove along his breastplate. It seemed they were of equal match, though Ned was not using his ice magic.

 

They traded blows and parry’s in thigh deep water.

 

Barristan would swing low, Ned would counter and riposte, Barristan would dodge and thrust. Fang was clearing a path for them, as they made their way closer to Robert and Rhaegar. Eventually, tired and sweating, Ned found an opening, catching Barristan in the thigh with Ice, sending the knight to his knees.

 

“Yield, Ser.” Ned panted, levelling Ice with Barristan’s neck. Barristan clutched to his leg, his blood turning his white armour red.

 

“I’m afraid… I can’t accept your surrender at this time, Stark.” He said, lifting his heavily damaged sword to meet Ice.

 

A loud shout gripped their attention, Robert had taken Darksister from Rhaegar and used it to empale him to the ground, through Rhaegar’s pelvis. Rhaegar was thrashing under the surface of the water, unable to breath as he bled to death.

 

“No!” Barristan shouted, rushing to Rhaegar, before Ned knocked out the distracted Kingsguard. He pulled Barristan out of the water, so he wouldn’t drown.

 

After a minute, Rhaegar stoped thrashing, either from drowning or from being stabbed in the pelvis.

Ned went to Robert and cut off Rhaegar’s head with Ice, holding it aloft with a howl of victory.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Upon seeing their Prince had been slain, the royal army fled. Both Robert and Jon had been injured, not terribly, but it would stop them from riding quickly. So, they had sent Ned ahead, commanding the rebel forces to take Kings Landing. Most seemed to think that the death of Rhaegar meant the war was already won, but Ned knew better.

 

They still have dragons, Ned thought, and Kings Landing has never fallen. Aerys still had enough strength to make a fight out of it. Snowsong was healing from her wounds, but she was flying slower than usual. Ned gave her a few pats of encouragement. Good girl, not lost a fight in the entire war so far.

 

In the distance, Ned could see Kings Landing, they were making good time. Ned was starting to relax…until he saw smoke rising from the city. He reached for his horn and gave it three short blasts, telling his forces to start marching quicker. Doubtless, scouts were seeing the smoke too. The northern mounted forces started rushing to Kings Landing, as Ned flew above them.

 

When they got to the nearest gate, Ned landed next to his troops. He saw a Marband banner alongside a Lannister lion. “What’s happening here!?” Ned shouted to the sentries on top of the wall.

 

“We’ve taken the city for you m’lord!” One of them responded.

 

So Lord Tywin has finally chosen a side after all, Ned thought. Shame he only did it when it was clear who would win. “You’re sacking the city! Send word to Lord Tywin, tell him we’re here and he must put a stop to this!” Ned ordered.

 

“Can’t do nuthin’ to stop it now m’lord. The boys is plunderin’”

 

Fuck.

 

Ned began to pass out orders. “Mance! Take the cavalry and the Winter Wolves and stop the Lannisters from sacking the city. If you can’t get Tywin Lannister to get his men in order, do it yourself.”

 

“Yes, my Prince.” Mance responded.

 

“Ice guard! Chosen men! We’re going to secure the Red Keep!” Ned shouted, before telling Snowsong to launch into the air.

 

Above the city, Ned had a clear view of what was happening. He could see that the dragon pit had been stormed and there were two young dragons fighting Lannister forces, another dragon corpse lay in the square. Where Aerys’ dragon, Cannibal was, he could not see.

 

As he flew closer to the Red Keep, his enhanced eyes could see men had scaled the walls and were climbing into Maegor’s holdfast… Elia! Ned hurried Snowsong to land in the Red Keep’s main courtyard, where he finally found Cannibal.

 

The once great dragon was now as frail and weak as it’s rider. In the past, he had grown to be as big as Balerion the Black Dread, now he could not even fly. The old dragon roared and snapped at Snowsong like a wounded animal. Breathing short bursts of bright green fire, and it could barely muster that.

 

What happened next could barely be called a battle: Snowsong landed next to Cannibal and stuck her three, long horns into his chest, killing the old dragon instantly. The corpse of the dragon fell to the ground, with one last whimper. The sight almost made Ned sad, before he remembered what he was supposed to do.

 

Snowsong knocked down the gates, allowing Fang to enter the courtyard. Of course, the Ice Guard and Chosen men couldn’t hope to be as fast as a direwolf. “Only northerners allowed.” Ned said to Snowsong, before rushing into the keep.

 

Amongst all the smells of the castle, he picked out Elia and followed her familiar sent. Only a few guards tried to stop them, Ned and Fang easily dealt with them. They carried on until they got to the royal apartments, coming across already dead guards.

 

They started running quicker, following the scent. They were getting close when Ned heard a loud crunch and a scream that would haunt him till the day he died. He burst into the closest room and witnessed a horror. A man as large as an Umber held the bloody remains of a baby in his hand, standing in front of a screaming and crying Elia, who had a black eye and a half torn off dress. Ned could sense there was another man in the next room, trying to get Elia’s other child.

 

“Leave her be!” Ned roared as Fang rushed passed him and into the other room.

 

The big man turned around to face Ned, then threw the child corpse at him and charged. Ned dodged and hamstrung the man with Ice. He heard cries from the other room as Fang dragged a man out by his leg. Ned made an end of both men quickly.

 

Afterwards, he rushed to Elia’s side, trying to stop her from looking at what had been her son. “You’re safe now, Elia.” He said. Yes, like that’ll help. “I’m going to move you into the bedroom now, to Rhaenys.” Ned tried to assure her.

 

That got her attention. “R-R-Rhaenys!!” She screamed, stumbling into the other room.

 

“She’s under the bed.” Ned said, they managed to get her out. The poor girl was crying as much as Elia, clutching a small black kitten that seemed to be as scared as it’s owner. Mother and daughter held each other and sobbed uncontrollably.

 

“I’ll protect you, you’re safe now…” Ned tried to assure them, to no response. Ned couldn’t blame them. There were times during this war, when he had wanted to just sit and cry.

 

“Ned!” He heard from outside of the rooms. It was Howland and the Chosen men.

 

“Gods be good…” Harper said, seeing what had happened.

 

“There’s no gods bein’ good ‘ere.” Hagman responded, morosely, ripping his cloak off and covering the body of the babe.

 

“Lord Howland is a trusted friend of mine, he’s going to stay in the other room, here.” Ned said to Elia softly. “The Chosen men will be outside with Fang. They’ll all be able to protect you.” She still said nothing to him. He hoped she could at least hear him as he left. “Guard them.” Ned ordered his men.

 

“Where are you going?” Howland asked as Ned left.

 

“To get the Mad Bastard responsible for all this!” He answered.

 

The Quiet Wolf stalked the halls of the Red Keep alone, without a sound, his blood boiling. All the deaths of friends, of family, of innocents running through his mind.

 

Sometimes he came across Lannisters, sometimes Targaryen soldiers, all fell to Ice.

 

“WHERE IS HE!?!?” Ned roared at a guard who was unfortunate enough to get in his way. He held the man to the wall by his throat, Ice pointed at his belly.

 

Ned could smell the guard pissing himself as he stammered “H-he’s i-i-in the th-th-throne roo-oo-oom. P-p-p-lease… I sw-wear to the G-gods-“ Ned stabbed the guard in the gut and made his way to the throne room.

 

His blood was thundering in his ears, he could hear more of his forces entering the Red Keep from outside. Any people who crossed his path, quickly ran the other way. Ned got to the throne room doors, they were nearly as tall as the doors to the great hall in Winterfell.

 

He was so close, on the other side of that door lay revenge, justice for the deaths of his father and brother and all the others who had died in this pointless, ridiculous war.

 

“AERYS!!!!” Ned roared as he threw open the doors, his enhanced strength ripping them off their massive, iron hinges. They fell to the floor with a colossal crash, of splintering wood and broken floor tiles.

 

But then, Ned saw something he did not expect: A Kingsguard… Jaime Lannister was sitting on the Iron throne.

 

With Aerys lying dead on it’s steps…

 

 

—————————

 

 

Robert and Jon and arrived less than a day later. All three of the rebel leaders had met with Tywin. He had proudly proclaimed that he had delivered the city to them. Ned had been furious, he had demanded Tywin be brought to justice for his crimes and for Jaime to be sent to the Wall for killing Aerys at the last possible moment.

 

Would it have been impossible to kill him earlier? Before he murdered my father and brother? Ned had thought.

 

Robert and Jon had refused, so Ned had stormed off. Ned had been questioning the courtiers, looking for anyone who would know where Lyanna was when Harris had found him. “The Princess wants to speak with you, Ned.” He said.

 

“Then I shall.” Ned responded, beginning to make his way back to her chambers with Harris “How many guards do we have for her?”

 

“Well, there’s Fang, the Chosen men, Lord Reed and a dozen Winter Wolves.” Harris listed. “A couple of Lannisters tried to get passed us, but we saw them off quick.” That got a chuckle out of Ned.

 

When they arrived, Ned gently knocked on the door. “Come in.” He heard Elia’s voice from the other side, weak from all the sobbing. Ned opened the door and saw her and Rhaenys. She had gotten a new dress, to replace her ripped one. Rhaenys was sitting with the black kitten on her lap, cuddling it, tightly. “Thank you for coming, Ned.” She croaked. There was an awkward pause.

 

“I’m so sorry, Elia.” Ned blurted out, unsure what else to say.

 

She closed her good eye, “I do not blame you Ned…” she said. There was another pause, Ned saw her black eye had swollen shut.

 

“I can have a healer tend to your eye.” He offered.

 

“Thank you, Ned…” she replied, gingerly touching it. ”But I did not call you for that. I have two things to tell you, One: I secretly had your father’s and brother’s remains hidden and kept safe.”

 

Ned was taken aback by that, the thought of being able to put his family in the crypts of Winterfell, where they belonged, did sooth him. “The second:” Elia continued, “…Ser Arthur tried to stop Rhaegar, he’s in the black cells right now… He knows where Lyanna is…”

 

She barely had the time to finish the sentence before Ned ran from the room, faster than a wild stallion. Running through halls and corridors, down into the bowls of the Red Keep. Down, down, deeper and down, he went. Until he got to the dark, dank cells the crown threw people they wanted to forget.

 

“ARTHUR!” Ned shouted repeatedly.

 

Eventually, he heard a weak voice saying “Here…” behind the nearest cell door.

 

Ned shattered it in one blow. He conjured a ball of glowing, blue ice to light the area. He saw the chained form of Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning, his good-brother. Even chained and dirty as he was, there was a dignity to him. Ned could tell he was one of the deadliest warriors the seven kingdoms had ever known. Arthur attempted to shield himself from the light. He had Ashara’s eyes, Ned realised.

 

“Do you have any water?” He croaked.

 

“Here.” Ned said, creating a small piece of soft ice, handing it to Arthur.

 

“Thank you, friend.” He said, taking it gladly and crunching the ice in his mouth. ”I can’t tell much from my cell… but I think I heard the city being taken… Who are you?”

 

“I am your good-brother, Ser Arthur.” Ned said, kneeling down next to Arthur and freezing his chains, shattering them. “Where is Lyanna?”

 

Realisation seemed to dawn on Arthur as he got up on shaky legs. “Dorne.” He said, “the Tower of Joy, I can take you there.” They began to walk out of the cells. “What of the royal family?” He asked. Ned stopped in his tracks, apprehensive. “I told you of Lyanna…” Arthur warned.

 

“It seems Rhaella and Viserys are on Dragonstone…“ Ned began, as they continued walking up the winding staircase “Rhaegar and Aerys are dead…”.

 

“Elia? He children” Arthur pushed.

 

“Aegon was killed by Gregor Clegane when Tywin Lannister took the city. I suspect on his orders.”

 

“Bastard!” Arthur shouted, punching the wall in a fury, cracking the stone bricks.

 

“Elia and Rhaenys are in their rooms, under my protection. She’s the one who told me you were down here.” Ned continued. “You can see them before we go.”

 

That knowledge seemed to give Arthur some measure of relief. “Where is Clegane?” He finally asked, clearly planning to murder him.

 

“In the belly of my Direwolf.” Ned responded. “Like I said, I imagine Tywin sent him to kill Elia and her children. I stopped him before he could complete his task.”

 

“It seems Ashara chose well.” Arthur said.

 

A better man would have got to him before he could harm a babe.

 

They continued talking, Arthur told Ned that Rhaegar took Lyanna to fulfil some bizarre prophecy about ice and fire. It was madness.

 

“Madness indeed.” Arthur said, as they finally saw the sunlight again. “It seems Rhaegar was as mad as his father… I would like to see Elia, before we leave.”

 

“Of course,” Ned replied, “In my haste to find you, I forgot to ask her something.” When they returned to Elia’s rooms, it clearly relived her to see Arthur again. For the first time, Rhaenys didn’t look scared.

 

“I’m so sorry, Princess…” he said as she and Rhaenys took him in their arms. Ned allowed them to have this moment of calm.

 

“Thank you for telling me, Elia.” Ned said after a while.

 

She looked up at Ned with a sad smile. “Arthur, what Ned’s looking for is where Ashara and I used to go to…” she looked down at Rhaenys “have private time together. Please can you take him there.” Arthur looked from Elia to Ned, clearly a bit embarrassed. “I’ll be safe here.” She assured him. “Ned’s men will protect me. As will his wolf.”

 

“Follow me then, Prince Stark.” Arthur said, bowing to Elia and Rhaenys before leaving the room.

 

“Thank you…” Ned said again, before turning the leave.

 

“I hope that I can depend on you to keep Rhaenys and myself safe...” Ned heard over his shoulder, he turned back to Elia.

 

“Always.” He responded, walking out of the room.

 

Ned had called eight Ice Guard to follow him and Arthur to the remains of his father and brother. Arthur took them through many secret passageways, winding deep into the Red Keep again. Until they got to a room that had a bed, a hearth and a window in the wall that would give a lovely view of the sunrise on the sea. There were two medium sized wooden boxes in the middle of the room. Ned opened them easily, gazing on their remains.

 

In accordance with Stark burial tradition, he froze their remains in a block of permafrost. To be taken, by the Ice Guard, back to Winterfell. Where they could be properly interred in the family crypts.

 

Ned was in the courtyard when Arthur came out, having packed all of the supplies he would need. Ned noted that he was still without Dawn. “I know you’re wondering, so why don’t you ask just ask me and we can get it over with.” He said.

 

Ned’s curiosity got the better of him. “Where’s Dawn?” He asked.

 

“Only a Dayne who is worthy of it, can wield the sword.” Arthur said. “It was being unable to lift it that made me realise how far I had fallen.”

 

“What made you unworthy?”

 

“Not standing up to Rhaegar sooner…”

 

Ned thought for a second. “Have you tried lifting it since I freed you?”

 

“What would be the point?” Arthur asked.

 

“Lyanna is going to have guards. If we are going towards a fight, I would rather you were at your best.” Ned responded.

 

Arthur sighed and reached out his hand in a motion that reminded Ned of recalling Ice. Eventually a glowing white greatsword flew into Arthur’s hand. His face seemed to light up with pride. He knelt down and held the sword close. “I promise, never to be unworthy of you again.” He vowed.

 

Ned took Arthur’s bags and strapped them onto Snowsong’s saddle. “We’re flying on your dragon?” Asked Arthur, grimacing.

 

“You object?”

 

“Rhaegar took me on his dragon once… One time was enough.”

 

Ned laughed at that. “Flying is fastest, now come. We have to be quick. Robert wants us to inform Lord Tyrell his cause is lost and relieve Storm’s End.”

 

“Ned!” Howland shouted, coming out of the keep as he and Arthur were getting onto Snowsong.

 

“What is it?” Ned asked. “There was a letter from your wives. You’re a father!” Howland said with a grin. “Catelyn’s birthed twin boys!”

 

Finally! Some good news,  Ned thought, as he laughed. With Arthur by his side, they would get Lyanna and go home to his wives and children.

 

It was all going to be alright…

 

 

—————————

 

 

Please… Please… Give me this,  Ned thought.

 

After Ned and Arthur had relieved Storm’s End, they had gone straight to the Tower of Joy. Where they had found Ser Owell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower. They would not allow them to get to Lyanna, so they died.

 

Ned had rushed to Lyanna and found her in a bed of blood. She had given birth to a stillborn girl. In her delirium, she was unaware that it was dead. She made Ned promise to look after her daughter. Lyanna was close to death herself.

 

After everything that had happened, the Gods had owed him this. Thousands dead… Brandon…Father… The Gods owed Ned his sister.

 

“She cannot fly in this condition.” Ned said hoarsely, standing over Lyanna.

 

“They had horses and a cart, we can take her to Starfall.” Arthur responded.

 

Ned sent Snowsong back to Kings Landing with a note tied to his saddle, telling Robert and Jon what he was doing.

 

They quickly made the preparations to take Lyanna, carrying her down the tower steps to the cart. Neither said much on their journey to Starfall. Arthur sat at the front, driving the horses. The cold didn’t affect Ned anymore but the heat sure did. He had to sit at the back, next to his sister the block of ice that held his niece.

 

They were dirty and sandy when they got to Starfall. The guards had recognised Arthur and instantly let them in. The rest of the time they spent there was a blur for Ned. All he knew was that the maester was trying to save Lyanna.

 

For two days Ned sat at the point between maddening grief and happiness. He didn’t sleep at all, always staying close to Lyanna. On the third day, the maester told him Lyanna would live and Ned could sleep, for the first time in a year.

 

Ned awoke to Arthur saying Lyanna was asking for him. Many tears were shed when they reunited. She told Ned everything, from her abduction to Rhaegar not allowing her to leave after she’d heard of what happened to their family. Ned’s heart had broken when she asked after her babe. Then it had broken again when he showed Lyanna her babe in a block of ice.

 

It was another week before Lyanna was strong enough to travel. Lord Dayne gave them use of a ship and they sailed along the arm of Dorne, before stopping at Sunspear.

 

The three of them were greeted in the courtyard by who Arthur told them was Doran and Oberyn Martell, Elia’s brothers and Doran Martell’s wife Mellario.

 

Ned stiffly got off the cart he was sharing with Lyanna, before helping her down. Oberyn rushed over to a confused Ned, taking him in his arms. “All of Dorne is in your debt, Prince Stark.” He said, as he pulled away.

 

“We thank you for saving our sister… And are gladdened to see you saved your own.” Doran added, sitting in his wooden chair with wheels.

 

“I’m sorry. I was too late to save Aegon.” Ned said.

 

A sad look, passed over the brothers faces. “You avenged his murder and saved his mother and sister.” Doran finally said. “I think it would be better for us all, if we focused on that fact.”

 

“You look weary, Prince Stark.” Mellario said in a melodic tone, walking over to Ned, laying her hands on his chest. “We have filled three of the bathrooms for you, your sister and Ser Arthur.”

 

“Thank you, Princess.” Ned said. “We cannot stay long. We must get on a ship to Kings Landing.”

 

“You’ve spent over a year fighting, Prince Stark. You can afford to take a day to wash it all away.” Doran said.

 

Ned relented, letting Mellario lead him and Lyanna away, as Oberyn lead Arthur. Ned saw Mellario and her husband share a look and a smile before her and Ned left the courtyard.

 

The large bathrooms were certainly beautiful, with white and blue tiles covering the walls and floors. The room had no roof and was open to the clear blue sky. Part of the floor was descended into the ground with steps to walk down and filled with water. The rest was a garden with some trees, grass, a wooden table and some benches around the pool.

 

Mellario had left Ned alone there, taking Lyanna to another bathroom. Where he had undressed and sunk into the warm water. For the first time in a long time, Ned felt he could relax. Then he heard the doors open and saw Mellario walk in.

 

She had changed clothes from earlier. Now she was wearing a very thin, light blue robe that went to the floor. It was practically see through.

 

“Is something wrong with Lyanna?” Ned asked, standing up, then trying to cover his decency.

 

“No. She is well.” Mellario answered. “I thought you might like company.” She slipped her robe off, bearing her naked body to Ned. He was in shock as the wife of the Prince of Dorne stood completely naked in front of him.

 

Mellario was one of the most gorgeous women Ned had ever seen. She had dark skin, amber eyes and a beautiful face. Long black hair that fell in ringlets to her arse. She was very short, with truly massive breasts. Gold and emerald piercings went through her large, coal black nipples. They were the only breasts, Ned had seen, that were near as perfect as Catelyn’s. She had a flat stomach and a thin waist, that flared into wide, womanly hips. Ned noticed her cunt was completely bare, between her thick thighs, like Ashara and Elia.

 

It must be the fashion in Dorne, he mused.

 

“Come now,” she said, “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a naked woman before.” As she walked down into the bath, bringing with her a few bottles of wine and two goblets. Ned had seen his lords and ladies naked in the saunas in Winterfell before. He supposed this was no different.

 

The two sat in the spacious pool together, naked.

 

Ned was content to sit back and drink the Dornish wine in the company of the beautiful naked woman. He was assuming, perhaps unwisely, that Prince Doran was fine with it. All he had to do was keep his eyes away from Mellario’s twinkling nipple piercings, something that turned out to be a very difficult task.

 

“It’s quite the fashion of Qarth to have the nipple of their exposed breast pierced. Men find it impossible to look away.” Mellario said with a wicked grin, shaking her breasts in Ned’s eyesight.

 

Ned had thought he was more discreet, perhaps the wine was affecting his judgment. “I am very sorry to offend you, Princess.” he apologised.

 

“Nonsense...” Mellario said, dismissively waving her hand. “There is nothing wrong with appreciating beauty.”

 

“You are certainly beautiful.” Ned agreed, his eyes roaming her body.

 

“Thank you…” Mellario said, standing from her seated position. Her wet hair stuck to her back, droplets of water cascaded down her massive breasts, dripping back into the bath. ”What part of me would you say is the best?” She asked. “My breasts?” She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them up for his inspection. “Or maybe my arse?” As she took a step or two forward, turned around and bent over, spreading her arse cheeks, giving him a view of her puckered arsehole and the inside of her pink cunt. “Maybe it’s my mouth then” she finished as she closed in on him, sat in his lap and placed a passionate kiss on his mouth, her tongue venturing forth to find his own.

 

Ned pulled back slightly, his cock growing harder. “You’re married.” He said, “To the Prince of Dorne.”

 

“Rhaegar was the crown Prince.” Mellario responded with a smirk. “That didn’t stop you from giving Elia the best fuck of her life.”

 

“She told you?”

 

Mellario nodded. “She sent a letter to her brothers, telling them of your noble deeds at Kings Landing. Then she sent me a letter, telling me of your debauched ones at Harrenhal and how to reward you.” She placed kisses along Ned’s jaw. “I thought she might be exaggerating.” She placed a hand around his rapidly hardening cock. “But when I saw this… I knew I had to try it.”

 

Ned closed his eyes as Mellario pumped him. “It would be unwise to fuck the wife of a Prince, especially when you’re in his own keep.” Ned’s resolve was waning.

 

Mellario looked up, with compassion in her eyes. “You’ve endured far too much for any man to bare alone.” She said, cupping his face. “You must find release, or it will consume you. Focus your rage and frustration.“ She placed one of Ned’s hands on her cunt. “Focus it here. Let it out. I will help you.” She pulled him in for another passionate kiss.

 

Ned’s resolve finally broke, his lips left hers and trailed kisses down the side of her neck, causing Mellario to moan. She was right. After everything… He needed to fuck, and fuck hard.

 

“I am yours for the taking.” she moaned, as Ned started to play with her breasts. He pulled back and looked into her amber eyes, then glanced down at her chest, feeling his cock stiffen even harder at the sight of her massive breasts.

 

“What do you wish for me to do?” Mellario asked as she stared into his eyes from her position on his lap.

 

“Suck my cock” Ned ordered. His dark eyes and husky voice sending a quiver straight to Mellario’s cunt.

 

Ned picked up Mellario as she squealed and waded to the shallower end of the pool, to the steps. He sat on the highest one, so his cock was out of the water. Mellario knelt on one of the lower steps, her breasts were partially out of the water as she marvelled at his cock. She inched her mouth closer to place kisses along Ned’s cock head.

 

“A truly magnificent cock! The best I have ever seen, my Prince. Even better than Prince Oberyn!” Mellario said, admiring his cock before taking just the head into her mouth. Hearing that Mellario had fucked her husbands brother was certainly a surprise to Ned. Her tongue brushed the underside of his cock, causing Ned to moan as he felt the pleasure of Mellario’s mouth engulf him fully.

 

Ned threaded his fingers through her thick, black hair. Earning him a hum of approval whilst she continued to lick at his cock. “Fuck!” Ned muttered. She was very skilled. Mellario slowly pulled her mouth away from his cock.

 

“Do you like it, Ned?” she asked, panting from the lack of air from sucking his cock.

 

“Yes. Keep going.” he grunted as she slowly stroked his cock. She placed small licks and kisses on each side of his cock before going back to his cock head and taking him even deeper into her mouth.

 

She frantically bobbed her head up and down his shaft. While she rapidly pumped the part of his cock she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Ned watched her massive breasts bounce as she moved up and down. He reached down and started tugging on her piercings, drawing deeper moans from her throat. In response to the tugging, Mellario swallowed the entirety of his cock and stayed there. Ned could hear her choking, he gripped her head and kept her on him.

 

He moved up a step, so he could lie back properly on the tile margin that surrounded the pool and the grass around that. Still, fully sheathed in Mellario’s mouth, Ned began to pump her head and thrust his hips. Ned quickened his pace and began to brutally fuck Mellario’s mouth.

 

The sounds of the wet squelching her mouth made and the wet slapping of skin filled the room. Ned could smell her arousal as she choked around his cock, her spit drooling onto his balls. Tears were running down her face, her make up ruined as she pleasured Ned’s throbbing cock.

 

She began to thrash a little, her face going red, her eyes rolling and beginning to close at the lack of air. Finally, she went limp in his hands, surrendering all control. Ned could feel his end approaching, he gave three more hard thrusts emptying his balls into her stomach.

 

He pulled her head off his cock by her hair, covering her face in thick ropes of his seed, some even landing on her mountainous breasts. The white substance, contrasting beautifully with her flawless, dark skin. Her eyes were closed, his seed leaking from her open mouth.

 

Ned threw her unconscious body into the water, where it landed with a splash. She quickly put her head out of the water, resting it on the side of the pool. The water had washed away his seed and her make up, her eyes closed, his seed still leaking from her mouth as she panted. Ned took a tight grip of her hair, lifting her head up to him. Loud cracks echoed throughout the room as Ned slapped her cheeks a few times. The pain caused her to open her droopy eyes.

 

“You asked for this.” Ned growled into her face. “You asked for my rage. Do you want to stop?”

 

Her eyes opened wide. “No!” She croaked, “Please…more…more…please…”

 

Ned was happy to oblige her. Still griping her hair, he dragged Mellario, on her hands and knees out of the water. He lead her to the grass, where he pressed her head down, so her arse stuck up, into the air. Ned looked at Mellario’s massive arse with a hunger in his eyes.

 

He started spanking it, hard. Her moans and squeals rose into the air as she arched he back more, pressing into his strikes. After her arse had turned red, Ned turned his attention to Mellario’s soaked cunt.

 

He teased her entrance with a finger, his other hand pressing her back down lower, arching it even more. “Are you ready to take my cock?” Ned asked, with a wolfish grin.

 

“Yeeesssss!” She moaned, trying to press back onto his fingers.

 

“What do you want?” Ned asked as he teased her cunt lips with the tip of his cock. He could hear her pulse rising.

 

“PLEASE! FUCK ME!” Mellario yelled. Ned slowly eased forwards, guiding his throbbing cock into Mellario’s slick folds.

 

Both lovers moaned loudly as Ned pushed further inside her. It was one of the tightest cunts Ned had ever been embraced by. It felt hotter than the sands of Dorne and smoother than Lysini silk. Ned placed his hands on Mellario’s ample hips, feeling her warm flesh as he gripped it with his fingers. He pulled her back onto him as he speared deeper into the depths of her womanhood.

 

“FUUUuuc-!” Her voice broke as she exclaimed, Ned’s cock fully sheathed inside her.

 

Ned pulled out slowly, earning a whine from Mellario, until only his cock head remained. Then he began to thrust inside again. Ned gradually built up a rhythm. Gaining speed as he fucked Mellario hard. Her cries of “Fuck! Fuck!”, “Yes! RIGHT THERE!” And “YOU’RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN DORAN!” were punctuated by the loud claps of Ned smacking her arse raw.

 

“Fuck” Ned groaned, as Mellario was brought to another, shivering climax. Her mouth hung open in a wordless scream as her silky depths squeezed Ned’s cock. The flesh of her massive arse rippling with the force of Ned’s thrusts.

 

Ned held Mellario's hips firmly. One of his hands moving from her hips, up her body to cup one of her massive breasts. His hand squeezed her vast, soft tit-flesh, eliciting delightful whimpers from her mouth. He played with her nipple piercings, tugging and twisting them. Making her nipples hard as stone. Ned fucked her harder and harder, as she begged for more.

 

“Play with my tits!” She squealed, Ned did not disappoint as he started playing with them more. Drawing more pleasure from her as he filled her cunt with his cock. She screamed again, as she found another peak from his efforts on her breasts.

 

“More!” Mellario begged.

 

So Ned drove into her faster, her massive arse bouncing and shaking with every thrust. His fingers tweaked her nipple piercings, making her nipples even harder. Mellario's breath hitched at the combined sensations of Ned’s massive cock in her cunt and his hands on her breasts.

 

Ned lifted her up, so she was on her knees, with her back pressed against his chest. He still had her tits in his hands as he pounded his cock into her cunt.

 

“Whore.” Ned growled into her ear.

 

“YES! YES! I’M YOUR FUCKING WHORE!!” she screamed as her walls squeezed Ned’s cock. Her whole body quaked as her climax ripped through her. All strength left Mellario as Ned was the only thing holding her up. He never stopped thrusting his cock into her depths as he felt his own end drawing near. Filling her with his seed, Ned thrust all the way into Mellario’s cunt. Depositing an ocean of his seed into her womb.

 

After a while, Ned turned her sweaty body onto her back as she lay on the grass. Her amber eyes fluttered as she looked at him. Her massive breasts, slowly rising and falling as she panted. Ned was still inside her… and he was still hard. They locked eyes, no words were said between them as Ned eased his throbbing shaft inside her again.

 

“FUCK!” Mellario squealed, feeling Ned fill her again.

 

He felt Mellario wrap him in her arms, drawing him down to a sensual kiss. When they pulled apart, Ned took one of her nipples in his mouth, as he continued thrusting. Tugging the piercing with his teeth, licking around her nipple.

 

Ned would be lying if he said he didn’t love breasts. Mellario’s were perfect, they were massive and shook with every thrust. Ned’s cock was penetrating deeper into her than ever before. Causing her to squeal and moan and cry with pleasure. Ned began to quicken his pace again. Sensing that Mellario was close to her end and feeling that he was approaching his own.

 

Her body shook violently, in the throws of an earth shattering climax as her cunt snugly clenched around him. She squirted evidence of her pleasure around his cock as Ned buried it deep in her cunt, depositing rope after rope of his potent seed inside her.

 

Ned fell on Mellario, both panting from their debauchery, their breath mingling together in the air. Ned quickly looked up when he heard applause from the side.

 

“Bravo!” Ned was surprised to see Doran sitting in his wooden chair by the table, with his guard standing next to him. Well, fuck. There’s no way to explain this… Ned knew.

 

“Did you enjoy the show, my love?” Mellario giggled. Looking at Doran.

 

“Very much so!” He responded.

 

Ned looked from Doran to Mellario, confused…

 

“Poor Ned.” Mellario laughed. “My darling husband enjoys watching other men fuck me. More than fucking me himself. I have given him three beautiful children.” She reached up, running her hands over his sweaty muscled chest. “Now, we find studs for me to fuck while he watches.”

 

Ned was dumbfounded. He had heard of some lords wanting to watch other men fuck their wives, but they were only rumours. The thought of watching other men fuck Ash and Cat only made Ned want to kill someone.

 

“Yes, it is true, Prince Stark. I enjoy watching Mellario. We felt you deserved a reward for saving Elia.”

 

“I had to practically beat Oberyn off with a stick, so I could have you to myself.” Mellario added.

 

“So… you… enjoyed that?” Ned asked, still questioning if this was real.

 

“Yes!” Both Mellario and Doran said, in raised voices, trying to get their point across.

 

“Well then…” Ned said with a smile, suddenly becoming a lot more accepting of the situation, his cock getting harder again inside Mellario. “Shall we give your husband a show?”

 

Ned fucked Mellario every way a man can fuck a woman as Doran and his guard watched.

 

He did nothing when Ned struck Mellario, nothing when she screamed how much better Ned was than him and nothing when Ned stuffed his cock up Mellario’s arse.

 

As the day went on, Ned had an idea. As he was taking Mellario up her arse again. He pushed her face into the pool, so she couldn’t breath, and held her there.

 

“I won’t let you go until i’ve filled your arse with my seed again.” He growled into her ear, that was above the surface.

 

Ned had began fucking her at a brutal pace as he held her under the surface. Ned could see bubbles rising when she accidentally let out air when he did a hard thrust. Her body began to thrash as Ned relentlessly fucked her arse.

 

He locked eyes with Doran, daring him to stop what was happening. The guard, looked like he was going to stop it, but Doran told him not to.

 

Eventually, Ned spent himself in her arse just in time. Bringing Mellario out of the water as she gasped for breath and shook from another, earth shattering climax, squirting all over the grass again. She screamed the loudest she had so far, then she eagerly gulped down the air. Her massive breasts quaking as she got air into her lungs. Then, lost consciousness.

 

Ned carried her short body to the table next to Doran. He placed her on her back, her head next to him. Ned pulled out of her arse and began thrusting into her cunt again. Her head snapped to one side, then the other as Ned slapped her back to a waking state. She looked into Doran’s eyes as Ned filled her fill his seed for the hundredth time.

 

The next day, Ned, Lyanna and Arthur left on a ship given to them by Doran. Mellario bid them a tearful goodbye, kissing Ned in full view of the crew and guards. Which wasn’t too much, next to her wearing a Qartheen style dress. Many men were gawking at her massive, bared breast as she stood next to Doran. She promised she would visit Winterfell often as they left.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned had been tense when they got to King’s Landing. After Lyanna’s ordeal, she did not want to marry anyone and Ned wasn’t going to force her. He didn’t like it, but he could use the fact that Lyanna’s difficult birth had rendered her barren to stop the marriage. Few lords would care that a girl did not wish to marry a king, but a barren girl could not provide heirs and the realm needed stability. Ned had hoped that it would be enough.

 

To Ned’s surprise, Robert had actually been soft and careful when talking to Lyanna, saying that he understood her reasons for not wanting to marry and was just happy that she was alive. Even going so far as to offer his condolences for her lost babe. He only requested that she would reply to his letters when he wrote them, Lyanna had graciously agreed. Ned had left the hall with Lyanna thanking the Gods for letting Robert see sense.

 

Robert and Jon had agreed that Elia would be allowed to go back to Dorne, but her daughter would not. Understandably, Elia had been very against the idea of being parted from her last child.

 

They had decided Rhaenys could not remain in King’s Landing, so it was a matter of who would foster her. Ned had suggested himself, saying Rhaenys and Elia would live in Winterfell with him and Rhaenys would marry his oldest son.

 

Elia had quickly agreed to that option. The others had seen the reason in that too. In private, Elia had kissed Ned, telling him she had prayed for this outcome when they told her Rhaenys couldn’t go back to Dorne.

 

As they were packing to leave, Lady Anna Henrietta had come to Ned, telling him that she was pregnant, that it was his babe in her belly. She told him she would pass it off as her husband’s, whom she made sure to fuck when they met up in Kings Landing. Ned had offered to help her, but she denied him, perhaps for the first time. She said it might draw unwanted attention. Seeing she had set her mind, all Ned could do was bid her good luck.

 

So, with Lyanna, Arthur, Elia and Rhaenys in tow. Ned lead his armies back to Winterfell.

 

To his wives and children.

 

To home.

Notes:

And that’s the rebellion!

So, first things first, when Ned referred to bison on the chapter, he was referring to a type prehistoric bison that lives in the North. It’s called Bison Latifrons, you can search for an image if you want a visual aid for the scale. (It’s fucking big)

The next thing is, yes. There will be a time skip to the beginning of the story after this chapter. However, that does not mean there will be nothing for the time in between. So, the next few chapters will be a collage of “shorts” chapters detailing events that happen during the time skip. There will be multiple stories in multiple times in a single chapter. (Lemore arriving, Ash,Cat,Elia,Ned bonding) Feel free to make suggestions if you have any.

Third and final thing. I have been contemplating doing another group of “shorts” chapters involving historical Starks fucking shit up and fucking historical hotties. I have multiple ideas for this already. Hell, looking at the first chapter would give you a few clues as to what I would be planning. So, my question is, should I do it? In this fic or another? Or not waste my time on another fic and only write for this one?

If you have opinions on those things, feel free to make them known.

As always, I like hearing what you think of the chapter.

Remember to like, ring that bell and subscribe for the next instalment of When Winter Comes!

Chapter 9: Shorts

The First Morning After War…

 

The smell of pine trees filled Ned’s nose as he stood naked on his balcony, watching the sun rise over Winterfell and the Winter City. Sunlight bathed the snow capped roof tops in a golden glow. The people were just beginning to wake up and life return to the city.

It’s good to be home, Ned thought.

He hadn’t been able to sleep much last night. The first day back was filled with conflicting emotions for Ned. The war was over and he could see his wives and children, yet he also had to bury most of his family. Their wolves and dragons had howled in grief when they saw the bodies. Ned understood their pain.

He surveyed they place that he now ruled, his home. What should have been Brandon’s… Winterfell was a beautiful castle and one of the biggest in Westeros, even bigger than the Red Keep, encompassing several acres with two high, curtain walls surrounding the castle. It had many high towers and thick walls of grey granite, with many separate sections to the castle. From his position, he could see the guest keep close to the barracks and behind them, the Godswood. He could also see the sunlight, gleaming off the roof of the glass gardens, a part of the castle he intended to expand.

Altogether, Winterfell proved to be an imposing sight. Elia and Arthur had been in awe when they first saw it. Beyond Winterfell, Ned looked to the Winter City that surrounded it. It wasn’t as big as Kings Landing, or Old Town, but it was the largest city in the North. It was the centre for most of the canal routes through the North, rarely was there a time where barges weren’t carrying things too, or taking things away from the city.

Unlike Kings Landing, the city felt like it had room to breath. There were vast quantities of land in the North, the builders made good use of it. There were gardens and parks in the city, each one having a Weirwood heart tree. Like Winterfell, the city had multiple layers of walls, where they had been erected first, then around parts of the city that had expanded beyond them. This cycle of expanding the city, then building a new wall around it had been going on since the city was founded.

Off in the distance, Ned could see the mountain the dragons of house Stark had made their own. Moonhowler was still circling the mountain peak, as he had been since they had laid Ned’s father, his former rider, to rest.

At last, having surveyed the vast beauty of his land, Ned turned back to his room. Lying in his bed, he saw beauty to surpass it in his two wives. Still asleep, they were naked, curled up together for warmth. Their skin was still sweaty from their activities during the night. Ashara and Catelyn had clearly grown close in his absence, they showed him how well they worked together when they welcomed him back.

Catelyn’s pregnancy had caused her breasts to grow even larger than before. She had used them to great effect, to make him finish inside Ashara’s cunt. It seemed Catelyn had become obsessed with him getting Ashara pregnant, making sure every time he finished, it was inside Ashara. Ned didn’t mind it all too much and Ashara certainly enjoyed the attention. They had been slightly disappointed, when Elia hadn’t joined them in bed. However, she had understandably needed to stay with Rhaenys during the night and perhaps for many nights to come.

He heard a small coo from the cot on the other side of the room. Ned softly padded over, taking care not to make a sound. He reach the cot and looked inside at his two, twin boys. Ned hadn’t truly known love until he had set his eyes on his first children. It was a selfless, un-ending, unconditional love that made him the happiest man in the world, in spite of all that had happened.

Catelyn and Ashara had named them Robb and Jon. What hairs Robb had on his head were red, while Jon’s were dark, like his. It seemed Robb and Jon had taken after their mother and father respectively, at least as far as looks went. The babes were holding hands as they slept.

Ned heard Catelyn and Ashara wake up behind him, then slowly walk over. He felt their naked bodies pressed against his back as they put their arms around him.

“Aren’t they just perfect?” Ashara whispered, looking dreamily down at them.

“Just imagine, when Ned puts a child in your belly…” Catelyn hummed, stroking Ned’s arm.

“I would have thought, after last night, Ash would have one there now.” Ned said as he turned to his wives.

“Let us make sure of that.” Catelyn giggled, pulling Ned by his cock and taking Ashara’s arm, leading them to the balcony, away from the cot.

The trio walked out onto the balcony, then Ashara and Catelyn dropped to their knees in front of him. They took his shaft in their hands and began to lick along it, bringing it to it’s full length.

“I can’t believe I’d almost forgotten how amazing this cock is.” Catelyn pulled back to say, as Ashara’s tongue swirled around his cock head, drawing moans from Ned.

“Then I must make sure to etch it into your mind.” Ned chuckled in response.

Catelyn smiled up at him and went back to diligently servicing Ned’s cock. They took to opposite sides, bobbing together up and down his throbbing shaft, one would go from base to tip, the other from tip to base. Occasionally, they would lock lips around the head of his cock. Their tongues would dance together as they pleasured their husband.

Ned put his hands on their heads, threading his fingers through their hair. He held their heads on either side of his cock as he thrust his hips, sandwiching his cock between their mouths as he fucked them. His wives were covering his cock in saliva as he heard them moaning. He looked down and saw they were pleasuring each other, their fingers in each other’s cunts.

Ned pulled them off his cock, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths as they looked up at him, their massive breasts rising and falling.

“So, who’s mouth am I going to fuck first?” Ned asked, his hands still griping his wives hair.

Ashara looked to Catelyn “I feel our Tully wife should be given another chance, after how well she did last night.” She said with a smile. One of the first things his wives had done, upon getting him into bed, was have a competition to see who could fit the most of his cock into their mouths, Ashara had won but not by much.

“If you insist, my dear…” Catelyn purred, fluttering her eyes at Ashara.

“As you dine on our husbands magnificent cock,” Ashara said, proudly “I shall feast on your delicious cunt.”

And with that, Ashara got below Catelyn, as she moved so suck Ned’s cock. Ned took a firm grip of Catelyn’s long, red hair with both hands and placed his cock head in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as her tongue swirled around his tip. To Ned, it felt like Catelyn was trying to suck his soul out through his cock.

Catelyn was completely at their mercy as Ned set a slow pace, thrusting his cock into her mouth as Ashara lapped at her cunt. Inch-by-inch, Ned went deeper into her throat with every thrust. Catelyn’s moaning from Ashara and the glucking sounds coming from her mouth were getting louder. Ned started speeding up his thrusts, Ashara took hold of Catelyn’s wrists as Ned began fucking her throat in earnest.

Ned looked down and saw his thick shaft disappearing into her mouth, her big, clear blue eyes looking up at him, begging him to give her what she deserved. Drool was spilling from her mouth, down onto her monumental breasts as Ned thrust his cock all the way into her mouth.

She took every inch of him, her lips were sealed around Ned’s base as he held her there. He could feel her throat contracting around him, squeezing his manhood. Tears were streaming from here eyes, her face as red as her hair, her eyes were rolling back into her head as Ashara brought her to a shivering climax. Ned kept her on his cock, to muffle her moans, then finally let her go.

She panted heavily, gulping down breaths of cold, northern air as strings of saliva still connected her mouth to Ned’s cock. Ashara let go of Catelyn’s hand and it instinctively went to stroking Ned’s cock. Ashara got out from under Catelyn, her face soaked with evidence of Catelyn’s pleasure. Suddenly, all three heads turned to hear the babies cry out. Catelyn immediately got up of wobbly legs and went over to them.

“They’re hungry.” She said, matter of factly. “I will feed them and you will get our wife good and pregnant.” Catelyn said to Ned as she wiped herself clean, then picked up their sons and lifted them to her breasts.

Ashara bit her lower lip, then bent over the balcony barrier, sticking her arse out, shaking it from side to side, enticingly.

“You heard our wife.” She laughed “Get me pregnant!” Ned could only obey.

He thrust deep into Ashara’s cunt, drawing wonton moans from her lips. He took hold of her hips and thrust into her savagely. Giving her arse a few hard slaps as she quaked and quivered around him. Her cunt was a wet, molten vice as the pressure built in Ned’s cock.

His hands roamed her body, pinching her nipples, stroking her stomach. She really enjoyed when he stuck his thumb in her arsehole, her legs quivering as she found her end. Ned could feel his own climax fast approaching, he grasped her hair, bringing her body against his.

He thrust all the way up to the hilt inside her and his throbbing cock deposited rope after rope of potent seed as deep inside her as he could go. Ashara leaned over the balcony barrier, panting. Ned delivering little licks and kisses to her sweaty back after he pulled out of her, a waterfall of his seed streaming from her cunt. Ned took her in his arms and carried her back to their bed, laying her down next to Catelyn as she fed their children.

Ned smiled as he leaned on one of the posts of his bed, gazing at his new, burgeoning family, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
7 months after Robert’s Rebellion

When a Septa Comes to Stay

 

“The builders guild have certainly outdone themselves here.” Ned said proudly, as he looked around the newly completed Sept. The stone work on the statues was excellent, each of the Sept’s seven walls had a statue of one from the pantheon in front of it. A large, multicoloured, stained glass window shone light onto the altar that sat in the centre of the hall.

“Thank you for making this, Ned.” Cat said as she, Ash and Elia looked over the artwork on the painted walls. Both she and Elia had wanted a Sept for them to pray to their gods in. Ned saw no reason why he shouldn’t build them one.

“Our Septa will be arriving soon,” Elia said, “Oberyn recommended her to me, she’s coming all the way from Dorne.”

“Then I hope she’s not quite so pious as other Septas I have met.” Ashara said, sitting on one of the benches. At seven months pregnant, she had grown quite large, sitting had become a more comfortable alternative to standing for her.

The four of them had formed a tight-knit group in the seven months they had all been together. With Rhaenys getting used to her new home and having fewer nightmares, Elia had been spending more nights in Ned’s bed with his wives. They continued conversing for a time, until they were interrupted by the door to the Sept opening.

In the doorway stood a woman they almost didn’t recognise as a Septa. She wore a Septa’s white robes, though they were surprisingly low cut, drawing attention to her large bust. She was very pretty, with light brown hair, uncovered by a Septa’s hood. She also wore a small green jewel on a necklace, it twinkled in the light as it nestled in her lightly tanned cleavage.

“Greetings, my Prince, my Princesses…” she smiled warmly.

“Septa Lemore, I presume?” Elia asked, as they all walked up the steps to greet her.

“I am she, Princess Elia.” She said, bowing her head in deference.

Ned saw Catelyn’s eyes flicker down Lemore’s body, taking in her large breasts and slim waist, before biting her lip and smiling. “We’re so glad to have you here, Septa.” She said, taking Lemore in her arms.

“Please, call me Lemore, Princess.” The Septa said.

“Then I am Catelyn and my partners are Ashara, Elia and Ned.” Catelyn responded with a smile.

“Yes, I have heard many tales of your husband.” Lemore said, fixing Ned with a gaze he couldn’t quite decipher.

“All good, I hope.” He joked.

“Oh…definitely…” Lemore answered.

“I take it, you are aware of the situation between myself and my wives…” Ned said. When he had been in King’s Landing, the High Septon had tried to convince Ned to convert to the faith of the Seven and annul his marriage to one of his wives. He had not been successful.

“Of course I am aware, Ned.” Lemore answered him. “Yours is a marriage of love, such a thing cannot be a sin.”

Ned was a little surprised by that. “Septons I have met have told me it is a great sin to take more than one wife.”

“The faith teaches that you must only marry for love.” Lemore said, “I have seen no Septons call arranged marriages a sin and we all know few of them are done out of love. If the marriage has love, then I care not if you marry two, or twenty women.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” Ned chuckled. “Or they’ll have me marry half the women in the North.”

Lemore began to laugh as well. “Besides, they say as Septas, we are married to the Seven. So technically, I have both more husbands and more wives than you.” Soon the whole group was laughing, it seemed their new Septa was a good fit.

After some time, Ned and Ashara left Catelyn and Elia with Lemore, she was there for their benefit after all.

“Ten golden dragons says you fuck her before the week is done.” Ashara grinned, waddling with Ned, leaning on him as they walked back into the main keep of Winterfell.

“It’s unlikely a Septa would sully herself by bedding down with a heathen northerner like me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, my dear, Ned. Did you not see how she looked at you?” She said “That’s exactly why she’ll do it.”

 

—————————

 

After they had their dinner, Ned and his women had decided to have a midnight swim in the godswood’s natural hot water pools. The four of them quickly made their way through the godswood, having divested themselves of their clothes quite quickly. Catelyn and Elia were walking ahead, playfully kissing and groping each other’s naked bodies as they went. Ned was walking behind, with Ashara on his arm. The all knew they were quite safe in the godswood, it was where house Stark’s direwolf pack resided. It would take an army to breech the godswood with hundreds of direwolves guarding it.

“I want to watch you fuck the pair of them up their arses.” Ashara giggled, pressing her swollen breasts against his arm. They were nearly at the clearing when they saw Catelyn and Elia stop ahead of them and hide behind a tree.

“Look.” Catelyn turned and whispered to them, with a lusty smile. What Ned saw next was certainly surprising.

Fuck! I’m going to need ten golden dragons.

It seemed their resident Septa had thought of the same idea as them. She too, had gone for a midnight swim in the godswood, entirely naked. Ned’s eye rolled over her body, appreciatively. She had large breasts, good hips and a slim waist. She was a very pretty woman, with blue eyes and light brown hair, she still wore the twinkling green jewel necklace. In the light of the stars and the moon, she looked quite ethereal.

Ned didn’t know whether to reveal himself and his women, or head back into the castle. However, the choice was taken out of his hands when Ashara, looked up at him, smiling and walked out from behind cover.

“It’s certainly a surprise to see you here, Lemore.” She said, standing in the clearing at the edge of the pool in front of the Weirwood. Lemore looked up in surprise, then stood in the middle of the pool, water running down her naked body.

“I could say the same of you, Ashara.” She said, warmly. Both women were seemly completely unashamed by their nudity.

Ned didn’t quite know how it happened, but now he, his women and Lemore were all sitting and talking, naked in the hot pools of the godswood.

“Forgive my for asking, Ned.” Lemore said eventually.

“But, is it true that followers of the Old gods believe making love in front of a Weirwood brings good fortune?” Ned was a little surprised by her bluntness, Ashara, Elia and Catelyn started giggling.

“Generally, that is correct.” Ned answered her.

“We’ve certainly done it enough times.” Ashara laughed, causing Ned’s other women to laugh as well.

“I can certainly see the appeal.” Lemore said, standing up, showing her nude body to everyone again. “I’ve always found, there’s something so unimaginably erotic about making love in a place of worship…” She walked towards the Weirwood, gazing up at it with reverence.

“Gods woman! Just say you want to fuck Ned!” Cat exclaimed with a laugh. Lemore blushed slightly, then fixed Ned with a sultry look. Ned turned to his wives, who gave their emphatic approval.

Ned stood near the edge of the pool, with Lemore kneeling in front of him, marvelling at his hard cock. Ashara was pleasuring herself as she watched them and Catelyn with Elia, who were fucking next to them.

“Gods be good!” Lemore said, placing her hand on his length. “I have lain with men from all over Westeros and Essos and I have never seen a cock as massive as this.” Ned could feel her hot breath on his cock head as she pumped him, her tongue teasing the tip.

“You really don’t sound like any Septa I’ve met before.” Ned chuckled, hands on his hips as the Septas mouth engulfed his hard cock, taking him in two thirds of the way before pulling off him.

“In my travels, experiencing the religions of the world. I have come to the conclusion that sex is the ultimate form of worship.” She answered, as Ned gathered her hair into his hand. “Out of love for us, the gods gave us the ability to experience what it’s like to be in the seven heavens, while still alive. Not taking part in the joys of lovemaking is sacrilegious in my view.” She said proudly, licking along his length.

“Keep talking like that and half the city will be coming to the Sept.”

“Excellent.” Lemore happily beamed up at him, slowly rubbing his cock.
 
Ned’s cock began to twitch as Lemore licked his throbbing shaft. She dragged her lips along his meaty manhood, right down to his base, where she lovingly caressed his balls with her tongue. Ned let out a rumbling moan as he felt Lemore take his balls into her mouth as she rubbed her hands along his wet cock.
 
“You’re clearly very experienced at this, Lemore.” Ned chuckled, watching Elia stuff three fingers into Catelyn’s cunt as she sucked on her massive breasts, causing her red haired lover to moan and writhe in pleasure.
 
Lemore moaned as her mouth left Ned’s balls, her hands never stopped rubbing his cock. “You have no idea how many I’ve practiced on.” She smiled. Then, went back to pleasuring his cock. She put her lips around his cock head. Ned let out a sigh as Lemore took his cock into her throat again, her head, bobbing up and down his cock.

 Ned sat back on the edge of the pool, propping himself up with his hands in the cool grass, Lemore still kneeling in the warm water. The new position allowed Ned to see Lemore’s head going up and down his shaft, Catelyn and Elia licking each other’s cunts and Ashara lying back, rubbing her cunt lazily as she watched them all.

Lemore had put her hands on Ned’s thighs, pushing them further apart, trying to get more space for her as she stuffed as much of Ned’s cock into her mouth as she could. Ned put his hands in her hair, holding her at his cock as he began thrusting his hips up to meet her mouth. Her upper body went limp as she surrendered to Ned’s control.

Ned set a relentless pace as he thrust his cock down her throat. Wet sounds of choking and sloshing could be heard, joining the sounds of his wives’ moaning. Lemore’s mouth was a hot vice for Ned’s cock, drawing him deeper into it’s warm depths, her tongue massaging his length as it went in and out of her.

As Ned repeatedly slammed Lemore’s head down onto his pelvis, her eyes started to roll back into her head, she began to quiver as Ned used her. He ripped her off his cock, held her up by her hair and cracked his hand across her face a few times, the loud slaps sounding out through the godswood. Lemore’s cheeks were reddened as she began to climax on the third slap, Ned could see her arousal dripping into the hot water of the pool.

She barely had time to take a breath before Ned shoved his cock back into her mouth. Ned could see his women joining Lemore in climaxing around them and wanted find his end too. He began to fuck her mouth in earnest, thrusting harder and harder, deeper and deeper…until finally, the pressure was released.

Ned grunted as he held her lips around the base of his cock as she struggled for air, still eagerly drinking down his seed. He finally let her up and shot the last few ropes of his seed over her face and breasts. She plopped back into the warm water, steam rising off of her as she panted, his seed still leaking from her mouth.

Ned looked to his women and saw them recovering from their climaxes, he smiled wryly, splashed some water on Lemore’s face to wash her. Then lifted her quivering form out of the water and laid her down on the grass, nestling between her thighs.

“I think it’s time I had your cunt, Speta.” He said, as his cock flopped down onto her pelvis.

“I agree.” She smiled up at him. Ned put his hands on her thighs, spreading them further apart.

“I hope you’re ready.” Ned said as he eased his cock into her tight cunt.

“Urghh! Fuck!” She cried, gripping Ned’s arms and crossing her legs behind him. Ned felt her cunt clamp down on him in a wet, warm embrace as he fully sheathed himself inside her. Ned’s hand found it’s way around her throat and began to squeeze. “Yes! Choke me! CHOKE ME DADDY!” Lemore gasped in delight. Her lips parted, her eyes rolling back into her head at the lack of air. Ned held on until she began to go limp, then he let go and slapped her cheeks a few more times, bringing her back into a conscious state as she opened her eyes, blearily.

As Lemore quivered beneath him, Ned looked over to his wives, Elia and Catelyn were alternating between sucking Ashara’s nipples and kissing her as they fingered her cunt. Lemore’s hands on his face brought his attention back to her. Ned looked down at her beautiful face, her cheeks were reddened by his slaps and her lips, swollen from sucking his cock, were parted. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated. She pulled him down to give him a deep, passionate kiss. She moaned into his mouth, shaking as he withdrew from her.

Ned buried his cock into her cunt over and over, being held up by his forearms as he pumped into the spasming Septa beneath him. He looked down to her large breasts, shaking with every thrust.

“You want them don’t you?” Lemore asked, panting and moaning as Ned thrust into her. “Enjoy them, the gods gave us beauty and desire for a reason.”

“That they did.” Ned smiled as he took one of her nipples into his mouth and was rewarded with more cries and whimpers from his lover. His tongue swirled around the nub, bringing it to a hardened point, then he switched to the other.

Eventually, his ministrations on her breasts and in her cunt bore fruit, when Lemore squirted on his cock with a loud cry.

“FUCK! GODS! FUCKING SHIIIIT!!!” Her fluttering and clenching cunt quickly drew him to another climax.

“Carry my bastard, whore...” He leaned down and growled into her ear as he thrust his cock all the way inside and seeded her cunt.

“Fuuuckk!” She whined, losing consciousness as Ned’s pulsing cock filled her with his seed.

Ned removed himself from Lemore, getting another low whine from her lips, a torrent of his seed flowing from her cunt. Ned looked over to his wives, who he saw pleasuring themselves watching him. His cock was still hard, so he walked up to the nearest one, who happened to be Catelyn. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder easily, as she squealed in delight.

“I believe our Septa needs some attending to.” He said to Elia, who quickly made her way over to the unconscious woman and began licking Ned’s seed from her cunt.

“And what of me? Dear husband.” Ashara said, smiling up at him.

“You’ll get to watch me with our wife.” Ned said with a smile, slapping his hand on Catelyn’s massive freckled arse, earning a giggle from his Tully wife. Ned laid her down on her back outside the pool, next to Ashara.

Catelyn bit her bottom lip and said “I would rather ride you, Ned.”

“Then ride me, you shall.” he responded, kissing her.

Ned lay on his back next to Ashara, he put a hand on her large belly, where their child was. Catelyn stood over him, looking like a goddess. Pregnancy had only enhanced her body, bringing her breasts and arse to new heights of monumental size, even Ashara’s pregnancy swollen breasts could not match Catelyn’s monumental tits.

Her feet were planted on either side of his hips, she squatted down on thick thighs, took his cock in hand and went all the way down it. The act of inserting such a massive cock into her cunt made her quiver and moan, her eyes closed as she savoured the feeling. Ned felt his hands going to her hips as she sat on him completely.

“Gods…” she moaned, blushing “I never want to get used to this feeling…”

“I haven’t yet.” Ashara laughed, pumping her fingers into her cunt.

Ned allowed her to go at her own pace, he knew how much she enjoyed riding him and wanted to make it last for her. She slowly began to rock herself on him, his cock only partially leaving her cunt before going back in. Her titanic breasts were shaking pleasantly with every bounce.

With his enhanced eyes, he could see small amounts of milk flowing from her nipples. He began to massage her breasts with his hands and take one of her nipples into his mouth. Ned sucking her nipples caused Catelyn to moan even louder.

“Fuck, Ned! You love my breasts don’t you? Take them, they’re all yours.”

“Your breasts are fucking spectacular, darling.” Ashara interjected. “I wish mine were as good as yours.”

“Don’t say that. Your breasts are amazing.” Catelyn panted, beginning to ride Ned even faster. “Ned, tell your wife she has nothing to worry about.”

Ned hastily took Catelyn’s nipple out of his mouth. “Comparing your breasts is like comparing the most precious of gems.” He said, “They are different in their beauty, yet all equally priceless.”

“Well said, my love.” Catelyn said, placing her hands on Ned’s chest, threading her fingers through his chest hair. She began to ride him in earnest now, she wanted to finish and riding him like a prize stallion to get to it. Ned placed his hands on her hips, angling his body so he could thrust up and meet her half way. That lead to Catelyn moaning and squealing even louder, her eyes screwed shut, her head dropping down.

Eventually, Ned gave one hard thrust and Catelyn came undone around him. She thrashed and wailed, quivering, she collapsed down on top of him as he continued thrusting, her cunt clenched tight around his throbbing length.

Not far behind Catelyn, Ned found his end, for the third time that night. His seed filled Catelyn’s cunt, earning him coos of love from her as she buried her face in his chest. After a time spent enjoying lying together, Ned gently rolled her off him, her sweaty body glistening in the moonlight as his seed drained from her.

Ned sat up on his knees, he was still hard as a rock. He leant down and kissed Catelyn, then Ashara who had laid down next to her.
 
After Ned got off his wives, he walked through the pool straight to Elia, who was currently fucking Lemore.

“Your turn, Princess.” He said, taking the brown-skinned Dornish woman into his arms. “I believe my lady wives could use your assistance, Septa.” Ned said to Lemore, she smiled at him and began hobbling over to Catelyn and Ashara.

Elia was kissing along his jaw as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Ned put her down on the edge of the pool, she spun onto all fours and arched her back into him, thrusting her large arse out and shaking it enticingly. Ned gave her a few hard swats on the arse, the dark olive skin being marked by his hand.

“Stop teasing me, Ned.” She pleaded, as Ned brushed his cock head around the outer lips of her cunt. Suddenly, without warning he rammed all the way inside her, she shrieked as his cock went all the way to her womb. Ned pushed her back down, arching her arse a little more and railed into Elia’s cunt. Her body, quivering and thrashing under the assault of pleasure.

“Fuck! NED!” She breathlessly gasped as he smacked her arse a few more times. “YOU’RE SOOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN RHAEGAR!!!! FUCK!!!!!”

Ned grabbed her hair and pulled her up, she hissed in pain and pleasure as Ned kept up his relentless thrusting. He looked down to see the pleasant way Elia’s thick arse bounced against his pelvis as his cock thrust all the way inside her. More loud claps filled the air as Ned spanked his lover’s arse cheeks. Of all his lovers, Elia seemed to enjoy his rough treatment the most, especially if it was focused on her arse.

“URRGH! YES! FUCKING FILL MEEE!!!” Elia screamed as Ned stuffed his thumb into her arsehole.

Her body was no longer her own, her limbs thrashed and tensed, her head drooped, her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Her eyes had rolled back into her head as wave after wave of earth-shattering climaxes washed over her. The seconds stretched out to eternity, eventually Elia’s body went limp. Ned pressed her head down into the grass as he quickened his pace.

Ned thrust all the way inside her, his balls twitching as he filled Elia with his seed for the thousandth time. With a grunt, he pulled out of her, his seed leaking from her cunt onto the ground. Elia was left in a very undignified ‘arse-up’ position and it didn’t look like she would be able to move any time soon.

“How are you still hard?!?!” A very surprised Lemore exclaimed.

“When the Wolf’s Blood runs hot, there’s no stopping it.” Ned said, with a wolfish grin as he walked towards Lemore again, like a Direwolf walking towards its prey.

They continued fucking for the rest of the night. Ned made his way around the women again and again as Ashara watched and brought herself to climax over and over. Their liaison ended when Ned filled Lemore’s cunt again as she was lapping at Catelyn’s cunt, who was lapping at Elia’s, who was lapping at Ashara’s. All five of the participants coming to a mind numbing end together.

“I have lain all kinds of men…” Lemore panted, as they all lay together in a sweaty pile. “I have lain with men and women, Dwarves, Children of the Forest, First Men, Andal, Rhoynar… I have lain with crews of Summer Islander sailors and spell-smiths from Qohor… Pleasure slaves from Lys and Braavossi water dancers… I have been bred beneath the stars by a Dothraki Khal and his bloodriders, in front of their Khalasar. I have been a temple prostitute in Volantis and Norvos…” She continued, “I have lain with pirates and priests, warriors and healers, kings and beggars…and not one of them as ever come close to fucking me as well as you have.” She looked at Ned in disbelief.

“What can I say...” Ned smiled, “The best is yet to come…”

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
9 months after Robert’s Rebellion

A Star(Wolf) is Born

 

Winterfell was about to receive the birth of a new Stark. Ashara was lying on the bed as Druids and Midwives busied themselves around her. Her Direwolf, Starlight, was in the corner. Huffing away as she birthed her own litter. Catelyn’s direwolf, Redmane was trying to sooth her with comforting licks. It was a house Stark tradition. The men and women who marry into house Stark would get a direwolf of their own, when they are pregnant, the female direwolf would be impregnated by their husbands direwolf. The Stark child and a litter of direwolf pups would be born together, one of the pups would be the Stark’s familiar and would stay with them until death.

Ned’s own direwolf, Fang was sitting in another corner looking quite guilty after Starlight had snapped at him, as if she was saying “This is your fault!”. Ned, Catelyn and Elia were standing around Ashara, holding her hands and offering comfort.

Benjen and Arthur were looking after Rhaenys and the twins. Robb, Jon and Rhaenys often played with their direwolf pups and Rhaenys’ cat, Balerion, who had quickly taken a liking to it’s new puppy playmates.

“Fuck you Cat! You made this look so easy.” Ashara groaned angrily.

“It’ll all be over soon, my sweet. You’re doing wonderfully.” Catelyn cooed in response, stroking back Ashara’s sweat soaked hair that was plastered to her face. She knew Ashara didn’t mean what she said, she was well aware of the pain of childbirth.

“I’m beginning to see the head.” Druid Luwin said “Push Princess! It’ll all be over soon.”

“Aaaaaaarrgggggghh” Ashara screamed as she pushed, breathing deeply as she squeezed the hands of her lovers so hard, Ned thought they might come off.

“Once more, Princess. Push!” Luwin insisted. Ashara grunted in indignation, then pushed again.

Ned could heard squelching sounds he wished he could forget, then they were replaced by the most wonderful sound in the world. His baby was born. Ned looked over to the direwolves and saw Starlight licking a litter of four pups, then back to his lovers who were sobbing with joy as they looked at their new child.

Today is a good day.

After the messiness of the after-birth and the cord cutting was dealt with, most of the midwives left the room, leaving Luwin to make sure Ashara and the baby girl were well.

“Both mother and child seem to be in perfect health.” He declared proudly.

“We thank you, Druid.” Ned said, taking Luwin’s hand.

“You’ve no need, my Prince.” Luwin replied. “It is an honour and a privilege to serve house Stark.” Then he left Ned and his women.

“She’s just so beautiful.” Catelyn sobbed, looking down at the newborn girl. “Ned, I want one.”

“You already have more than I do.” Ashara laughed, rocking her newborn back and forth, pressing it to her skin.

“I want more.”

Ned could see tears welling up in Elia’s eyes as she turned away from them. It had been less than a year since her son had been murdered right in front of her. She had good days and worse days, it seemed today might lean more towards a worse one. Ned placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, unsure what to say.

“Elia…” she turned and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she buried her face in his chest.

Ned could see the three adult direwolves had curled up around the four pups, in a month, one of those pups will bond with the child and she will receive her dragon egg alongside it. After a time, Ned and Elia pulled apart and went to Ashara’s bedside.

“What will you name her?” Elia asked, her eyes glassy from her welling tears.

“I was thinking… Alysanne.” Ashara responded.

“A fitting name.” Ned said, looking down at her. “Now, let us introduce her to the rest of her family.”

Notes:

So that’s the first batch of shorts done. I hope you enjoyed them, I have around 5-6 more on the way.

Sorry for the wait this time, I got a little burned out after writing tens of thousands of words over a week.

Question, should I add the next batches of shorts onto this chapter? or should I just add more shorts chapters?

Edit - link for what Winterfell would look like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZdbpfcxfSk

Chapter 10: Shorts part 2

5 years after Robert’s Rebellion

Elven Beauty in Dwarven Statues

 

Ned was having one of those days.

Ashara, Catelyn and Elia got to spend time with all their children, including Catelyn’s newborn: Sansa. Ned, however, had to carry the burden of ruling the largest kingdom in Westeros. Currently, he was convening a meeting with the Winter city’s council. They sat together in the council’s hall, around a large oak table, discussing what to do about Markwell’s bridge, that had collapsed into one of the city’s main canals.

“The barges coming from the east will need to be diverted along another route.” Edwald Cerwyn said, pouring over a large map of the city that lay on the table between them.

“Do you have another route in mind, Canal Master?” Benjen asked him.

“The canal that flows along Baker’s Street would be the closest-” Edwald began.

“Baker’s Barge-way is far too narrow for that many boats.” Dorin, master of the Builder’s Guild cut in. The Dwarf picked up his pipe and indicated along the thin blue line along the east of the map. “If we send them down that way, the whole canal network will grind to a halt.”

“Then I would suggest that the builders guild remove the collapsed bride as fast as possible.” Edwald answered him, raising his voice.

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose, asking “Master Dorin, how quickly will you be able to clear the way?”

The Dwarf chewed on his pipe, thoughtfully “With some mages, it could be done before the moon’s turn.”

“My mages are not manual labourers.” High-mage Galadriel affirmed, the blonde Child of the Forest fixing the Dwarf with a steely gaze.

“Aye, you namby-pamby academics don’t like doing real work do you?” Dorin chuckled. The two of them quickly devolved into a battle of snark and snide remark.

Why do they always have to do this? Ned asked himself, They should just fuck and get it over with.

“Please, let’s all keep a civil tongue here.” Benjen said, trying his best to corral the rowdy council members into actually doing something.

For every hour they spend working, it seems they spend three more arguing. Ned mused.

“Even with help, that’s still nearly a fortnight with one of our main canals blocked.” trade-master Yorrek said.

Ned looked over the map again for a time before speaking. “What if we used the moats.” he suggested.

The Winter city had a moat for every curtain wall that had been built, before houses expanded past it and another curtain wall was built around them. After centuries of building and expansion, the city now had several sets of curtain walls and moats separating each section. The other council members and representatives of each of the guilds looked over the large map, contemplating Ned’s suggestion.

“We would need to ford a path to them from the canal’s, but that would be easy enough.” Dorin said, indicating to areas where the canals were closest to the moats.

“There isn’t enough width to comfortably have barges going both ways along them,” Edwald added, “But there are enough moats to make it viable. I would need to create a one-way system for them.”

The other members sitting around the table murmured in agreement.

“It’s settled then.” Ned said, standing up, the others rising with him. “Dorin, you will get your mages.” he saw Galadriel begin to say something, ”High-mage, you will instruct several of your mages to help the builders guild. They will be well compensated.” Galadriel bowed her head in supplication. “Edwald, I expect to see that one-way system by the end of the day.”

“As you wish, my Prince.” Edwald answered.

They made to leave before Dorin stopped them. “I ask only a moment of your time…” he said, the council members all began to sit down to listen to him. “After the collapsed bridge is cleared up, it will need to be rebuilt, yes?” Dorin asked, before continuing “Well, one of our guild members has created a building material that could be very useful for that.” Dorin reached below the table and pulled out what looked like a block of stone and placed it on the table. “He created a paste-like substance that becomes harder than stone when left to dry.” He said proudly.

Ned reached out and took the block in his hands. It was a heavy thing, dense and strong. Ned passed it to Benjen next to him.

“What do you call this? How is it made?” Ned asked, as the block made it’s way around the council members, examining it with curious expressions.

“Well, Stark of Starks,” the Dwarf began “It was invented by a guild member called Garak Concrete, he’s decided to call it Garak-paste.” he laughed “I’m trying to convince him to call it something else. It is made using limestone or sea shells, heating them for a while, then adding water. After that, you add volcanic ash along with volcanic rocks and more water.” He listed. “Once it has formed a paste, we put a layer down, put small rocks on top of it, then put another layer on them. We let it dry, then it is a surface harder than stone.” Dorin declared proudly. “The ash and the rocks can be provided by the few volcanoes we have in the great northern mountain ranges.”

If it was as good as he described, Garak-paste would be very useful for building in the North. “Very well then, Master Dorin.” Ned said, “You may make the new bridge out of this paste, let’s hope it is as strong as you say.”

With that, Ned and Benjen left the Winter city council hall. “Ugh.” Benjen sighed as they rode together on their direwolves through the streets of the city. “There are days I do not envy you, my brother.”

“It’s not like your position is much easier.” Ned answered. As Grand Marshal of the North, Benjen was equivalent to Ned’s Hand of the King. Ned had expected to be Brandon’s Grand Marshal as the position was usually taken by the younger brother of the Prince of Winterfell. As fate had cruelly stolen their brother from them, Benjen now had the role Ned should have inherited. Bejnen was a fair and just Marshal, most of Ned’s business came through him first and Ned had never found a reason to complain about Benjen’s judgment. Ned had to laugh sometimes, two men, both younger than six-and-twenty ruled the North together.

The two brothers rode slowly though the Winter city together, making idle conversation. They were passing a park named after one of the Brandons when their conversation turned to what they were doing that day.

“Plan to spar with Uncle Beric today?” Ned asked.

Benjen barked out a hollow laugh. “I feel, you and Ser Arthur are the only ones who stand a chance in that area.”

“Then how do you hope to impress your lovely wife?”

“Dorkk is unveiling his statue of Sylvie today isn’t he?” Benjen asked, changing the subject.

“I’d quite forgotten,” Ned answered, “That’ll certainly be fun.” He smiled.

“I’m half surprised she hasn’t asked us to fuck her together yet.” Benjen laughed. Sylvie had been Ned’s first, as well as Benjen’s and probably Brandon’s too. It seemed if there was a Stark man, she would make it her duty to fuck him, not that any of them minded.

“You fucked her with Rhea yet?” Benjen’s wife was recovering from giving birth to their second child. “Fucking Sylvie alongside Cat, Ash and Elia is something I won’t soon forget.”

“Yes, yes. Lucky you with your three, beautiful wives.” Benjen said in mock annoyance. “And no, I haven’t fucked her with Rhea yet, but she wants to watch me fuck her.”

“Maybe you can take Sylvie aside after the statue in unveiled...” Ned chuckled as they crossed the bridge to the gates of Winterfell.

 

—————————

 

They were gathered in one of Winterfell’s many halls, all their to see the unveiling of statues from the Stone Carver’s guild. Ned and Benjen had met with their wives there, as they ate some of the food that had been laid out on long tables around the hall.

Ned was making conversation with Elia and Arthur when he spotted Sylvie from across the hall, she certainly stood out from the crowd. She was wearing a dress; quite unusual for Sylvie. It showed an awful lot of cleavage; quite typical for Sylvie. Large swaths of her flawless, green skin was on display for Ned’s eyes, he drank in the vision of her beauty. Her dark-red hair was completely loose, falling freely down her back. He excused himself as politely as possible from Elia and Arthur, walking over to Sylvie.

“Stark of Starks…” she said, bowing her head, doing a small curtsy, causing her large breasts to bounce slightly.

“So, Dorkk finally got his statue…” Ned smiled, taking Sylvie by the arm and walking them to a food table.

Sylvie smirked up at him “I thought: Why not? He’s waited long enough.”

Eventually, Ned and Sylvie made their way to Ned’s women, Benjen, his wife and Arthur. The Stone Carver’s Guild Master unveiled the statues, one after the other. Finally, he got to Dorkk’s statue

“And now, my lords and ladies. We have a treat for you: A marble statue one of the most beautiful Children of the Forest to ever live.” He said, pulling off the veil, a hum of approval went though the crowd.

It certainly was lifelike.

Dorkk had carved Sylvie standing naked, with a wet sheet covering part of her body. Ned marvelled at the quality of stonework. He loved naked women as much as the next man, but even the biggest lecher could appreciate the skill it took to make stone look soft. Murmurs of appreciation went through the crowd as they looked over the statues. Ned could see Dorin and several other Dwarves getting misty eyed as they waxed poetic about Dorkk’s stonework. It truly was a beautiful statue.

However, Sylvie seemed to be quite indignant. “No one’s told me how fucking amazing my tits look yet.” She pouted in between drinking large cups of ice wine.

“I think your breasts look spectacular.” Lemore said, devouring lemon cakes, heavily pregnant with her and Ned’s second child.

“And the rest of your body is gorgeous too, just look at it.” Ashara added.

Look at it, they did. Dorkk had perfectly been able to capture Sylvie’s form. Her defined muscles were plain to see, along with her large breasts, her hard nipples poking out proudly.

“The sheet was cold and wet when I draped it over myself. Apparently it was to keep my nipples hard and he wanted the challenge of making cloth look good in stone.” Sylvie chuckled. “I don’t know if he captured my breasts properly. What do you think?” She asked, pulling her large globes out of her dress, completely unashamed by her nudity and the fact that there were a hundred other people in the hall too.

“God’s Sylvie! Have you no shame?” Catelyn laughed, colour rising in her cheeks. She wouldn’t admit it, but Ned knew she was a massive exhibitionist.

“None at all. Not to mention, we’re all looking at a statue of my tits anyway.” Sylvie answered with a wink and a smirk. “So…?”

“I think it would be near impossible for such perfect breasts to be captured in stone.” Benjen said, Rhea playfully smacking him on the chest.

“I think he got a fair likeness and you should be proud, Sylvie.” Rhea said.

Sylvie then turned to Ned, still cupping her breasts up for inspection. “Stark of Starks…” she began “Seeing as I have done one thing i’ve been promising to do for a while. It seems I should do another. Besides, the statue will be a nice reminder of what I looked like, while I am big with your child.”

“Are you calling the Right?” Ned asked, raising an eyebrow. He had assumed she would at some point, but maybe in a few years.

“Stark of Starks, I call upon you, the Right of Continuation.” She said, loudly and clearly. “I do not wish to marry, though I wish for a son of my own. Will you help me?”

“What’s the Right of Continuation?” Catelyn asked, seemingly confused about a new northern custom.

“It basically means she want’s Ned to breed her-“ Ashara began.

“-Yes!” Catelyn interrupted, “Yes! Do it Ned. Fuck her.” She urged him. “We can join in.” The prospect certainly seemed to excite her.

“Not this time I am afraid.” Ned told his wife, “The Right of Continuation is only between the Stark and the one who called it.”

“Then it seems our husband has work to do.” Ashara chuckled, her iliac eyes gleaming. Catelyn seemed a little disappointed, but she stopped pouting after Ashara whispered something in her ear.

Ned and Sylvie made their way out of the hall. Once they’d left, Sylvie quickly stripped out of the rest of her dress, leaving it on the floor as she practically skipped naked through Winterfell. Ned could see she was leading him to the godswood, where they had first made love. She was completely unashamed by the hungry eyes on her naked body as they walked though the castle. She was daring Ned to fuck her right there, to claim her and seed her in full view of others, like the old Kings of Winter would have done.

When they got to the godswood, she quickly removed Ned’s clothing, giving his cock a few strokes before they set off in the direction of the Weirwood tree. When they got to the open glade by the pool, Sylvie didn’t say a word before she dropped to her knees and stuffed Ned’s hard cock fully in her mouth.

Her large, amber eyes gazed up at Ned as she stretched her lips monstrous girth. Her head bobbed up and down his length as Ned tucked her red hair behind her pointed ears. He had a clear view of her beautiful, green face as she lovingly sucked his cock. First, she would take every inch of him. Gagging choking, her eyes watering as her nose was buried in the hair above his cock, breathing in his strong scent.

When she came up for air, she would lick and suck along his shaft, then she would focus on his cock head. She sucked on it, hard, swirling her tongue around it, causing Ned to moan in pleasure as he stood in the clearing. Then she would go back to his base and the cycle would begin again.

Up and down, she went, the Child of the Forest teasing him with her tongue. Ned moaned happily at the sensation. Ned’s hand’s snaked into her dark red hair, taking fistfuls of it in his grasp, controlling her movements. He could smell her getting more aroused at his dominant acts, her eyes filling with lust and love.

Ned grunted, his hands griping the back of Sylvie's bobbing head. Ned relished the feeling of her mouth on his cock, her soft lips and wet tongue worshipping him like a lover should. His mind drifted back to a similar situation, when he had fucked her for the first time. She had sucked his cock diligently then too. Sylvie continued at an even pace, pleasuring Ned’s shaft as she bobbed up and down it’s length licking and sucking him as if she was being paid for it.

Sylvie sucked him greedily, her soft lips enveloping cock, her warm tongue caressing him. After a time she pulled her head from him, giving a last few licks and kisses. Ned’s throbbing cock still standing hard as stone. A string of saliva still connected him to Sylvie’s mouth as she panted. She grasped his slick cock and pumped him a few more times, licking his tip as she locked eyes with him.

"I love your cock, Ned." She whispered huskily. “This is the true greatsword of house Stark.” She said proudly. She put her other hand on his cock and began pumping with both of them. Even with both hands on him, she couldn’t cover the whole length of his cock. She began to twist her hands as she rubbed him, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked his cock head. Ned nearly lost his footing at the sensation. She fisted his length faster and sucked him harder, trying to draw him to a finish.

“Gods, woman. You know how to suck a cock.” Ned panted, drawing his cock from her mouth as she whined at the loss. Then he sat back on the roots of a tree and indicated for her to continue. Sylvie made a show of nakedly crawling over to him, looking like a Shadowcat on the prowl. Ned moaned as she fully sheathed his cock in her throat, right up to the hilt. She didn’t use her hands at all as she pleasured Ned with her mouth, saliva dripping down his cock and over his balls.

Ned looked over the pale green form of his lover, her large breasts bouncing up and down as she bobbed her head on his cock, the flawless expanse of her back, down to her wide hips and delectable rear end. Ned leaned forward and loudly clapped a hand on her arse cheeks. Earning moans from the Child of the Forest as she gleefully continued to suck his cock.

Ned grabbed her head, holding it at the base of his cock as he thrust his hips up to meet her. The pressure of his climax reaching it’s peak. He let out a resounding “Fuck!” As he leaned back onto the tree, his balls twitching as his throbbing cock spurted thick ropes of his seed down Sylvie’s throat. The feeling seemed to go on forever as Sylvie kept swallowing his seed. Eventually, she pulled off his cock, her mouth full of his seed as it dripped down her chin. She looked right into Ned’s eyes as she swallowed his seed, licking her lips.

“Always… so much!” Sylvie panted, sitting on her knees as she devoured the last of his seed.

Ned was still hard, so he pushed Sylvie onto her back. She fell to the grass with a giggle “Do you wish to take me now, Stark of Starks?”

Ned placed a hand around her throat, her eyes widened in desire as she spread her legs further apart. “You have called for the Right of Continuation. I will provide you with an heir.” He growled at her face. Sylvie bit her lip and shuddered in anticipation.

Ned nestled himself between the expanse of her green thighs, his wet cock flopped onto her pelvis, reaching up to her belly button. “I still don’t know how that fits inside me.” She murmured, amazed at his length.

Ned’s eyes washed over her body. He kissed his way up her toned stomach, to her large, perky breasts, taking hard jade nipples in his mouth and sucking them. Then he kissed his way up her neck and kissed her deeply. Her eyes her closed as she wrapped her arms around him, falling deeper into their embrace.

Ned lined himself up with her and thrust all the way inside without hesitation. Her large eyes shot open as she screamed into his mouth. Ned took hold of her wrists, holding them above her head as he thrust inside her again and again, his tongue still dancing with hers. The lovers stayed in that position for a while, Sylvie moaning and cooing as Ned fucked her evenly.

Eventually, Ned pulled away from her, so he could watch her body move as he fucked her. Her long legs were resting on his shoulders as he looked down at her. A dark blush had formed on her chest and crept up to her cheeks, he arms lay lifeless above her head as she wailed and moaned. Ned pinched her nipples as her large breasts bounced in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck me, Ned!” She screamed as her cunt fluttered around him. Ned began to thrust faster and faster, cream from her cunt covering his cock. Wet slapping sounds coming from her sopping cunt could be heard throughout the glade as Ned fucked her.

“Breed me Ned! PILLAGE MY WOMB! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!” She cried as her peak shook the foundations of her being. She quivered and writhed around him as Ned slapped her face, her head snapping from one side to the other, pain and pleasure mixing together to form a mind numbing euphoria.

Ned pulled out of her barely conscious, sweaty body, then turned her over onto the hands and knees. Ned pushed her head down into the grass, her massive, heart-shaped rear rising behind her. Ned gave her toned arse a few more smacks for good luck, Sylvie squealed and moaned as her arse bounced against his strikes.

“Now, I shall ravage you, like a wolf taking his bitch.” Ned growled into Sylvie’s ear as he leaned down on top of her, placing a hand on her throat as his cock speared into her cunt.

Sylvie’s mouth hung open as her eyes fluttered in pleasure, she pushed her hips back onto Ned, trying to get more of his cock inside her. She shuddered and moaned, Sylvie surrendered to her Stark of Starks again, the thick cockhead sinking into the soaked, molten depths of her cunt, her toes curling in pleasure. Deeper and deeper, inch after inch of his shaft being sucked in by her cunt. All the way up to the hilt, Ned claimed her body, subjugating it to his whims.

The sensation was heavenly, the tight, warm walls of Sylvie’s cunt enveloping Ned’s cock like a tunnel of hot silk. Slowly, Ned pushed further into Sylvie, who could only moan into the grass as her divine body was ravaged for his pleasure. Ned thrust inside her, then pulled himself back out, drawing wanton moans from the woman beneath him.

In and out, he went, as her cunt clenched and massaged his throbbing cock. The sound of wet skin slapping together echoed throughout the godswood again. Ned was relentless in his quest to fill Sylvie with his seed, making her squeal and cry out was just a bonus.

"YES TAKE ME!" She screamed into the air as Ned squeezed her throat. “THIS IS WHERE WE BELONG! FUCKING LIKE ANIMALS OUT IN THE OPEN!” She was quivering around him now. Her end was drawing close and Ned knew his was too.

“Did you enjoy walking naked through Winterfell?” Now it was Ned’s turn to goad her, growling into her ear as he madly thrust inside her cunt. “You wanted me to fuck you there didn’t you? You wanted me to take you where everyone could see you. You wanted them to see The Stark fucking a babe into your belly.” As one of Ned’s hands squeezed her throat, his other reached down to palm her large, swaying breast, pinching her nipples.

“YES!!!” She screamed, “YES!!!!! I WANTED YOU TO FUCK ME LIKE AN ANIMAL!!!!! TAKE ME!! TAKE MEEEE!!!!”

So they did fuck like animals, Ned rutting her into the ground. Sylvie reached another peak, sending her even higher than before as her body twitched and convulsed and she lost consciousness. She squirted all over him, sending her liquid spraying over Ned’s thighs. He thrust powerfully inside her a few more times as she twitched and then filled her to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck!” Ned grunted as the last few spurts of his seed left him. He pulled out of Sylvie and flopped beside her.

“I love you, Ned… I love you….” Ned heard her murmur next to him as she cuddled up to him in her delirium.

 

—————————

 

Nine months after Sylvie had called the Right of Continuation, she gave birth to a girl. Upon seeing her, Elia laughed, saying they would need a bigger bed, as Sylvie was likely to be with them for some time.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
6 years after Robert’s Rebellion

Ned Get’s Witched

 

Ned had been back from the Greyjoy rebellion for a month before Winterfell’s resident mage, Wulfric had died of old age. So, Ned was faced with the task of choosing a new mage for Winterfell. Fortunately, Galadriel sent three very knowledgeable mages for Ned to choose from, each more beautiful than the last.

The first was Sabrina, she was the bustiest of the trio. The blonde witch had breasts as big as Cat’s, a feat only matched by Mellario. The next was a red-haired sorceress called Triss. She looked a lot like Cat, though her hair was shorter and her eyes were green. She was also short as Elia and while her bust was sizeable, it didn’t measure up to Sabrina’s and Cat’s. The third and final mage was Yennefer, the most beautiful of the lot. She had a mess of curly raven hair falling passed her shoulders and purple eyes, with a breasts to match Triss’.

Galadriel had told Ned, Yennefer claimed some distant kinship with Daena the Defiant as a descendant of one of her and Jonnel Stark’s many children. Ned saw she certainly had the ethereal Targaryen beauty.

It was up to Ned to decide who would be Winterfell’s resident mage, so he made sure to test the magical ability of each of them. They all performed equally well. So, Ned devised some other tests…

It quickly devolved into a competition between the three witches, the aim was to see who could fuck Ned the best. All three of them were incredibly skilled, each of them had fucked Ned in many different parts of Winterfell: the stables, the godswood, the glass gardens, the sauna, the bathhouses…

Now came another test.

Another feast was being held to honour more children from other houses being fostered at Winterfell. It was a tradition in the North that noble children would be sent to Winterfell to live alongside the Stark children. The aim was to foster friendships and make it easier to decide on marriage pacts. The children would also be the voice of their house in Winterfell, informing the Prince Stark what they might need.

Elia had been feeling ill, so she had retired for the evening and the children had been put to bed. Ned, Ash and Cat were being pleasured under the table by the three witches.

Sabrina was diligently sucking Ned’s cock, while Yennefer licked Cat’s cunt and Triss ate Ash’s. Whoever made their partner finish first would win. Ned looked over to see Cat’s flushed face, her massive breasts rising and falling rapidly in her cleavage. Yennefer had stuffed three fingers in Cat’s cunt and was massaging her clit with her tongue.

He turned to Ash, who seemed to be doing a better job of hiding what was happening, yet he could still see her gripping the arms of her chair. Triss was working away between Ash’s thighs, from this angle, it looked to Ned like Cat was the one pleasuring her.

Finally, he looked to Sabrina, who’s eyes were watering as she forced more of his cock into her mouth, gagging.

The feast was going on as normal in front of them. People were eating, singing, dancing and being merry. Fang, Starlight and Redmane were wandering between the tables, stealing food and taking it the corner to eat.

“This might be one of the most erotic things we’ve ever done…” Cat panted, looking over to her husband and wife.

“I think, fucking us, Elia, Lemore and Sylvie on the altar of the Sept might match this.” Ash cooed her, stroking Triss’ head.

“There was no one else in the Sept though,” Ned added, “and there’s hundreds of people in this hall.” Luckily, they were all too preoccupied with each other to look up to the high table, even if they did, they were too far away to see.

Ned could see his great uncle Beric regaling people with tales from his monster hunting days, with a busty, dark haired wench in his lap, laughing and spilling ale onto her breasts. Ned knew her to be Marei, he’d fucked her a few times, when she’d come to clean his chambers and his women were passed out on the bed, sometimes he fucked her on top of them. Ned hoped Marei’s husband wasn’t at the feast, it wouldn’t end well if he saw what she was doing with Beric.

The cool air on his cock brought Ned out of his thoughts. Sabrina had taken his cock out of her mouth and was lathering his balls with her tongue, one of her hands was still wrapped around him, rubbing him up and down as she sucked one of his balls into her mouth. Cat started gasping, gripping the table as she shivered, Yennefer working away at her cunt.

“It seems we have a winner.” Ned chuckled, gazing at his wife as she peaked. She tilted her head back in the chair and smiled, her eyes still closed as Yennefer kept up her work.

“Now, it is a race for second place.” Ash grinned, pressing Triss deeper into her cunt.

“You heard her Sabrina. Suck!” Ned urged. Sabrina let his ball out of her mouth with a pop, then started sucking the head of his cock as she pumped him with her hand.

"Fuck," Ned groaned, his head rolling back as he felt the warm embrace of her wet, hot mouth embracing the end of his cock. His hands gripped the chair arms at either side of him tightly. “There we go.” he said with a grin, as Sabrina smirked around his cock.

Her mouth sucked the cock down deep, moans rumbling as she worked her head on back and forth slowly, sucking and slurping on the thick shaft. Ned was surprised she could open her mouth wide enough to fully take him, he supposed she had had enough practice. The feel of her lips on his cock upon her lips was divine. She shivered as she pressed down deeper, greedily sucking Ned’s cock into her mouth as his eyes stared lustfully down toward her.

The steady motion of her head rocking back and forth was mesmerising, she striped off her dress under the table, freeing her massive breasts. Ned looked down at the naked witch sucking his cock as hundreds of people feasted in front of him, he saw her massive, bouncing breasts as she bobbed up and down his length. Sabrina moved quicker as she serviced his cock at a sensual pace, Ned could tell she was very experienced in the art of sucking cock.

Ned looked over to Ash, who was trying to stifle her pleasured mewls and gasps as Triss stuck her thumb up her arse. Then, the damn was broken the red haired witch’s face was bathed in Ash’s squirting, when she drew back, her face and her hair was soaked, along with her dress.

“I think it’s time all three of you focused on my husband now.” Ash panted.

Yennefer and Triss quickly followed the order, stripping off their dresses and crawling to Ned’s cock under the table. The three women worked Ned’s cock like an instrument. Sabrina swirled her tongue around his cock head as Yennefer and Triss sucked up and down on either side of his cock.

Ned was glad they were playing music in the hall, or people would have heard the wet sounds their mouths were making against his shaft. Ned grunted as he gripped Triss and Yennefer’s heads, holding them in place as he thrust his hips forward, fucking their lips and spearing deeper into Sabrina’s mouth. All three women diligently sucked his cock, barely ever coming up for air.

They really want the position, Ned thought.

They worshipped him like a god, alternating positions and movements around his cock, making sure they always had their tongues on him, always giving him pleasure. Ned could see them fingering each other as they knelt together and pinching each other’s nipples, trying to throw each other off.

Ned looked to his wives on either side of him, who were not so subtly pleasuring themselves as they watched the witches work on their husband. He felt the familiar urge spread from his twitching balls and knew what was coming.

Sabrina, Triss and Yennefer were battling over Ned’s cock, all three were trying to be the ones to make him climax in their mouths. Ned knew only pleasure as the three, beautiful witches were kissing around his cock head as he leaned back in his chair.

With a last grunting thrust, he pushed their heads back as they opened their mouths and he coated them with his seed. All three seemed shocked with the force and volume of Ned's it. He spent rope after rope of his seed coating their faces, in their mouths and on their large, heaving breasts. All three eagerly swallowed down all they were given, their bodies shivering in pleasure as they were used by their Prince.

Ned let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair, the witches still submissively licking his cock and each other clean.

He’d made his decision… he’d have all three of them.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
11 years after Robert’s Rebellion

The Princess and the Wolf

 

It was the beginning of a new year when Mellario had arrived in Winterfell again. She brought a mountain of gifts for all of Ned’s children and Rhaenys, who adored their ‘auntie Mel’.

“Gods! It seems every time I turn around, there’re more of you.” She had exclaimed as she got out of her carriage, wrapped up in warm, northern furs, gifted to her on a previous visit. Ned felt the same way sometimes. Now, he had eight trueborn children in Winterfell, with Ash’s Arthur being the youngest. Mellario had embraced Ned and his women tightly when she had managed to wade through the army of children to get to them.

The following week had been one of the most debauched weeks she had spent at Winterfell… and that was saying something. Mellario had come to him with a list she and Doran had made about what she had wanted to do with him.

The first had been dubbed ‘The Lady and the Bandit’. It had been a roleplay where she would go out riding and once she had gotten far enough away, Ned would play the role of the bandit. He had dressed in dark clothes and mask, ripped her from her horse, threatened to cut her throat if she tried to run, stripped her of her dress and fucked her on the side of the rode.

He’d been quite rough with her and she’d only begged for more. Fucking Mellario out in the open had meant a number of passers by had seen Ned fucking her. Luckily, neither were recognised as most assumed Mellario to be a whore, the pair did nothing to dissuade them from that assumption.

She had climaxed her hardest when one of the few who had gathered to watch them asked how much she charged. She had ridden with Ned back to Winterfell, completely naked under her cloak. Ned had given her clothes away to the smallfolk who had watched them.

The next scenario had involved a third participant. Mellario and Lemore had played a pair of Septas for Ned, as a Septon, to seduce. They had come to him to confess about all of the ‘sinful’ acts they had committed together.

Septon Ned had asked to see what those acts entailed, which ended up with Mellario and Lemore making frantic love in the middle of the Sept. After watching them together, Ned fucked the two of them over the altar of the Sept. Then preached a sermon about the importance of a wife’s fidelity as Mellario and Lemore sucked his cock together.

The third had been a particularly debauched idea: Mellario and Elia would go into the city and play the part of a pair of whores for Ned to fuck in a back alley. They had charged money for people to watch Ned fucking their arses against a stone wall.

The next scenario had been Ned sitting in Winterfell’s great hall listening to Mellario pleading with him to help her house against another that was encouraging on their land. It turned out, she was quite a good actress. Ned promised to save her house if she would fuck him as he sat in his throne, she had ridden him to a sterling climax and eagerly swallowed his seed as he sat his throne in the great hall.

The final scenario was a particularly fun one: ‘The whorish maid’. Mellario dressed in maids outfit that accented her massive arse and gargantuan bust and started cleaning Ned’s floor as he worked. After a time of her crawling around on her hands and knees, Ned pounced on her.

He ripped her dress off, pushed her face into her water bucket and fucked her into unconsciousness on his floor. He would periodically lift her face out of the water, allowing her a breath, before shoving her face back beneath the surface, delivering several hard spanks to her arse. When he was done, he told her to clean up his seed, that was leaking from her cunt onto the floor as she lay there quivering.

In a post sex haze, she had suggested trying to fuck him in his wolf form. That idea had quickly proved to be unfeasible when he showed her just how big it was when he changed forms.

By day, she was the Princess of Dorne, sent to make sure Elia Martell and her daughter were being treated well. She played with the children as their ‘auntie Mel’, she spent time with the Ladies of the North and went to see the sights the Winter city had to offer.

By night, she was Ned Stark’s whore, sent to fulfil his desires and serve as his sex slave.

All of that led to one night, when Mellario met with Ned in a darkened hallway of the castle.

“And what shall we do tonight, my dear?” Mellario asked in a hushed tone, standing in the shadows of the hallway. Even in the dim light of the few torches that illuminated the way, Ned could see she was wearing one of her many see through dresses.

“The same thing we do every night, Mellario.” Ned grinned, taking a maid’s dress and a pair of brown boots out of the bag he carried. “Fuck…But first, you’ll change into these.”

“Right here?” She asked with a smile, looking around the empty hallway.

“Yes.” Ned answered. “Do it quickly, or someone might see you…”

With a coy smile, Mellario began to remove her dress. She started from the top, working her way down, performing for her dominant lover. She pulled off the straps on her shoulders, revealing an expanse of dark, flawless skin. Then she pulled the dress down passed her mountainous breasts, the only ones that could match Cat’s. Ned saw her golden nipple piercings glinting in the torch light, her breasts bouncing as she moved. The dress fell easily down her flat stomach with her new, belly button piercing, yet got caught on her wide, childbearing hips and her huge arse. It took a bit of work, but Mellario managed to get her dress past her hips and her bare cunt as it pooled on the floor at her feet.

She stood there, confident in her beauty, flashing Ned a dazzling smile with pearly white teeth. Ned handed her the maid’s dress, she seemed to have some trouble putting it on.

“Whoever you took this dress from had a smaller chest than me.” She groaned, trying to force her breasts back into the dress.

“Almost all women i’ve met have a smaller chest than you.” Ned chuckled. “I took it from Marei. As I was walking here, I happened upon her and a few stable hands having a role in the hay”

“What a whore.” She laughed.

“Indeed. I took her dress, so she’ll be walking home to her husband naked tonight.”

“All women who betray their husbands should have to do the same.” Mellario locked eyes with him, daring him to make her do it. She finally gave up trying to make the dress she wore decent. Her breasts were halfway out of her bodice, with the tops of her dark brown nipples clearly visible. “Now that I am dressed…more of less... Like a mummer in a play. What shall we do tonight, my dear? Will we go out? Does it involve your lovely wives?”

“My wives are entertaining themselves for tonight, using the mummer’s cocks you gifted them.”

“They’re modelled after yours.”

“I know.” Ash had picked up a harness that had two of the mummers cocks attached to it and looked straight at Cat, with a cheshire grin. It seemed Ash had wanted to take Cat’s cunt and arse at the same time that night. “You and I are going into the Winter city.” Ned told Mellario, handing her a large cloak.

 

—————————

 

Ned took Mellario through a secret passage that led them out into the Winter city. It was alive with masses people hustling and bustling around. Ned kept Mellario close, It was unlike anywhere she had ever been. In spite of it being a big city, it didn’t particularly smell like one.

There was, of course, the pungent aroma of shit and piss that seemed to permeate throughout every street in the city. But there were other smells too, there were spices from Essos and Dorne used by cooks making food and selling it on the street. Above all was the scent of pine and oak, the city’s parks gave the area the pleasant smell of a forest.

There were people drinking in the street, performers earning their money with plays and daring tumbling acts. They walked through back alleys most of they way, more than once coming across whores serving their customers. Ned could smell Mellario’s arousal as she watched the whores getting fucked, no doubt remembering when Ned had done that to her.

“What kind of stone is is?” She had asked as they were crossing Markwell’s Bridge, noticing that the bridge seamed to be made from one, solid stone.

“It’s Garak-paste.” Ned had answered.

Before Mellario could ask further, a group of drinkers had spotted Mellario’s sizeable bust, not so well hidden beneath her cloak and called out to her, asking to see what she had. She opened her cloak fully and freed her breasts for their eyes, bouncing them to the drunken cheers of the men. Mellario kept her breasts out in the open and blew the group of men a kiss as she and Ned walked past. He was surprised when she bent over, lifted up her skirts and showed her huge, naked arse to them, earning even more cheers. She had laughed, gabbing Ned’s arm again as they walked away from the group, pressing her body to his side. After walking down some more winding back alleys, they came to a tall building that had a red door.

“In here.” Ned opened the door for Mellario. They went up some narrow stairs leading to a large room filled with lavish furnishings, cabinets and looking glasses. Ned could hear music and the unmistakable sounds of people fucking, clearly Mellario heard it too.

“A brothel?”

He didn’t answer her, walking over to a medium sized chest and opening it. “Put these on.” Ned gestured to the contents inside. It didn’t take long for Mellario to put them on as there wasn’t much for her to wear.

She stood in the centre of the room wearing only a leather collar with a small chain attached to it, black stockings of Myrish lace that went up to her thighs and special shoes from Lys that had a long heel, making her stand taller and stick her arse out more. In her hands she held a black silk blindfold and a small wooden ball attached to a leather strap.

“Before I put these on, I would know what you have planned.” Mellario asked. Ned walked over to her, taking the blindfold and placing it over her eyes.

“I’ve made arrangements with the madame. You and I are putting on a show for the patrons of this brothel.” He said in a low voice. “Open your mouth.” He ordered. Years of conditioning made sure she followed his commands without hesitation, Ned put the wooden ball in her mouth and connected the strap around her head.

“This is a kind of gag they use in Lys.” Ned informed her. “Don’t worry, the rest of the night’s activities won’t require you to speak.”

Ned removed his clothes and boots, putting on a mask so any in the brothel who might recognise him wouldn’t be able too. He took the chain connected to Mellario’s collar in his hand and tugged it gently. She moaned around her ball gag and started following Ned, occasionally bumping into tables and chairs as she was completely blind and wearing unstable shoes.

Ned led her through a long corridor, closer to the sounds of song and sex. Eventually, he opened a door, revealing a large, circular room with dozens of other people fucking in it. The scent of sex and incense was heavy in the air. There were beds and cushioned areas with men and women performing all kinds of sexual acts with their whores. In the centre was a raised platform with an open stockade, a bucket of water and a table standing on it. He looked up to see a balcony with the madame of the brothel, an attractive blonde woman a few years older than himself was watching. She nodded down at him.

Good, all is prepared. Ned thought, he tugged on Mellario’s chain again, pulling her into the light of the room.

“Can I have your attention please!” Ned called into the room.

The music stopped, most people looked up from their partners. Ned saw most of the men staring at Mellario’s naked body with lust in their eyes and most of the women hungrily eyeing his cock.

“Tonight this establishment has spared no expense for your entertainment!” That got a loud cheer from the patrons as Ned walked Mellario, stumbling around the room. “I have with me, one of the most expensive whores in Essos!” More people cheered and started smacking Mellario’s massive arse as she was led passed them.

The first few shocked her, but then she eased into the sensation and moaned loudly around her ball gag when she was struck. Ned could see her cunt was overflowing and dripping down her thighs. “And tonight! I’ll show you just how much punishment she can take!” That was met by even more cheers as Ned finished leading her around the room, then took her up to the stockade.

“I’m going to destroy you tonight.” Ned said to her, gripping her hair and pushing her down into the stockade. She moaned and quivered as Ned put her into position, her mouth drooling around her ball gag and her cunt drooling down her thighs. Ned made sure she was comfortable before he locked her in place, then he attached the bucket of water to just bellow her head. She had to hold herself up so her face was above the water’s surface.

Mellario shivered as Ned placed a hand on her back, snaking it down her body to the impossibly round globes of her arse cheeks. “Have any of you ever seen a finer arse?” Ned asked the patrons as he teased her cunt with his fingers, eliciting a squeal from Mellario as she tried to move her body to get him deeper.

Watching Mellario squirming to get his fingers inside her was certainly an arousing sight. Her arse cheeks quaked and clapped as she moved her hips. Ned suddenly drove his large fingers into her cunt and began to work them. Mellario let out a muffled scream of pleasure. Ned had to grab a handful of her dark hair to keep her head above the water.

It took a surprisingly short time before she squirted.

Whores and patrons were holding cups under her cunt, eager to capture her juices and drink from them. They all ended up getting sprayed by her and she came to an earth-shattering end. If she hadn’t been held up by a cushioned wooden beam on the stockade, she would have collapsed as her legs turned to boneless limbs, shaking and jerking in a mindless jig.

Ned let go of her head, her face dropped into the water instantly and stayed there for a time. Before she jerked her head up, sputtering and coughing around her ball gag, with a massive smile on her face. Ned placed his hands on her arse again, taking large handfuls of the dark flesh, stroking her backside as she moaned for him.

“I think she deserves some punishment now, don’t you?” Ned asked the dozens of people in the room. The crowed roared a resounding “Yes!”

Ned raised his hand high in the air, then brought it down on Mellario’s arse. The resounding clap! could be heard in all corners of the brothel, as could Mellario’s squeals. Ned watched as the shockwaves of his blow reverberated across Mellario’s skin, causing her fat arse cheeks to wobble pleasantly. Then he raised his hand high again and brought it down on her other arse cheek, rewarded with more moans and cheers from the crowd.

Ned looked over the dozens of people and saw them fucking their whores vigorously, their eyes fixed to Mellario. A voluptuous brown skinned, dark haired Child of the Forest making use out of the fact she looked like Mellario. In that moment, she seemed to be the most popular whore in the brothel.

Ned turned his attention back to Mellario, raining blow after blow on her arse. Ned was hard as rock as he struck her again and again, her cunt lips dribbling into cups the patrons eagerly drank from.

He would alternate which of her cheeks he struck, sometimes he would stroke them for a while and slip a finger into her cunt or arse. Increasing the punishment, Ned began to submerge her face in the water as he spanked her, her body thrashing as he turned her arse cheeks red. Then lifting her up at the last second, allowing her to gulp down precious lungfuls of air, before sending her back below the surface.

After what felt like a hundred strikes on her arse, Ned relented. He rested her head on the side of the bucket and took a step back, taking her in. She was deprived of sight, speech and movement. She was completely at his mercy and eagerly awaiting his punishments.

After a few minutes rest, she began to shake her hips tantalisingly, clapping her arse cheeks together to entice Ned.

“I feel she is ready for the next level of punishment, don’t you?!” Ned asked the orgy going on around him, to which, he got a predictable answer.

So Ned took a few steps to the table next to the stockade on the platform to choose his instrument. Ned nearly felt like he was a torturer choosing which tool he would use. Only he was the opposite, the purpose of every tool in front of him was designed to induce pleasure.

In the end, he settled on a wide, flat wooden paddle. Ned laid it on the lower back so she would have an understanding of what was coming. He dragged the cool surface of the paddle across her reddened skin, soothing her, making her shiver in anticipation.

His first strike was lower than usual, on the backs of her thick thighs. Mellario let moaned loudly, arching her back, giving Ned greater access to her. Ned struck her again with the paddle and again… and again. Ned targets expanded from Mellario’s arse, to her thighs and her hips as well.

Mellario was a glutton for punishment, she squealed and climaxed over and over as Ned paddled her lower body. Mellario was barely conscious after she peaked for the sixth time that evening, Ned stopped spanking her, patrons still trying to fill their cups with Mellario’s essence.

“I think it’s time we moved on to the main even now!” Ned declared, to repeated cheering.

He placed the paddle back on the table and picked up the biggest mummer’s cock that resided on it. Even though it was the biggest ivory phallus available, it was still smaller than him. With it in hand, Ned positioned himself behind Mellario.

He pushed it into Mellario’s cunt quite easily, and lathered it in her natural lubricant. Then he eased it out of her as she let out a long sigh. Then he pushed it fully into her arse, after being loosened by Ned’s cock so many times and her own lubricant, it could easily take the mummers cock.

Then, Ned loosened the bindings on the stockade and turned Mellario onto her back, it didn’t take any effort as she was quite a short woman. Her back now reseted on the cushioned beam, Ned refastened her bindings so she was still restricted.

Ned took in all the majesty of her gorgeous body, beads of sweat gleaming in the firelight. Her enormous breasts rose and fell on her chest as she panted, drool flowed freely from her gaged mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you in front of all these people.”

With the mummer’s cock up Mellario’s arse, Ned fully sheathed his cock inside her cunt. She peaked again, at the insertion alone. Ned felt the warm embrace of her cunt tighten around him as she squirted around his cock. Ned gave her some time to adjust to the sensations of being filled in her arse and her cunt at the same time.

Then he pulled back at an agonisingly slow pace, it took all his willpower not to hammer away at her like a madman until he had filled her womb with his seed a dozen times over. When just the head of his cock remained inside her, he thrust all the way in again.

It was an amazing feeling, going from open air, to Mellario’s molten depths. Ned saw her eyes rolling back into her head as he slammed inside her repeatedly. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, teasing yet also incredibly powerful. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through both their bodies.

Ned pushed her head back into the water as he thrust inside her. She was clearly surprised by this, as her legs instinctively kicked out on either side of him, then they wrapped around his waist.

Ned began to speed up his thrusts, his eyes drawn, as they always were, to the way her massive breasts bounced when he fucked her. His hand gripped her breasts, tweaking the piercings of her nipples, making them harder as she shuddered around him. She didn’t even struggle when she went under water now, she always knew Ned would let her up in time. Ned allowed her to rise above the surface, her wet hair sticking to her face.

He gripped to chain on her collar, pulling it tightly as she pounded her cunt. Mellario’s cries reached a higher pitch as Ned thrust deep inside her when he began to choke her with the collar. Ned’s hips were going at their top speed, they were a blur, going back and forth to Mellario’s cunt. She was making so much noise, Ned decided to remove Mellario’s gag

“What do you have to say to these people?” Ned asked, thrusting inside her.

“UMMMAA… UMMMM A ‘UUFCKING ‘HOOORR!!!” She screamed, unable to properly from words as her jaw was sore from the gag. “‘UCK MEEE!!! ‘UCKKK MEEEEEE!!!!” She carried on, “UUR THOOO MUUSHH BEE’ERRR ‘ANN m’YYY HUUUSHHBUUNNNDDD!!!!!!”

“So she’s a married whore!?!” Laughed one of the men as two whores sucked his cock.

“I pity her husband!” Another added.

“YESHH! YEESSSHHHH!!! I’MMMA MAW’EED ‘HOOR!!!!” The whole place burst into laughter, they stated splashing wine at Mellario as Ned fucked her chanting “MARRIED WHORE!”

Patrons and whores watched Ned and Mellario in awe and jealousy of both of them. Ned lost count of the number of times Mellario climaxed around him some time ago, but he felt the very familiar sensations building within him. He felt the tension in he balls and the pressure in his cock.

He thrust deep inside her again and with a roar, he sowed his seed in her womb. The people clapped and cheered around them as they watched Ned fill Mellario’s cunt. One climax was never enough for Ned though, he carried on going until he filled Mellario three more times.

After the third time, he released her from the stockade and she flopped to the soft, carpeted floor. Ned led her around by tugging her collar with his chain, she crawled behind him on her hands and knees.

“Friends!” Ned called again, “I have given you much this night and will give to you again! Here!” He pushed Mellario forward. “You may enjoy her for the rest of the night! But there must be no fighting! And if you harm her, you will be gelded!” With that, he left Mellario in the room as the patrons gathered around her.

“So…” She teased, sitting up on her knees, smiling. “Who’s man enough to take me first?”

Ned walked up the stairs to the Madame’s rooms, where he saw a beautiful red haired woman sitting naked on the bed, looking quite happy. She looked to be no more than nine-and-ten. He looked across and saw the madame on her balcony, watching what was happening to Mellario.

“I have provided the entertainment as part of our agreement.” Ned said, walking up to her, he looked down and saw the men and women crowding around Mellario, fucking her like their lives depended on it.

“Yes…you have. Very impressive…” The beautiful blonde woman responded. Then she pointed to the woman on the bed. “This is Ros, she’s very new here: a maiden. I thought you could break her in a little.”

Ned looked to the women in question, she was still smiling at him, his eyes drifted to her large, freckled breasts.

“I will take her…” Ned said, giving a toothy grin “and I’ll take you too.” The madame giggled like a girl when he hoisted her up into the air.

“But i’m not on offer!” She laughed and Ned threw her onto the bed, ripping her dress off, freeing her own breasts. Her meagre protests were replaced with moans as Ned fucked her and Ros together, while Mellario was fucked in the other room.

 

—————————

 

Mellario was sitting in her husbands lap, naked, rubbing his cock frantically. “…and then he let all the other men in the brothel take turns. It was even better than the time you hired that ship’s crew to fuck me. I passed out after a while, Ned said he carried me naked through the streets of the Winter city.” She said, looking into Doran’s eyes as she tugged his leaking cock. He was sitting upright on their bed, she had just returned from her visit to the North and was pleasuring her husband with her tales of debauchery.

“Gods…I married such a whore.” He moaned.

“On the contrary, my love.” Mellrio responded. “Whores charge money for sex. None men who fucked me in that brothel spent a single copper penny to fuck me.”

Mellario tugged Doran’s cock even faster, taking a pearl of his seed off it with her finger and licking it clean. She looked into Doran’s eyes as she swallowed his seed. “There was another time, when he gave me to his ‘Chosen men’. He did it as a way of thanking them for saving his life during the Greyjoy Rebellion. They protected Elia after Ned went to kill Aerys. There were six of them… They all fucked me every way they could…”

“Then you should fuck all of them as many times as you can, as a thank you.” Doran panted, resting his forehead against hers, eyes closed. “I hope, you drank your moontea after fucking all those commoners.”

“Of course, my love.” Mellario said, “But then it was all gone… and Ned was fucking me every day and night for another month after that…”

Doran opened his eyes, looking into his wife’s beautiful face. “What are you saying?” He moaned. Mellario started rubbing him much faster, she leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his ear, her massive tits brushing against his bare chest.

“It means…my love…” she whispered, “I’m carrying Ned Stark’s bastard in my belly.”

Doran climaxed harder than he ever had before. Letting out a loud, low moan, he sprayed his seed all over Mellario’s front. She continued jerking his cock as rope after rope of his seed shot out of it, drawing out her husband’s pleasure. After what felt like an eternity, it ended. Doran flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.

“How does that make you feel, my love?” Mellario asked as she leaned over him, smiling as she licked his seed from her hand. “How does it feel to know that another, better man has impregnated your wife?”

After panting for a time, Doran looked over to Mellario. “We’d better hope the babe looks like you. Or we’ll have to do a lot of explaining.” He chuckled and kissed her deeply. Husband and wife lay naked and laughing together on their bed, talking about what they might call ‘their’ child. If it was a boy, they decided to call it Ned, to honour Elia’s saviour of course…

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
11 years after Robert’s Rebellion

How to Tame a Dragon’s Fire

 

“Rhaenys!” Ned called, looking through the halls.

The entire population of Winterfell was on the search for the princess. Ashara was trying her best to comfort her, but Elia was beside herself with worry. Ned had been told It had all started when the children were playing together. Rhaenys was playing at being knights with Robb, Jon and Alysanne, they’d all found long sticks and were sword fighting with them in the godswood.

Sansa had been with Arya and Alyrianne off to the side, playing with their direwolf pups. Bran and Arthur were with Cat and Ash in the nursery. To hear the children tell it, fire had just burst from Rhaenys’ hand after Jon had accidentally caught her on the knuckle with his stick. The fire nearly hit Robb and Jon, who had screamed and thrown themselves down, their cloaks getting a little singed.

Rhaenys had tried to apologise, then ran off, screaming and crying. The children had run to the guards and people had been searching for her the rest of the day. Now was when Ned regretted having such a massive castle, it meant there was no end of places to hide in.

All the direwolves were sent to track her, Ned was doing the same. He had worked his way over to the Old keep, the oldest structure in Winterfell. With his enhanced hearing, he could hear a child sobbing up in the tower. Once he’d gotten in, it didn’t take long to find her.

She was barely three-and-ten, she looked so small huddled in the corner of a room, her face buried into her knees as she wept, scorch marks surrounding her.

“P-p-p-please d-don’t send me a-away.” She said between sobs. “Stay away, or i-i-i’ll hurt you too.”

“No you won’t, lass…” Ned assured her, edging closer and taking the child into his arms.

She flung her arms around his neck, “I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry” she repeated.

“Shhh, it’s alright princess. No one was harmed.” He tried to assure her. Then angled her teary face up to look at him, “I would never send you away… this is your home. One day you will be the Princess of Winterfell.” That seemed to calm her a little.

“Why did this happen?” She asked.

“You carry the blood of Old Valyria in your veins.” Ned said, proudly. “Some of those who do, can bend fire to their will as if it’s a part of them and, luckily, they’re completely fire proof.”

“My father couldn’t do it and neither could his.” Rhaenys sniffed angrily, she held no love for the man who abandoned her, her brother and her mother.

“No, the mages tell me the last Targaryen who could was Aegon the Unlikely. That makes you special, little lass.”

She smiled up at him, then hugged him tightly again. She might not be his by blood, but one day she would carry his name after she married Robb and carried his children. She was a part of Ned’s family.

“Come, now…” he said, standing up. “We’ll go see your mother, then talk to the mages about how best to teach you to control your gift.” Together they walked out of the Old keep, she held his hand.

Rhaegar may have been her father by blood, but Ned was the father she chose.

“So…If Targaryen blood can allow you to control fire, can you do it? You have Targaryen blood too.” Ned could only laugh at Rhaenys’ questions as they went to find Elia.

Power over both Ice and Fire would be power indeed…

Notes:

Well, that’s the next batch done. Hope you enjoyed them. Sorry for the wait. There’s likely only going to be one more batch after this, then we get to the main story.

Also, side-note. Damn! That was a good ep of House of the Dragon. One of the most emotional sequences of any show I have seen. I thought about having a chapter in the past where Aemma Arryn fucked Rickon Stark(father of Cregan Stark) to make him vote for Viserys, but Rhaenys fucked him and gave up her arse so he voted for her instead. After that ep I can’t do that to Viserys now.

Link to the Discord server where you get previews and other cool things - https://discord.gg/F9xPGrwanV

Chapter 11: Shorts part 3

11 years and 7 months after Robert’s Rebellion

Breeding a Bitch and a New Pup

 

“Are you ready, Stark?” Yennefer asked.

“Of course.” Ned answered confidently.

It was a clear sunny day in Winterfell, Ned and Yennefer were beginning their usual sparring practice in one of the training yards. The sessions were meant for Ned to practice using his ice magic. Both Ned and Yennefer were unarmed and unarmored, both wearing just padded shirts and breeches. Yennefer in her signature black and white, Ned in well-worn brown. Fang was sitting off to the side, silently watching them.

They would both only be using their magic against one another. Like a wolf, Ned began to walk around Yennefer, trying to get around her. She lifted her hand, blue energy crackled around her outstretched fingers and quickly arced towards him. Moments before it would have hit him, Ned generated a thick ice shield along his arm and blocked it. Ned grunted as he was pushed back slightly by the force of the impact.

“I would surrender now if I were you, Stark…” Yennefer laughed, “You’re clearly outmatched.”

Ned formed a pillar of ice on the ground next to Yennefer, that shot up and hit her in the side, knocking her to the ground with a yelp. “I believe we’re just getting started, my lady.” Ned smiled down at her as she got up with a huff.

They danced together in the yard, going this way and that. Ned would form an ice sword and swing at Yennefer a few times, she would blast him back with a spell. Their match was a series of quick exchanges, they shared blows and verbal barbs in equal measure. Ned sending icicles harder than steel flying at Yennefer, who sent fireballs and lightning back in return.

Ned swept his hand towards Yennefer and big shards of ice sprung from the ground, going from Ned to Yennefer. She managed to dodge away at the last moment, summoning snakes to attack Ned, which he froze solid.

When Ned had first gained his powers, he didn’t quite know how to use them, that had been over ten years ago. Now he was a master of ice and snow, a lord of winter and all its domain.

Eventually, Ned gained the upper hand, a beam of cold blue energy pushing Yennefer back as she strained against her shield-ward. Ned controlled the snow on the ground, commanding it to rise in a great white wave, sending it to sweep Yennefer off her feet.

The match ended with Yennefer half buried in snow hands of ice sprouting from the ground and holding her down. She was sputtering and wet, her cheeks flushed in the cold. Only now did Ned notice that her shirt was torn, baring what might be considered an indecent amount of cleavage.

“Will you release me?” Yennefer asked, submissively as she was held down. She shivered as Ned allowed the ice and snow to melt, soaking her in cold water. “Argh!…Very funny.” Yennefer huffed as she got up and started ripping the wet clothes from her body. Ned was surprised she would be so brazen as to be naked in the middle of an open yard, where any could see her.

“Are you not cold, my lady?” Ned asked with a smile, noticing her nipples were hard enough to cut through rock.

“Why don’t you warm me up.” Yennefer answered him, pulling his head down into a kiss, pressing her naked body against him. This was usually how their matches ended. The fight would get their hearts racing, then they’d fuck like wild dogs.

“It’s more than likely someone will see us if I fuck you out here.” Ned stated, pulling his shirt over his head as Yennefer unlaced his breeches, freeing his cock.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

It was true. Ned and Yennefer were no strangers to sex in front of others. One of the more memorable times had been when he was fucking Yennefer over his desk in his solar. Marei had come in to clean the room and saw them. They had continued as the maid diligently worked around them. Eventually, Ned had picked Marei up, threw her over his desk and began savagely ramming into her as she squealed in delight. That was probably the time I gave her, her latest bastard. Ned thought.

It was somewhat sad, Marei’s husband had never fathered a child with her, yet she had seven children and he didn’t know none were his. Ned felt guilty about it sometimes, then Marei would wake him up with his cock in her mouth and he’d feel no guilt at all. Marei’s latest child would be her third with Ned. His thoughts began to drift to how many bastards he actually had.

It was difficult to know.

Ned knew his first child was with Anya Waynwood, she’d often visited Jon Arryn when Ned was his ward. He made sure to fuck the older woman to within an inch of her life at every opportunity. When she had given birth to a dark-haired boy months after her husband died, they had said she’d been blessed with a last child to remember him by, but she and Ned knew the truth.

Teora Templeton, Marla Redfort, Jessamyn and Jossalyn Belmore had also regularly shared a bed with him, among others. However, those four had been suddenly and surprisingly married off and gave birth to dark haired children nine moths after he had shagged them. None had ever said anything to Ned about it, but he had always suspected.

Ned was sure he’d gotten more women pregnant than just Anna Henrietta during the Rebellion. There were Lemore’s three children… Mellario’s child… Sabrina’s... Perhaps one day, I’ll sire more children than ‘The Lusty Wolf’. Ned thought as he laughed to himself.

Yennefer taking off the last of his clothes and rubbing his cock to full hardness brought Ned out of his thoughts. He took hold of her head with both hands, looking into her eyes as he pumped his hips, fucking her hand. She bit her lip as her indigo eyes looked up at him, one hand cupping his balls as the other stroked his shaft. Ned leaned forward to embrace her again, taking her mouth with his own.

Their tongues danced in a wild battle for dominance, that Ned quickly won. His hands snaked into her curly, raven locks. Taking hold of her head, forcing her deeper into the kiss. When they pulled back for air, Yennefer’s eyes were wide and dark with lust.

“Ride me.” Ned commanded as they both got down to the ground together. Yennefer obeyed her Prince as she straddled Ned. With her feet on either side of him, she aimed his large cock at her cunt.

“How much do you want my cunt?” She smiled down at him, teasing his cock head with her lips.

“You’re trying my patience.” Ned said, sternly as he gripped Yennefer’s hips and brought her down on him completely.

“AARRGHHH! FUCK!” She screamed as Ned thrust all the way into her without warning.

Her eyes were screwed shut as she quivered on top of him. She bit her lip to suppress her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Ned lay back and admired her beauty. She had flawless, alabaster skin, indigo eyes darkened with lust and midnight black hair. Her figure was one men dreamed of fucking and women dreamed of having. She was thin, with large breasts, wide hips and a slim waist, giving her a truly divine arse. He gave her time to adjust to him, running her hands along her body as she breathed in and out on top of him.

“You know I don’t like it when you do that.” She said eventually, gently rocking her hips on his lap. “Your cock’s just too fucking big.”

“But you love it when I take control.” Ned responded, smacking her arse, causing her cunt to clench around him. She fell forward on his body, her large breasts pressing against his chest. Ned took hold of her hips and began to thrust up into her with growing force. Yennefer was shuddering as Ned thrust into her, the loud clapping their skin made as they collided echoed throughout the yard.

Her fingers coiled into fists as she pressed them onto Ned’s chest, trying to push herself up. Ned felt her cunt twitch and shiver around him. She was as tight as ever, looking into Ned’s eyes, panting in lust. She was on top, but Ned was the one in control of the situation. All she could do was quiver and moan, surrendering under the relentless, rapturous assault of Ned’s cock.

“Fuuuuuck” she whined as Ned made a particularly hard thrust.

She and the other mages of Winterfell were Ned’s harlots and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Ned grunted as he felt Yennefer getting tighter around him, her body was gripped with tension, he could tell she was on the verge of her climax.

“Fuck me! FUCK ME! FILL ME!” Yennefer screamed, her body shaking as she was raked with pleasure. Ned’s hands never left her hips as he continued thrusting, Yennefer writhing above him, her vice-like cunt proving to be his undoing as he thrust all the way into her again, filling her womb with his seed.

“Argh! Fuck! Get pregnant, whore.” Ned grunted as he deposited his seed inside his raven haired lover. Her body went limp, she fell on top of him with a sigh. Ned felt the moisture of her sweat on his skin as she lay panting on him.

Yennefer squealed as Ned turned them both over, suddenly he was on top of her and her back was on the ground.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He said, still hard inside Yennefer.

Ned pulled away from her and turned her over to her hands and knees. As she was still recovering from her first peak, she didn’t have the strength to hold herself up, so her large, pale arse was all that was in the air. Ned admired her round behind for a moment, before bringing his hand down on it.

“Ughh!” Yennefer yelped in surprise as Ned turned her arse red.

Then, he savagely thrust all the way inside her again, his cock kissing the entrance to her womb. She could do naught, but whimper as her cunt greedily accepted the massive invader. Ned groaned as her cunt massaged his cock, tighter and wetter than before as he set a brutal pace, plundering her depths. Yennefer came undone around him many more times, brought from one shrieking peak to another.

“FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR WHORE!!” She screamed as Ned brought his hand down on her arse, each clap sending waves of pleasure and pain through her skin.

“Excuse me, Sir?” Both Ned and Yennefer looked up to see Captain Harper standing a few feet away from them.

“What?” Ned asked the Chosen man. He slowed down, but didn’t stop fucking Yennefer, who’s head dropped down to the ground as she continued moaning.

“Well, it’s just… your wife, one of your wives are giving birth, sir.” Harper answered.

“I’ll finish up here, then we’ll go to her.” Ned smacked Yennefer’s big, pale arse, punctuating his words. Harper settled on a wooden barrel to watch them as Yennefer’s moans and coos got louder and louder. This wasn’t the first time he’d waited for Ned to finish fucking a woman. Ned was hammering into her at blinding speeds. He grabbed a fistful of her curly, raven locks, pulling her body up against his, exposing her large breasts to Harper as they bounced. Ned’s thrusts got harder and harder until the pressure was too much for Yennefer, who came to another world-ending climax, that shook through her entire being.

Small stones and dust rose into the air around them, crackling with magical energy, then burst outwards as a deafening scream erupted from Yennefer’s mouth. Her cunt, clenching tightly around Ned’s piston-ing cock brought him to his own end.

With a load roar, Ned thrust all the way inside Yennefer and inseminated her womb with his seed. He stayed there for a time, tightly gripping her waist as he spent over a dozen ropes of his seed inside her. Ned rose from Yennefer’s prone from and began to re-dress himself, Yennefer still naked and trembling on the ground, his seed flowing freely from her cunt.

“Should I call someone for her?” Harper asked, rising from his seat.

“Nah, leave her.” Ned responded, pulling on his shirt. “She’ll be fine in a bit. Let’s go to Cat.”

 

—————————

 

“You utter whore.” Elia smiled down at baby Rickon. “When I give birth, it takes more than a day and leaves me bedridden for a month… When Ashara gives birth, it takes hours and she’s needs a day of rest after... But, in the time it took for me to get here from the Winter city hall, you began birthing and finished it. How the fuck do you do that? In less than an hour?!” She asked Cat.

“And the druids say you’ll be up and walking before the end of the day.” Ash added. “It’s so unfair.” Ned knew neither of the women actually meant to insult Cat. They were just always astounded how easy her pregnancies and births were. Ned was amazed sometimes as well, it never seemed as tough for her as it did for other women.

Cat had often joked that the gods had made her specifically to birth Ned’s children as a way to explain it. She certainly did seem to be blessed. Few women could boast of birthing six healthy children before they were thirty, let alone having them all be easy births. Ned had only just managed to get to the birth in time. Cat was grunting and huffing on the bed and Redmane was doing the same in the corner, both giving birth. Redmane had managed four healthy pups for Rickon to choose from. It seems the gods gifted Redmane as the gifted Cat, Ned thought.

“The gods clearly favour me.” Catelyn smiled, reaching out for Elia to return Rickon to her arms. Ned lay next to her on the bed with his arm around her, it was only the four of them in the room, plus the wolves in the corner. He had sent Harper off to bring the children to meet their new brother.

“Do you think he will be a warg, like the others?” Ned asked, gazing down at his newest son, love filling his heart.

“Speaking of blessings,” Ashara laughed, “how is it that every one of your children is a warg?”

“Yes! They say a warg is more likely to sire wargs. But I’ve never heard of all of them having the gift.” Elia joined.

“We don’t know if all of my children are wargs.” Ned responded, trying to calm his women down around the newborn.

“You have half a million children and every one I have seen, is a warg.” Ash asserted.

“I don’t have half a million children...”

“If Cat had her way, she’d certainly birth them for you.” Elia joked, earning a snicker from Cat.

“Let’s see,” Cat started, “All of mine and Ash’s so far…Lemore’s three…Sylvie’s brood…” she listed.

“Two of Marei’s children are taking lessons with the wargs, they say another is too young, but will eventually...” Ash added.

Ned threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Alright, it seems you’re right, all of my children are wargs.” They all laughed together, trying to work out just how many children Ned had.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
12 years after Robert’s Rebellion

These Visions Sure Seem Useful

 

The air was close in the godswood and a red moon was high in the sky. The heady smells of incense and woodsmoke filled the air. Musicians beat their drums and played their wooded flutes as Children of The Forest danced, naked around the bonfires.

Ned and his women were at a ritual of the blood-moon, every time a red moon was in the sky, the druids and the Children of the Forest held a festival in the godswood. It was a time of merriment and celebration. Ned imagined the guests were thankful for the many bonfires, as everyone there was naked. The only covering worn by any in attendance was body paint and some leafy skirts worn by some of the dancers. Their nudity was a way of being closer to nature, how the gods made them, the druids had told him.

Of course, this led to more than a small number of them having sex. Some were fucking against the trees, on the grass, or by the bonfires. Ned could see Ash and Sylvie going at it near a bonfire close so him. The golden light dancing across their forms, their long shadows writhing together as people walked around them.

Elia was drinking ice wine on a log, Dorkk seemingly trying to convince her to let him capture her form in another statue. Gods, he never rests. He’s only just finished carving one of me fucking Ash, Ned thought. Holding her up in that position had become un comfortable for her after a time. So Ned had to put her down periodically and let her rest. It wasn’t the easiest thing, but Dorkk always produced great works of art for them. It was all too clear stonework was Dorkk’s one true love.

Cat was having a cheerful conversation with a Child of the Forest couple. The male was brown skinned, with green hair. His wife was pale, with dark hair. Ned recognised them as lord and lady Stonefeather, of the northern Wolfswood. Cat’s face and chest was still covered in Ned’s seed, from when she had sucked his cock to completion, after she found out they could have public sex at the gathering.

Lady Stonefeather collected some of Ned’s seed off Cat’s breasts with her fingers and put them in her mouth. She moaned loudly as she tasted Ned’s seed. Before Ned could get to them, they went their separate ways, Cat walking towards him.

“I have a feeling lady Stonefeather is going to visit us tomorrow night…” she smiled.

“And what does lord Stonefeather have to say about that?” Ned asked.

“He would like to watch…”

“I see no reason to turn him down.”

“Silence please!” Galadriel called out. The people quieted down and the musicians stopped playing. The beautiful, blonde Child of the Forest stood, naked as the day she was born, in front of the gathering. Like many women there, she was smeared with body paint, snaking across her skin in whirling patterns. “The blood-moon is high! The time has come for the Stark of Starks to see the visions!”

That lead to cheers from the people. Ned stepped forward to Galadriel, this ritual was the point of the gathering: when the blood-moon was full, the Stark would take a substance that would allow them to glimpse the future and the past. She gave Ned a small vial that had a strong smell. Apparently the concoction was made using mushrooms of a magical variety.

The audience took a breath as Ned drank the concoction, it tasted foul. For a few moments Ned was fine… the the world began to melt away and he was falling.

The world was a mix of vibrant colours and loud sounds. Stars wheeled overhead and every second stretched out into eternity. Ned was falling through space, seeing things he could not understand. He saw a stag, a wolf and a falcon fighting a three-headed dragon. He saw an overweight man with white hair and a hat sitting at his desk, cursing a pile of parchment that sat in front of him.

“She is muh queen!”

“All I need is twenty good men...”

Ned heard the voices rumbling through the shifting world. Ned thought It sounded like very bad dialogue from a terrible mummers play.

“I don’t want et… I nehva have…”

“I never really cared about them, innocent or otherwise...”

“Finger in the bum…?”

“You want the good gurl, but you need the bad poosy…”

“I know a killer when I see one…”

Ah! This is horrible! Let it end!

“Who has a better story, than Bran the Broken?”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Eventually, Ned stopped falling. He was standing in the godswood, but he was alone. He turned around and saw Winterfell’s weirwood tree, but all the red leaves were aflame. Even more shocking, was the monstrous, mammoth-sized wolf with six legs sitting by it. All were bathed in the red light of the bloodmoon sitting low and enormous in the sky. Ned bowed low to the figure of myth. There were legends about the creature in front of him. Some said he was one of the Old Gods, others said he was their messenger. It was said he created the first direwolves and gifted them the Brandon ‘The Builder’.

“You must be Fenric…forgive me…I thought… you were a myth…” The beast opened it’s maw, revealing the seemingly endless void of it’s gullet.

 

“Ỳ̸͖͉͎̭̩̔̄͌̈͜O̵͓̝͐̈́̾͆̎Ú̴̜̭̝̫̳̆̍̃…̵̘̰̟̗͚̦̹̈͋̃̽̈́̀̈͂͑̌̚̕͜͝͝M̵̡̨̡̛̮̟̯̯̝͙̪̄̌̏̽̿̅̿̌͑̑͘͜U̷̺̝͉̦͍̜͙̰͔͖̩͋̊̂̃͗̃̌̽̎̓͘ͅS̷͉̦̗̹̘̖̯̒̓́̂̚Ţ̶̟͉̞̞̉̑͒̍̎̕…̵̤͎̻͇̲̯̀̏̾͋͌̉̾̓͜͝͝͝͝S̸̬͓͕͖̳͉̙̱͉̖̖̺̺̐ͅU̶̧̡̧͎͖͚̙̣̪͖̔̄̅͝ͅŖ̴̨̡͈̜̩͖͇̰̯͖̪̪̖̎̇͐̈́͒̋̉̋̃͘͝V̶͖̟͖͕̪͔̺̿́̃̍̃I̴̧͈͔̯̮̯͙͎͔̥̥̪̪͌̋̆͊̓̏̈͛͜͝͝͠V̸̱̦̾̄̇̃̈́͋͗͆̊̇͋̚͝͠E̶͚͉͊͐̾̑͜” His voice was a terrible thing, It’s deep tones seemed to fill the world.

 

“How…? For what?” Ned asked the god. Fenric gave him no answer. He only blew a mighty wind, throwing back all round him. Then Ned was screaming and falling through the void of swirling colour again.

Eventually, Ned woke up on a pile of silk cushions. He leaped up from his comfy position and saw a wonderful sight. All around him were naked and beautiful Valyrian-looking women having sex with dark haired, long faced men with grey eyes.

All around him, people were fucking. He saw two dark-skinned, white haired women eagerly sucking a mans cock together as he lay down. He saw a woman with mismatched eyes, one dark blue, the other bright green, alternating between cocks. Ned recognised some of them from paintings in Winterfell.

“These are the women of house Targaryen…” he said quietly, not quite believing what he was seeing. Ned turned around and saw the two most beautiful women he had ever seen standing in front of him. They were near identical in looks: both were short, slim and very curvy. The only difference Ned could see was that one had three baby dragons with her, one sitting on her shoulder while the other two suckled her massive breasts.

“I do not recognise you.” Ned told them.

“I am the Dreamer…” the one without dragons said. “…and the dream…”

Then the two women threw themselves at Ned, kissing him and rubbing their naked bodies against him. Ned happily went along with them. First, they eagerly sucked his cock together. It was pleasure like he had never known before.

Then, as Ned was about to enter the Dreamer’s cunt, the world melted away again.

“Wait! Fuck! Noooooooo!” Ned shouted as he fell again.

He saw a dead stag with a crown on it’s head, as two more fought over it’s corpse. One was on fire, the other was seemingly being strangled by roses.

Then, he was flying over Westeros. There was a massive weirwood tree with his face. It’s roots were spreading all over the land, from the Wall, all the way to Dorne and sprouting tress of their own.

“Well that’s not subtle at all.” Ned said to himself.

Ned’s visions ended with all the creatures of the world bowing before the wolf. Then he woke to ruckus cheers from the people, he saw Ash, Cat and Elia were all sucking his cock together while he had been unconscious.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
15 years after Robert’s Rebellion

Riding the Lioness

 

BOOM!

Black smoke and fire shot out of the Uru cylinder as the loudest noice Ned ever heard echoed through the courtyard. Once the smoke cleared, Ned could see the wooden target that had been set up for them had been obliterated. However, the Uru barrel was embedded in the wall, twenty feet behind them.

“As you can see,” coughed Monfryd Gun, a dwarf from the Architects Guild. “This black powder can be extremely effective.”

“Too fucking right it’s effective. Thing near took my fucking head off!” Benjen bellowed, getting up from his crouched position behind where the Uru barrel had been when it fired. “Seems to me, it’d be just as dangerous for us as for them.” He continued.

“Ah…yes…” Monfryd answered, tentatively “There are still some difficulties we’re working through. But… you must see the potential we have here.”

“Yes… I do…” Ned observed. Monfryd and the guild wanted it to be used in war. Ned hated that he was creating more ways for men to die gruesome deaths for no reason at all on a muddy field, far from home. War is a terrible thing… He thought. But if this can help the North win battles, then it must be pursued. Monfryd had shown other things the black powder could be used for. He had made a ball with some metal filings and black powder, lighted a wick and thrown it at the targets. After a few seconds it had exploded, destroying most of the targets around it.

“What do you call this new invention of yours?” Ned asked, as Monfryd’s helpers dislodged it from the wall and carried it back to the right place.

“I call it: The Thunderer.” The dwarf said proudly.

“Certainly thunders, something terrible.” Benjen uttered, rubbing his ear. “How far is it accurate?”

“Oh… about seventy yards… But it used to be even shorter. With time, I’ll be able to increase it’s range by a lot more.”

“Alright then.” Ned said, “You have my permission to take more money from the treasury, Benjen will talk more with you about it.” With that, he left them to go to Winterfell’s beast pens, Fang trotting beside him happily.

The pens occupied a large area beside the godswood. The structure housed several stables and rooms on many floors to house the beasts kept by Winterfell and the Winter city guard. Ned went to the highest tower of the pens, to where the Great eagles nested.

Given Ned’s close relationship with Jon Arryn, he had requested the North be given their own Great eagles from the Vale to raise, Jon had agreed. Now the northeren wargs were raising the Great eagles and training riders for them too. Ned had chosen a Great eagle of his own to ride. It was a beautiful creature, white as freshly fallen snow. Ned named him Snowflake. He got to Snowflakes room and opened the door, seeing the massive white bird nesting in the corner, looking over the city through the open wall.

It cawed affectionately and walked over, nuzzling him as he fed the bird a rabbit’s carcass, giving another to Fang, so he wouldn’t feel left out. Snowflake and Fang eagerly gobbled down their treats. Ned took Snowflake’s saddle from the wall, then fastened it to the bird.

“I think i’ll take you flying today.” He said.

Ned mounted Snowflake, making sure he was properly secured, then urged him to the open wall. In a few seconds, Snowflake had taken them out and into the air, leaving Fang to trot out of the pens without supervision. Dragons were much bigger and more dangerous, but they couldn’t hope to match the grace of a Great eagle.

Both mount and rider sawed over the city buildings with grace and speed. As Ned flew over the city, he could see regular eagles and other birds in the air too. They were being warged by guardsmen, so they could observe what was happening in the city and report crimes. This had become a stable of any city guard in the north when it was discovered how useful it was to have eyes in the sky.

Eventually, Ned circled back to Winterfell, where he saw Jon and Rhaenys practicing their fire-bending at training dummies as Val and Ygritte Ryder watched his son intently. From the several scorch marks littered around the yard, Ned could tell they’d gone through quite a few.

He brought Snowflake in to a graceful landing a short distance from the two of them. Ned gave Ghost a good scratch behind the ear as Snowflake flapped his wings, flying in the direction of the pens. He shouted a few words of encouragement to the fire-benders, then walked off to the sauna, to wash away the eagle smell.

When Ned got to the saunas, he disrobed and found Mance Ryder in one of the rooms, having chosen to wash himself there as well. They both sat five feet apart, on opposite benches around the steaming rocks, talking of battles long passed among other things.

“You remember that massive crab on Pyke? It would’ve been the end of me, if not for you.” Mance chuckled.

“You could’ve taken it.” Ned stated, not wanting his friend to sell his own skills short.

“Perhaps… Yet you still saved my life that day.” Then Mance paused. “It’s a fine thing to have a liege like you, Stark.”

“You flatter me.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. They both looked up to see Cat and Mance’s wife Genna walking into the sauna wearing robes.

“I thought I heard you two.” Cat smiled at Ned.

“Hello darling,” Genna said to Mance, “Cat and I thought we’d join the two of you.”

And just like that, both Cat and Genna disrobed in front of Ned and Mance. The two women were exceptionally beautiful and very, very naked. The northerners were quite free with their nudity, their southern wives had grown quite used to northern sensibilities. Ned felt his cock twitch as his eyes raked over Cat’s and Genna’s naked bodies.

Cat was a few years younger than Genna, as Ned was a few years younger than Mance. Though, both women had truly exceptional bodies. They were both slim, with wide hips and massive breasts, Cat’s sitting a little larger and higher on her chest. A product of their many pregnancies, Cat with six and Genna with four.

After a few moments of standing naked in front of them men, both women smiled at each other and went to sit with their husbands on opposite benches. Ned put his arm around Cat’s shoulders as she leaned into him.

The four of them began to talk of more than just the battles they fought together, to include Cat and Genna. “If, before I married Mance, you had told me I would be comfortable sitting naked with others in a sauna, I would’ve called you a liar.” Genna laughed.

“I would’ve done the same.” Cat remarked, “It seems our northern husbands have converted us to their northern ways…”

“With their big northern cocks!” Genna cackled, Cat joining her.

“I’m sure Ned and I are one in the same in this: We count our blessings every day we’re married to you.” Mance chuckled, stroking Genna’s hair as she lay on the bench with her head resting in his lap.

“Absolutely.” Ned agreed.

“Speaking of marriages…” Genna said, sitting up on the bench. Ned trying not to stare at her large, swaying breasts. “It seems our daughters have taken an interest in your second son.”

Both Ned and Cat sat up, they needed to be the Prince and a Princess of house Stark now. “Yes, we have noticed.” Cat stated. “Jon does seem quite fond of them.”

“I saw them watching him practice his fire-bending in one of the training yards.” Ned added.

“Both our houses are old… and powerful. House Ryder controls the Western gateway to the Great Canal, making us one of the richest houses in the North.” Mance turned to Ned. “I know joining our houses in marriage would be of great benefit to us both.”

“I agree.” Ned said, “I say we let them figure out what they want. Jon could choose one… or both…”

“Seeing as he’s your son, I imagine he’ll want both.” Genna snickered. “Let’s see if they are amenable to that.”

“Do you have something to say about my husband, Lady Ryder?” Cat smiled at Genna.

“Only what tales my husband has told me princess.” She answered, “And now I see his cock, I know he wasn’t exaggerating.”

“What tales have you been told of my husband?” Cat asked, laughing now, causing her massive breasts to rise and fall.

“Well… there was that time with lady Darry behind the stables…” Genna went on.

“Ha! I remember that one.” Ned barked out a laugh. Him and Jon Arryn had taken Darry relatively quickly. Lord Darry had taken their men away to fight and lady Darry had been left without a man… It didn’t even take a day before she was on his cock like a mad woman. Ned briefly wondered if the babe she had birthed, months later was his. “What was it you lot called me after you walked in on that?”

“The five-legged-wolf.” Mance chuckled.

Catelyn threw her head back as she cackled. “Oh! Ash and Elia are going to love that!”

The four of them continued talking from some time, drifting closer and closer to talking about sex. Ned couldn’t help but notice Genna’s hands were inching closer to Mance’s cock and Cat’s hands were practically rubbing along his own shaft.

“I don’t know how any of you manage to walk after being with that…” Genna said to Cat.

“Neither do I.” Cat giggled.

“I think Mance is the perfect size.” Genna went on, earning a proud hum from her husband. “He’s big and very thick, but he isn’t monstrously huge like Ned’s is. No offence, Prince Stark…” she gave him a flirty look.

“That’s your opinion… I feel different.” Cat said, wrapping a hand around Ned’s cock. “I love that he’s insanely huge, that he uses this massive thing to batter me… and other women into submission… owning our cunts with his big… fat… cock.”

There was a pregnant pause for a few seconds, then Cat and Genna both jumped on their husbands. Both pairs of partners kissing and groping each other in a haze of lust and desire.

No words were shared as the two pairs began to make love, a few feet apart from each other. Ned looked across and saw Genna on her hands and knees, Mance thrusting hard behind her, her large breasts swaying with her movements.

Ned turned back to Cat, who was on her back on from of him, her glorious hair splayed out around her head. The moans from both women could be heard all over the room. Ned’s eyes were fixed on his wife’s massive, shaking tits. He leaned down and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, beginning to suck it hard, earning higher pitched moans from Cat.

“You do love my tits don’t you?” She laughed.

“I don’t blame him, Princess. They are divine.” Ned heard Mance call across the room.

“I do hope you complement your wife as heartily, my lord.” Cat responded with a smile.

“He’s right though,” Genna added, looking up. “Your tits are fucking perfect…”

After a few more minutes of fucking, Ned picked Cat up and brought her over to the bench Mance and Genna were on. He turned her to her hands and knees, they were mirroring Genna and Mance, with the womens faces inches apart.

Genna and Cat were gazing into each other’s eyes, mouths hanging open as they were both ploughed together. Ned’s eyes washed over Genna’s naked form, taking in her beautiful face, her golden tresses, her large breasts, her flawless back and fat arse. He saw Mance was doing the same to Cat.

Eventually, Ned and Mance locked eyes for a few seconds, then burst into laughter. When their laughter ended, they saw their wives had begun to kiss each other deeply, groping each other’s breasts as their tongues danced.

“How about a competition?” Mance ventured.

“Whoever lasts longest gets to fuck them both until he finishes?” Ned answered him, hoping he hadn’t just insulted one of his most powerful lords.

“If you think you can win, Stark…” Mance panted.

Ned knew he would win. When it came to stamina, none could best him.

They shook hands in agreement and resumed ravaging their wives. Cat was to first to be brought to a screaming climax, with Genna not too far behind her, bringing Mance to his end. The four of them stoped for a moment, Ned’s cock still looming intimidatingly massive and harder than Uru.

“You do not have to do this.” Ned told the Ryders, “The agreement was partly in jest anyway.”

“Ah… It was still an agreement and I keep my word.” Mance replied looking at Genna, who was biting her lip as she gazed at Ned’s cock. “What do you wish, Genna?”

She paused for a moment. “If I did, I would drink moontea…”

“Of course.”

“Are you alright with this?“ Genna asked her husband.

“I made the agreement. If it is to be done, i’d want it to Ned.” He answered, “He’s a dear friend, he’s saved my life more times than I can count, I owe him…” he paused, “Besides, it’s not like mine is the only cock you’ve ever had!“ he laughed as he smacked Genna’s arse, earning a giggle from his wife.

“Are you staying?” Ned asked.

“I’ll snooze until you’re done, i’ve always been easy to sleep after finishing.” Mance chuckled as he lay down and dozed off.

Ned looked down on Genna and Cat as he sat on a bench and they knelt between his legs, staring at his massive, throbbing cock. Genna was slightly flushed, drawing one of her plump lips between her teeth. She was clearly aroused by the sight of Ned’s cock, glistening in the light, coated in evidence of Cat’s pleasure.

“Go on… Taste it…” Cat gently urged her.

Genna’s lips slowly parted, her tongue reaching out as her mouth latched on to the head of his cock. Her eyes closed as she moaned at the taste of Ned and Cat together. Soon after her, Cat joined in. Ned could hardly believe what he was seeing. Both Cat and Genna were sucking his cock with gusto, their mouths making loud slurping noises as they moved in unison, their blonde and red heads moving up and down his length.

Cat quickly moved to take Ned’s balls into her mouth, leaving Genna to satisfy his cock. She took his full length deep into her with one stroke, causing Ned to breath heavily through his flared nostrils as his throbbing shaft pulsated in Genna’s throat. Ned could tell she was really beginning to get into it as her tongue ran around his girth and her lips caressed along his length. Her big, green eyes were beginning to water as she sucked him hard.

Ned took hold of her golden hair and looked directly into her eyes as she gazed up at him submissively. Cat was doing the same thing, her lips and tongue massaging his balls as if they were the most valuable things in the world.

Ned could see she was also groping Genna as they worked his cock together, grabbing her tits, fingers running over her cunt. Cat’s efforts on Genna were clearly being rewarded as Ned felt her moans vibrating from her mouth, through his cock.

“Fuck…” Ned grunted, holding their heads in place as he began to thrust his hips, chasing the pleasure they freely gave to him. 

“She certainly knows how to suck cock.” Cat observed, removing her mouth from his balls for a few seconds.

“Mance is a lucky man…” Ned chuckled, as Mance’s wife eagerly sucked his cock.

Cat pulled Genna of Ned’s cock by her hair, then took his cock in hand and slapped it on Genna’s face a few times. Genna breathed deeply, gulping down air and breathing in the musk of his cock, which was longer than her face.

After a few slaps, Genna’s face was covered in an array of fluids: Cat’s pleasure, Ned’s pre-seed and her own saliva. Cat drew Genna in for another, searing kiss, their mouths clashing together in a fight for dominance. The sight of the two, incredibly beautiful women kissing was near enough to make Ned finish right there.

After they pulled apart, they both went back to caressing his cock with their tongues. He held their heads in place as he thrust between their lips. Their bodies shook at the movement, their titanic tits swaying back and forth as their spit flowed from their mouths.
  
Ned felt himself close to the end, so he began thrusting with renewed fervour. He jerked the women’s heads back and along his cock, their lips were pressed together around it. His large balls would slap their chins occasionally as he kept thrusting. The noises they were making as he used their mouths were obscene, all slurping and moaning and noises he couldn’t describe.

Ned’s head fell back as he felt the eruption begin. He let go of their heads and they eagerly waited with their mouths wide open.

“Fucking take it!” Ned shouted as he covered their faces and breasts with his seed.

It lasted for minutes as Ned deposited rope after rope on the women. He made sure to aim a few into their mouths, making sure Genna got a good taste of him. After he was done, Genna and Cat began to lick Ned’s seed off each other, Genna paying particular attention to Cat’s massive breasts, licking every inch.

“Wow…” Genna panted as she knelt on the floor next to Cat. “Gods! That was…” Then she saw Ned’s cock had not softened. “How are you still hard?!?” She let out a small shriek as Ned lifted her up and laid her on the wooden bench.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Ned growled as he settled between her thighs and teased her cunt lips with his cock. He saw her eyes fill with desire as her skin flushed. Cat got up from her position and straddled Genna’s face.

“I hope you can pleasure a woman as well as you suck cock.” She teased, placing her cunt on Genna’s mouth.

“Well, Maege has told me i’m very skilled.” She responded confidently. “She, Tormund, Mance and I have foursomes every now-and-then…” She explained.

“Well, if Maege says it, then you must be-ah!” Cat let out a high pitched whine as Genna’s tongue dove into her depths. Ned’s eyes locked with Cat’s heavily lidded ones, she flashed him a smile and a wink. Ned decided it was high time Genna knew what his cock felt like.

Ned hooked his arms under her legs, hoisting them up. He looked over her beautiful body as she pleasured his wife, drawing moans from Cat’s mouth as she undulated her hips. In one, smooth motion, Ned thrust his cock all the way inside Genna.

Cat’s cunt muffled the majority of her scream, but she was still loud enough to wake the dead. Genna’s hands had already snaked around Cat’s thighs, but now she had them in a death grip. Cat pressed her hips down, to keep Genna’s mouth buried in her cunt. Ned watched as she leaned down and cupped Genna’s large breasts for his view. “Genna has amazing breasts, doesn’t she?”

“Marvellous.” Ned responded, “I’ll fuck them after i’m done with her cunt.”

With that, Ned began to withdraw from Genna, then thrust back in again… and again… and again. It didn’t take long before she climaxed around Ned’s cock, her shrieks of pleasure muffled by Cat’s cunt. Her arms flailed as she tried to find something to grip, her chest arched upwards, emphasising her very large breasts. Eventually her convulsions settled down as Ned continued to pound her cunt.

Genna’s cunt welcomed Ned with every thrust. He felt her tight, velvet tunnel massaging his member as it surged deeper into her core. Even through the onslaught of pleasure from Ned, Genna still worked her tongue around Cat’s cunt, making her coo and whimper as she climaxed. Ned drew Cat in for a kiss as they both used Genna. Their tongues danced together as both worked their hips.

Genna was shivering through her fourth climax as Ned surveyed her body. He large tits pleasantly bounced in time with Ned’s thrusts. He reached forward to pinch her nipples, earning more shivers from the lady of house Ryder.

“Gods! Your cunt is divine.” Ned grunted. “Mance really is a lucky man.”

It didn’t take much longer before Ned found his end. After a few more frenzied thrusts, he withdrew from Genna and sprayed his seed all over her front, letting out a loud roar “FUCKING TAKE IT!”

Of course, the trio continued for quite a while longer. After Cat had licked Ned’s seed of Genna, she had made her kneel down in front of Ned’s cock and masturbated him using Genna’s tits, whispering utter filth into her ear. Something she found thoroughly amusing as she was normally the one in Genna’s position, with Ash being the one behind her, using her tits to pleasure Ned. That ended with him covering Genna’s face with his seed.

After a time, Mance stopped snoozing and was quite surprised to see the three of them still going at it. He went back to fucking Genna as Ned ploughed Cat, making a jape that Genna felt much looser now, earning him a light slap on the chest from his wife as they laughed together. Mance spent himself inside Genna again and bowed out of the fun, letting his wife stay and enjoy the threesome a while longer.

The three of them tried a range of positions, ending on Genna lying on top of Cat, with the two of them in passionate embrace as Ned alternated fucking them. A dozen thrusts into Cat… then some more into Genna… then back to Cat… to Genna again.

“I want you to spend yourself inside me.” Genna whined as Ned thrust into Cat, spanking Genna’s arse red.

“Are you sure?” Ned panted, being close to the end of his rope.

“Yessssss!” Genna shivered, “I’ll drink moontea, I just want to know what it feels like to have you seeding my womb!”

Ned, ever the servant to his people, acquiesced to her request.

With one last thrust of his throbbing cock, he filled Genna’s womb with his seed, earning a guttural scream from the lady of house Ryder. The three people lay together in the sauna, naked, sweating and covered in each other’s release.

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————
18 years after Robert’s Rebellion

The Pack Survives

 

“Are you ready yet?” Elia asked, sitting naked at her desk in their room, gazing into her looking-glass as she brushed her dark tresses.

“I don’t really understand why you do that.” Ned responded, laying a kiss on the top of her head. It was a mystery to Ned why Elia insisted on brushing her hair before she changed forms. A full-moon was rising. That meant that werewolves would be forced into transformation. Ned wouldn’t be, as he wasn’t technically a werewolf, but he would not abandon the members of his family that had chosen to become werewolves.

When a Stark reached eight-and-ten, the option was made available for them to become werewolves. The same option was afforded to those who married a Stark. So far, all of Ned’s and Benjen’s children that had been able, chose to. So Robb, Jon, Alysanne and Benjen’s oldest son: Alfred would be joining Ned Ash, Cat, Elia and Benjen in the pack. Elia wasn’t married to Ned, but he had made the druids give her the offer so she wouldn’t be left out.

Ned felt Ash and Cat’s naked bodies being pressed into his back. “All of us being naked… Makes me want to do things…” Ash purred in his ear.

“I think we have time…” Cat joined in, rubbing her hand over his hardening member.

Ned turned to his wives, giving them both a kiss. “While I wish it were true, we do not. This is Alysanne’s first full-moon, she’ll need us to be there on time.”

“Of course, you’e right.” Ash responded. “I do hope the guards cleared our path properly this time.” As changing their form would ruin their clothes, they decided not to wear them on these occasions. That had meant walking through Winterfell to the godswood, naked. The guards were usually able to clear them a path, so there would be no people in the way. Last time, they had missed a couple of maids who’d gone beet-red at the sight of his cock.

Ned could hear the howling from outside, “It’s time.”

Ned led his women from their room, with Fang, Redmane and Starlight padding alongside them.

They quickly made their way to the godswood, without incident. When they got there, the transformations to wolf forms were a quick and easy matter, the benefit of years spent practicing control. Gone were the days of painful skin-changing that left them aching, now it was as easy as putting on well-worn leather shoes.

Cat’s wolf form was slim, with fur as red as her hair, she almost looked like a massive fox. Ash’s form was silver, she had an ethereal glow in the light of the moon, and deep purple eyes. Elia’s form was the smallest of the three women, though still more than capable of killing a knight in full enchanted plate armour. Her fur was a sandy-brown-tallowy colour, should have looked more at home in the sands of Dorne, than in the snows of the North.

Ned, Ash, Cat and Elia padded alongside Fang, Redmane and Starlight, moving towards the great direwolf pack that lived in the godswood. Beric’s direwolf, Roach, was already with the pack, he greeted them with a playful yelp. Roach was a funny direwolf, multiple times they’d found him standing on the roof of a house, seemingly unaware of how he got there and unsure as to how he would get down.

Ned searched for the familiar scents of his mother and father’s direwolves along with Brandon’s. Being near them always made Ned feel like he was with his lost family members again. He found them quickly. Racket, his mother’s direwolf and the mother of Fang, fussed over them, grooming their fur and making sure they smelled like they should.

Soon enough, Robb and Jon showed up, with Greywind and Ghost in tow. Cat gave a yelp and bounded towards them, her tail wagging. Robb suspiciously covered in Rhaenys’ scent. They think they’re so sneaky… Ned thought. It did not matter, truly. They were to be married soon enough, if they wished to bed down together beforehand, Ned would be a hypocrite to stop them. Not far behind them were Benjen and Alfred, followed by Warden and Uhtred. Finally, came Steelcoat, followed by Alysanne, walking stiffly, no-doubt still acclimatising to her new form. Ash gave her a few, comforting licks and stayed by her side. Once the whole pack had been assembled, the hundreds of direwolves began to howl in unison, singing to the moon and Fenric, the Old God and sire of all direwolves.

Ned led the pack to the cave they used to leave the Winterfell castle. The other side was deep in the forest and protected by magic. Only the wolves knew it’s location. They left the pups of the pack with a dozen direwolves to guard them in the main den. Ned led them through the dark cave. Ned was grateful they had such excellent vision in the dark, as the journey would be more difficult otherwise. It took them over an hour to reach the mouth of the cave, but eventually they were all free to breath the night air and run unrestrained through the dense forests.

They spent the first few hours just enjoying the freedom. The younger members of the pack had time to play under the watchful eyes of the older pack-members. The pack had come to a frozen lake and were having fun, sliding along the ice together. Alysanne spent most of it getting used to her new legs, jumping and bounding through the snow with Steelcoat and Ash, yelping with delight. Ned sat on a large rock, overlooking all the direwolves as they frolicked in the snow. He saw Redmane give Fang a playful nip on the tale so he would chase her through the snow. Cat and Elia were taking turns jumping into a hot spring pool and climbing out, then jumping back in.

Eventually, the time for play came to an end. The pack was well fed, but they still needed to hone their skills at hunting and the younger ones needed to learn. So Ned gave a long howl, to signify the beginning of the hunt. The first scent they came across turned out to be a group of beastmen living in the woods. They had what looked like human remains roasting on a spit. Ned quickly led to pack in to deal with the danger to his people.

It wasn’t much of a fight, the group was mostly Ungor and Gorherd with a few centaurs. There were barely a dozen of them. Scores of direwolves quickly tore the monsters to shreds, howling in their victory.

However, beastmen would not provide sustenance, a side effect of the magical corruption that made them monsters in the first place. Eating the flesh of a beastman would make man or beast very sick, even turning into a beastman themselves. So, the pack continued searching for their prey, until they came upon a very promising trail: a herd of mammoths.

It took the pack hours to catch up to them, they traveled many miles to earn their food. Ned had to keep looking back to make sure that Alysanne wasn’t falling behind. Sometimes it was hard for the newly transformed to keep up. But to her credit, she kept up with the rest of them, even leading from the front with her brothers and mothers beside her.

Eventually, they came across a wild herd of mammoths. There were well over thirty of them, a very healthy number. Ned could lead his pack to killing a few with a clean conscience.

The direwolves began by surrounding the herd. Mammoths were quite a bit bigger than direwolves and heavier too. However, with the numbers they had, they would certainly be able to bring one down. The mammoths closed ranks around their smallest. Ned and Benjen made sure that the children were only standing back and watching the seasoned hunters work.

Racket lived up to her name, barking menacingly at the mammoths as they tried to move into a tighter formation. The aim of the direwolves was to scare the mammoths into a stampede, then chase them until a few got too tired to run away.

The pack was well practiced, they would circle around the herd, snarling and barking. Charging in, then backing off. Enough to scare anything into running. After a time, it worked. One mammoth got scared and ran, then all the others followed and the chase was on.

There were few things in life that got Ned’s blood singing like a good hunt. He and Benjen were at the head of the pack again, yapping at the heels of the running mammoths, with Ash, Cat and Elia close behind. Direwolves had more stamina, so now it was a waiting game until a few mammoths got too tired to run anymore.

A group of wolves split off from the main pack, led by Ned’s father’s direwolf, Havoc. He circled his group around to the front of the mammoth herd, trying to scare them into splitting into smaller groups. It worked.

A group of three, large mammoths split off from the main group, enough to feed the pack that night. Ned gave a howl to the direwolves that were following him to chase the three mammoths. He sunk his teeth into the back legs of one of the mighty beasts, tasting it’s blood. Others were doing the same thing, to his mammoth and the other two.

Eventually, the three mammoths stopped running and stood their ground. They were too tired to run. All three lasted nearly an hour on their feet. Even though they had their tusks, they could only defend from one direction and were quite vulnerable from behind.

One of the mammoths sent Roach cartwheeling into the air with a flick of it’s tusk. Thankfully, the tusk did not pierce him the snow was deep enough to give him a soft landing. Ned saw Ash and Alysanne savagely tearing into the back leg of a mammoth, making it fall to the ground, strangely it made him proud.

All three mammoths fell to the ground and the direwolves howled into the night sky, to signal to the rest of the pack they had their food and where to find them. The whole pack sang together that night, revealing in the glory of their hunt under the moon.

Ned lay down in the snow, panting, cooling him down from the long hunt as he watched his children bound about in the snow. Ash, Cat and Elia came over and lay down beside him, panting into the cool night air.

Notes:

And that’s the last of the shorts chapters! Hopefully the next chapters will take less time to write as we’e properly in the story now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Discord server - https://discord.gg/vQrEA2ctdy

Edit - I made and edit to the wolf-pack short as I wanted to make Ned’s women werewolves too.

Chapter 12: Chapter 7

It was a cool, crisp early morning in the North. Though Ned didn’t feel it, as he was in Winterfell’s heated rooms. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, bathing the room in golden glow. The cockerel had just cawed, stirring the castle awake after a big feast and a bigger snowstorm. In the distance, he could hear the bagpipes playing to rouse the city. Their wolves were curled up together in the corner of the room, by the smoking embers in the hearth.

 

Ned was a little sore from the previous nights exertions, all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and forget about the world. But thoughts of sleep were banished from his mind when he heard soft moans, the sounds of women sucking and the feeling of multiple pairs of lips on his shaft. Ned cracked a smile.

 

“I would have thought Elia would be the one to get this treatment… Seeing as it is her nameday.” He lifted their heavy blankets, revealing his naked women sucking his hard cock. Cat was to his right, Ash to his left and Elia in the middle, between his legs.

 

“Devouring your cock with my favourite lovers is a great nameday present!” Elia responded, after she extracted his cock from her mouth.

 

Then, she gave him a dazzling smile and went back to work. Ned could only layback and enjoy the sensations of their mouths on him. He observed his three lovers as they worked diligently for his pleasure.

 

All three of his women were heart-stoppingly beautiful.

 

Cat was the palest of the three, with a light dusting of freckles covering her skin and long, gorgeous thick red hair that went down past her arse. Her breasts were the largest, but not by much. They were certainly the most perfect breasts Ned had ever scene, capped with small dark-pink nipples. Even after six children, she still had a slim figure, a thin waist that flared out into wide hips and a massive, fleshy arse that they all loved to grab. Ned saw her plump lips were lavishing his balls with love, gazing up at him with her bright blue eyes.

 

He turned to his other wife, Ash. Her large, haunting, indigo eyes were heavily lidded with lust as she was busy sucking along the left side of his shaft. Ned marvelled as his Dornish wife’s flawless, olive skin. She was a few shades darker than Cat, though not as dark as Elia. Her hair fell in a curtain of darkness over her body. Though her breasts were exceedingly large, with nipples, larger and darker than Cat’s they could not match the immensity of Cat’s breasts. However, she had both Cat and Elia overmatched in the arse department. Ash had been blessed with hips as wide as Cat’s, but with an even smaller waist, giving her the most delectable, bouncy behind in Westeros.

 

Then Ned looked to Elia, who knelt between his legs, her lips latched to the head of his cock. She was the darkest of the three women, with dark brown eyes and deep black hair that hung in ringlets down her back. Elia had told him she was nearly as flat as a board when she married Rhaegar. Ned could scarce believe it looking at her now. Her past pregnancies had given her the body of a goddess. She had large, heavy breasts, capped with nipples black as coal and a big, bubbly arse. She was a glutton for punishment, even more so than Cat. She’d beg Ned to flog her fat arse with all manner of tools and instruments.

 

All three of the women had ornamental piercings on their bodies, something they all enjoyed very much. On their visit to Dorne, Mellario had insisted they get them. Thoughts of the visit to Dorne and what they had done there made his cock throb even more.

 

Cat had used sapphires and red-gold for her belly button and nipple piercings, Ash used amethysts and silver for hers and Elia had chosen rubies and an orange tinted gold for her piercings.

 

Ned mentally chuckled to himself thinking of how their piercings had reflected their previous house colours before they had become his.

 

“Fuck…” Ned grunted as Elia drew him deeper into her mouth. She’s probably the best cocksucker of my three women. He mused. “This feels much more like a nameday present for me, than for you.”

 

As the women moaned, slathering his cock with their love, Ned thought back to the night before. It had been a feast that went past the hour of the wolf, to celebrate Elia’s nameday. It had been a typically rowdy, northern feast. Lords and ladies sung and danced, minstrels played and mummers tumbled to ruckus laughter from their audience.

 

Ned had been at the feast for some time before Ash, Cat and Elia had arrived, they certainly made an entrance. The three of them had walked into the hall, arm in arm. They each wore dresses that made Ned want to throw them over a table and plough them until winter came.

 

Their dresses were certainly… revealing.

 

The only difference between their dresses were their colours, each wore the colours of their house. All three of the dresses had long sleeves and were very low-cut, going down to their navels, bearing their bellybutton piercings. Only a thin piece of string below their cleavage held the two sides of the dress from splitting apart completely. Their dresses went down to their ankles yet also had a split running up their left sides, practically going up to their waist. The splits exposed the entirety of their bare, left legs.

On their feet, they wore shoes that Mellario had gifted them. They exposed most of the foot and raised their heels up a few inches, making them taller and their arses stick out. The entire hall had fallen silent at the sight of the three beautiful women in their revealing dresses.

 

Arm in arm, they had strutted from the opposite end of the hall, up to Ned and the high table, their jewelled piercings glinting in the firelight. It took all of Ned’s willpower not to fuck them over the table right there. After their display, the celebrations got even more rowdy.

 

As the hour grew later, the younger children were herded off to bed, with the older ones melting away with their own partners. Ned had danced with each of his women, multiple times. It had grown increasingly clear to him that they had intended to drive him into such a frenzy that he would fuck them in the middle of the hall.

 

Various lords and ladies had presented gifts from far and wide to Elia, which she had graciously accepted. As the night went on, the feast became even more rowdy and boisterous as more and more drinks flowed.

 

It got to the point where a drunk Sylvie and Lemore had leaped onto the high-table and began to strip naked for Elia, who cackled and whooped at the impromptu show. Sylvie and Lemore shook their naked bodies around Elia, pressing their breasts and arses into Elia’s face, who eagerly started licking them.

 

Things only got worse from there.

 

People started fucking quite quickly, Ned was sure he saw Marei on a table surrounded by a dozen, cheering men. Arthur was seemingly sharing Genna with Mance. Benjen and Rhea had made a quick exit, no-doubt to fuck in the privacy of their own bed. Sabrina walked out of the hall with her arms around three burley rangers. Triss and Yennefer were fucking in an alcove as a group of men watched and pleasured themselves. Elia, Ash and Cat had dragged Ned from the hall back to their rooms, leaving Sylvie and Lemore to make love on the high-table.

 

They had actually passed a few couples fucking in the corridors as they made their way to their rooms, laughing and kissing. Ned was surprised their dresses survived the debauchery of what happened when they got into bed.

 

“Alright girls. I think it’s time for the main event.” Ash said, pulling away from Ned’s cock.

 

“So, who gets to ride first?” Ned wondered aloud, looking between his women.

 

“Elia.” Cat responded. “It is her nameday after all.”

 

“You’re so good to me, Cat.” Elia said, leaning over to kiss her passionately.

 

The Riverlander and Dornish-woman shared their embrace, their tongues writhing together. Then they pulled apart and Elia pulled Ash into an impassioned kiss. Ned’s cock bobbed and throbbed in the cool air as he watched his women above him.

 

“I believe there is something else to you need to attend to, my dears.” Ned smiled up at them. All three turned to him and giggled.

 

“We’re sorry, my love.” Cat purred, laying herself down on his right side, pressing her enormous breasts against him, soaking in his warmth. He could feel the metal and jewels of her piercings against his skin.

 

“We got a little carried away.” Ash mirrored Cat on his left.

 

“Now I shall have my nameday treat!” Elia said, happily. Ned watched as she positioned herself over his cock and mounted him in one smooth motion. Both lovers moaned deeply at the sensations of becoming one. Ned could feel Elia’s tight, Dornish cunt clenching around him, squeezing him like a vice. “Haaaaaaaahhh….” Elia breathed, as she adjusted to being filled completely by Ned’s cock.

 

“God’s… Look at her… She’s so fucking beautiful…” Cat cooed as her hands brushed through Ned’s chest hair.

 

Ned could only agree with his wife. Elia was one of the most beautiful women in the realm. Her smoky eye shadow and dark skin made her the definition of an exotic beauty. Her little moans and movements were causing her massive breasts to quiver and shudder hypnotically. His hands snaked down Ash and Cat’s bodies, taking large handfuls of their plump arses.

 

“Ha! …Glad you’re enjoying the view…” Elia moaned, waving a few dark ringlets of her hair out of her face. Then, she looked Ned in the eyes, place dainty hands on his chest and began to move her hips. She began slowly, undulating them back and forth, taking only a few inches at a time. “They say they have the best stallions in Dorne…” Elia moaned as she rode him. “Yet… I have found the best stallion in Westeros in this room.”

 

“How grateful are you, that I told you to fuck him?” Ash asked, running her hand up Elia’s thigh.

 

“So fucking grateful…” Elia whined. She was beginning to bounce herself up and down his shaft now. “Fuck! Rhaegar wasn’t a tenth the man you are, on his best day. Or a TENTH the LOVER!” Even after all these years, Elia loved to disparage Rhaegar as they made love.

 

That silver-haired shit must have been truly awful to her… Ned thought.

 

Not wanting his wives to feel left out, Ned worked his fingers into their arseholes and began to work them. Ash and Cat moaned in response, clutching his chest and kissing along his bearded jaw.

 

Ned could see Elia’s cream covering his cock every time it withdrew from her silky depths. Elia was bouncing on him in earnest now, moaning and screaming as he penetrated her womanhood.

 

“FUCK! FUCK!! I LOVE YOUR COCK!!!”

 

Her massive, brown breasts were swaying back and forth, the rubies on her nipples and bellybutton glinting in the light of the morning sun. As her breathing became more erratic and her hips lost their steady rhythm, Ned knew Elia was nearing her end.

 

“Just look at those breasts.” Cat marvelled at the Dornish princess. She got up from her position at Ned’s side to sit on his stomach, face to face with Elia. Ash was busy burying her face into the crook of Ned’s neck, moaning wantonly as Ned brought her to a small climax. “You should have Ned’s child.” Cat stated to Elia, licking and kissing along her jaw. Elia’s stilled, but only for a moment, Ned could tell she was thinking of something. Then the moment passed and she went back to grinding on Ned’s cock.

 

You never stop trying to give me more children don’t you… Ned thought in wonderment. Catelyn was always trying to get Ned to give his lovers a babe to bare.

 

“There’s nothing that draws a loving man and woman closer like having a child together.” Cat explained. She took handfuls of Elia’s bouncing breasts, lifting them up. “Imagine what would happen to these if you were with child.” Elia was moaning louder and louder under Cat’s ministrations.

 

“You’ve… Ha! …Already impregnated the lovers of both my brothers. Mellario twice.” Elia moaned over Cat’s shoulder, looking at Ned. It was true. On their visit to Dorne, Ned had fucked a second babe into Mellario, along with Oberyn’s lover Ellaria Sand too.

 

“I’d be happy to do the same to you.” He responded heartily, thrusting his hips up to meet Elia.

 

Ned’s cock and Cat’s dirty talking became too much for Elia, who began to writhe and convulse as the waves of her climax crashed through her. Ned felt Elia’s cunt tighten to almost an impossible degree around him, it was a wonder he didn’t fill her with his seed right there. But Ned kept thrusting up into Elia, drawing out her climax, making her shiver as she collapsed against Cat.

 

“Whore.” Cat said as she looked into Elia’s eyes, her hand clasped around Elia’s throat.

 

Elia’s eyes rolled back into her skull as her lovers pleasured her. When her explosive climax finally came to it’s end, Ned took hold of her hips with his hands and started thrusting up into her, chasing his own end. Elia would have fallen to the bed if Cat hadn’t been holding her up.

 

She was pressed into Cat’s massive breasts, muffling her screams of pleasure as Ned’s cock kissed the entrance to her womb. Pleasure and pain mixing together in an intoxicating concoction to make Elia sore higher and higher.

 

Eventually, Ned felt the pressure in his cock become too much for him. With a roar that shook the timbers of his room, he filled Elia with his seed. He made sure to thrust as deep inside her as he could go, to make sure she got every last drop. Feeling Ned inseminating her, sent Elia over the edge again and she came undone around him. The four sweaty lovers stayed where they were for a while, basking in the warmth and the scent of their love.

 

“I think it’s time you two assumed the position now.” Ash said, rising from the bed and walking over the desk of draws where they kept the sex toys. Cat helped Elia dismount from Ned. The feeling of the cool air on his cock after the warmth of Elia’s sheath sent a shiver along his spine.

 

Ned sat up as Cat placed Elia in one of the two stockades they had at the end of their bed. Elia’s arse and leaking cunt were fully displayed to Ned, her arse cheeks made a tempting target.

 

“I could use some help, my love.” Cat purred as she got on all fours, her massive breasts hanging from her chest.

 

Ned smirked and got up from his position, to help his Tully wife into the other stockade. He locked the beam into place. Now, both Cat and Elia were completely trapped and exposed to whatever Ned and Ash wanted to do to them. Their large brown and pale, freckled arses quivering in anticipation.

 

“Right… Now I have everything.” Ash said, turning around revealing she was wearing two mummer’s cocks in a harness. They were perfect replicas of Ned’s cock gifted by Mellario when all four of them visited Dorne. In her hand, Ash held another mummer’s cock, like the other two and a bottle of lubricant. Smiling, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she sauntered over to the bed and climbed back on it.

 

Kneeling with Ned, she leaned up to kiss him, they shared an embrace for a few moments, before they went to work on their lovers. Ash put a generous amount of lubricant on Cat and Elia’s arseholes, before she worked a finger into Elia’s backdoor. She moaned in response, pressing her hips back to meet the invader.

 

Ned did the same to Cat, who mirrored Elia’s reaction. Ned then worked the mummer’s cock Ash had given him, into Cat’s arsehole. It took a few minutes for Cat to take it all, Ned eased it inside her slowly.

 

“Remember to twist the back end.” Ash reminded him, as she did the same with her mummers cocks.

 

Ned activated the implement and it began to hum with magical energy, making Cat moan and buck her hips. The mummers cocks Mellario had gifted them magically vibrated on activation. Mellario had informed them, they were imported from Lys, where they were used in the best pleasure houses.

 

The vibrating cocks had proved to be a great source of pleasure for Ned’s women, who enjoyed having both the mummer’s cocks and his own inside of them. Ned watched Ash as she activated the cocks, a faint humming could be heard as she inserted them both into Elia’s arsehole and used cunt.

 

“Ahhh… Ahhhh! …Fuck!” Elia shivered and cried out as she was taken in both holes at once.

 

The harness and the cocks were very well designed, they provided pleasure to both the receiver and the user during the act. Ash started off gently, easing in a few inches then retreating, only to surge forth again even deeper.

 

“Surely, you have not forgotten me?” Cat joked, shaking her hips enticingly as Ned turned his attention back to her, the mummer’s cock vibrating deep in her arsehole.

 

“How could I forget and arse like yours.” Ned responded, clapping a hand down on her pale behind, earning a squeal in pleasure from Cat.

 

“Please… more!” She moaned in response.

 

If you want more, you shall have it.

 

Ned got up from the bed and retrieved two wooden paddles from the sex toys draw. He returned to the bed, handing a paddle over to Ash, who began to use it on Elia, drawing cries and moans as she rained down blows on her arsecheeks.

 

The sound of the loud smacks began to fill the air. Ned joined Ash, striking Cat’s arse, thighs and hips. A melody of moans was sounding from Elia and Cat’s lips, both were quivering in pleasure as their lovers struck them.

 

 

Soon, Cat’s behind was as red as her hair. Ned formed some ice in his hands, then ran it over the reddened skin. Cat hissed and shivered at the feelings of the cold ice running over her, the mummers cock still vibrating in her arse.

 

Finally, Ned prodded Cat’s lower lips with his cock head, teasing his lusty wife. He smiled as Cat tried to press her hips back into him, trying to take his cock inside her.

 

“Pleeeeeeeease fuck me!” Cat whined, needily.

 

“As you wish…” Ned thrust his entire cock inside her in one go. Cat wailed and thrashed beneath him, but he held her tightly. “There we go… You love my cock don’t you?” Ned growled as he set a steady pace of fucking.

 

“YES! YES I LOVE YOUR COCK!” Cat screamed, thrusting her hips back to meet him. “BREED YOUR RIVER-WHORE WIFE!!!”

 

Ned laughed and clapped a hand on her arse, earning more moans from her. Their fucking was frenzied and animalistic. The loud clapping of their skin smacking together could probably be heard throughout the castle.

 

Ned looked over to Ash and Elia, who was in a very similar state to Cat: moaning and squealing as Ash fucked her from behind. Ned reached out and smacked Ash’s luscious arse as she thrust into Elia. His wife yelped in surprise, then leaned over to kiss him.

 

“First to make their partner finish?” She asked, clearly setting a wager with her husband. In their relationship, they often bet who could bring their partner to climax first. It was game they all enjoyed.

 

“You better pick up the pace then.” Ned answered, stroking his hand along Elia’s back, making her shiver and moan.

 

The race was on. Ned and Ash set a brutally relentless pace as they ploughed their partners. Cat and Elia were high in the heavens, being taken like a pair of bitches in heat.

 

“YES! YES!! FUCK US!! FUCK YOUR WHORES!!!” They cried together in hoarse voices.

 

After a time, they could do naught but moan in pleasure, their voices having broken under the strain. Ned could see they had both began to drool onto the floor, their eyes having rolled back in pleasure as their heads fell forward.

 

Eventually, Ned grasped the mummers cock buried deep in Cat’s arse and began to move it around as he ploughed her. Cat had screamed in pleasure, tossing and bucking. Ned could feel her cunt fluttering and clenching around him. He leaned forward to take handfuls of her massive, swaying breasts. Strong fingers tweaked tugged at her nipples, making her moan even higher.

 

Soon, her damn broke and Cat screamed operatic tones of euphoria as her climax wrecked her body. She reflexively tried to get up and move, straining against the stockade, her legs kicked out as her body shook. Ned’s front was coated in her squirt as the fountain of her cunt shot out a mighty jet stream.

 

Elia was not too far behind her. Ash brought her to a shaking climax as she spanked Elia’s large brown behind. Ned could see that the vibrating from the mummer’s cocks had brought Ash to her own end as well, from her flushed cheeks and hearing her beating heart. Ned was the last to find his end. He’d fucked Cat through her explosive climax. Knowing that he had lasted longer than the other three, he let forth another torrent of his seed.

 

“Get pregnant, bitch.” Ned grunted as rope after rope of his seed shot into Cat’s womb. His words and the feeling of being filled clearly sent Cat over the edge again. She was shivering in the after shocks of another climax when Ned pulled out of her, still harder than Uru.

 

“Gods, look at all that cream.” Ash moaned, leaning over to lick and slurp along Ned’s cock. “Hmmm, delicious.” She licked her lips as she straightened up.

 

Ned saw that she had removed her harness, leaving the vibrating cocks still buried inside a comatose Elia. Ash observed her comatose lovers for a few moments, then fixed Ned with a wanton look.

 

“Seems you and I are-ah!” She was interrupted by Ned throwing her down on her back, hooking his arms under her knees, pulling them up to her chest and thrusting his cock all the way inside her and stayed there. “Argh-Fuck!” Ash screamed, fisting the bedsheets above her head. Her iliac eyes were shinning with lust and life.

 

She looked up Ned, her plump lips parted, her massive breasts rising and falling on her chest with every breath. Ned could hear their hearts beating as one. The world seemed to slip away. There was only to two of them and the pleasure of their union.

 

“…I’m going to breed you.” Ned growled, with a finality that guaranteed it would happen. He felt her hot and silky walls clench around him even tighter. “I’m going to breed you.” He repeated, pulling his cock out, then thrusting it in again.

 

Ash threw her head back as pleasure overwhelmed her. Ned fucked her without mercy. She stained the bed beneath them with evidence of her pleasure. His hands went to her ankles, holding them above her head as his cock kissed the entrance to her womb.

 

Ned’s eyes were drawn to Ash’s mountainous breasts as they bounced back and forth, her nipple piercings twinkling in the light of the sun. They were already very large even before she had children, but now Ned imagined only Cat and Mellario had better breasts.

 

“FUCKING FILL ME!” She cried, as the bed rocked under the force of Ned’s thrusts.

 

Her climax shook her whole body. Felling her cunt clench even tighter around him, massaging his manhood almost made Ned fill her with his seed right there, but he kept his pace. Ash’s eyes began to roll back into her head as she moaned incoherently, panting.

 

Ned was held up by his knees and his hands pushing into the mattress behind her head as he savagely thrust down into her. Her soaking cunt fluttered and quivered around him as he thrust deeper and deeper. They stayed like that for a long time, Ned thrusting into Ash as she moaned and whined beneath him. Ned could tell she was getting closer to her next climax.

 

“I’m close!” Ash whined as her breasts bounced in time with Ned’s thrusts. He gripped her throat with his hand, holding her tightly. Her haunting eyes widened in shock for a moment, then a haze of lust fell on them.

 

“Only when you have my permission.” He growled at her through gritted teeth.

 

That nearly made her come undone right there. Ned’s hand squeezed her throat, cutting off her air as he thrust into her with renewed vigour. Ash struggled for breath as Ned rammed her, driving her to even higher peaks of pleasure. She looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to let her climax, even as they began to water with the lack of air. Ned’s balls were loudly clapping down on her arsecheeks as he ploughed her.

 

Ash gasped a breathless moan as Ned began to pinch and tug at her nipples, bringing them to hardened points, her abs flexing under his fingers. Ned gently tugged on the amethysts at Ash’s nipples, sending her mad with pain and pleasure. He felt her tightening around him again, just begging to be unleashed. Ned leaned close, so his mouth was at her ear, tears were streaming from her glassy eyes as she choked out soft, weak moans.

 

“You have my permission…” He whispered in her ear and let go of her throat.

 

The resulting sound that came from Ash’s lips was indescribable. She thrashed and shook as she came crashing down, clenching down on Ned so hard, he thought he might never be out of her. A prospect he didn’t have a problem with. She lost consciousness at some point during her climax, Ned gently brought her back with a few slaps.

 

He ended their liaison tenderly, thrusting gently into her cunt as he filled her womb with his seed. Ash’s face seemingly falling deeper and deeper into a state of bliss as she felt rope after rope of his seed fill her.

 

Ned stayed inside her for a few minutes, then pulled out of her cunt and stood up. Looking over his women, Ned felt a great sense of pride swell within him. All were glistening with sweat and panting from their activities, with his seed dripping from their cunts. Ash was on her back, Elia and Cat were still in the stockades, barely conscious and drooling onto the floor.

 

Ned stretched and yawned, before walking out onto their balcony. Leaning over the barrier, he surveyed Winterfell, with the morning sun rising in the east. Ned was glad the cold had no affect on him anymore, otherwise his lack of clothing would certainly be uncomfortable.

 

The dragons were circling Ice Dragon’s Peak off in the distance. Unlike the southerners, the Starks didn’t keep their dragons in a dragon-pit. They preferred to let them roam more freely with a large mountain near the Winter city as their home.

 

They’re probably feeding them right now. Ned thought.

 

At the beginning of each week, the dragon-keepers would give the dragons a few mammoth carcasses to eat. Of course, they still hunted their own food, but it was always a good idea to make sure dragons didn’t go hungry. That was when they started eating people. A loud knocking could be heard from the door.

 

“Come in.” Ned said, walking back into the room.

 

The door opened and Captain Harper walked in, along with his wife Ramona, the chief maid to Ash, Cat and Elia. She had come with Elia to Winterfell. She and Harper had quickly fallen for each other and decided to marry. A look of resignation fell on Harper and Ramona’s faces when they saw the state of Ned and his women.

 

“Ugh! I’m a maid to three whores.” Ramona said as she unlatched Cat and Elia from their stockades. “Just once can you not leave such a mess.”

 

“Calling your lady a whore would normally get you slapped and removed from your position.” Ash mumbled as Ramona started pouring hot water into a tub to wash them in.

 

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.” Ramona snarked as she helped Ash up from the bed and over to the very large wooden tub. “You’re as weak as a kitten.”

 

With a huff, Ash tried to lift her arm, then gave up. “Alright, you get to keep your job… for today.”

 

“The princess is very gracious and generous to a poor simple commoner like me.” Ramona curtsied sarcastically.

 

“Just once, i’d like to come in here and it not look like a whore-house.” Harper said, exasperatedly, as Ned reached for a cup of last night’s ice-wine from the table. Ramona, making a semi-disgusted face as she removed the still-vibrating mummer’s cocks from Cat and Elia.

 

“I’m a maid to whores and so are you!” Ramona laughed to her husband as she helped Cat into the tub with Ash.

 

“He’s not my maid.” Ned corrected her, leaning on the table but not arguing the accusation that he was a whore.

 

“The council is in session.” Harper told Ned, trying to get the conversation on track.

 

“Shit. That time already?” Ned asked, putting his cup and walking over to the cabinet that held his clothes.

 

“Yea, they’ll wait, but Benjen won’t wait forever…” Harper teased, leaving the room.

 

“Ramona, you can take the morning off.” Ned told her as she dumped Elia into the tub. “I’ll handle them.” He nodded to his women as they curled up together in the warm water.

 

“I saw the state you left them in. I know you can handle them.” Ramona laughed as she poured a bucket of water on Ash, Cat and Elia, who sputtered awake as the water roused them from their slumber. “Prince Stark.” She said in acknowledgment, curtsying before she left the room. Then Ned leaped into the tub as well.

 

They all washed each other before they got dressed. Ash, Cat and Elia wearing no small-clothes, to try and tempt Ned into fucking them during the day. Ned dressed himself in a grey tunic, breeches and well-worn leather boots.

 

 

—————————

 

 

The council chambers were large, with an old oak long-table in the centre surrounded by chairs. On the wall hung a detailed map of the North and all that was in it. The Winterfell council members all stood as Ned and his women walked into the room, their direwolves by their sides. Fang, Starlight and Redmane walking over to Warden, Benjen’s direwolf, sniffing each other, then settling down by the hearth together.

 

“Apologies for our lateness, my lords and ladies.” Ned said, as they got to their seats and sat down. “We… lost track of time…” The council members all chuckled together.

 

“I’ll bet.” Ranger Jory, the captain of the household guard said under his breath.

 

Winterfell’s chief steward, Vayon Poole raised his goblet. “Please allow me to begin this meeting by wishing Princess Elia a happy nameday. Winterfell is made brighter by your presence and i’m sure I speak for all here when I say we’re glad you have made this place your home.” The council rumbled in agreement.

 

“Happy nameday, Princess.” They all toasted Elia together. She graciously accepted their praise, though didn’t say much. Ned suspected because her throat was still sore from all of her screaming earlier.

 

“Now that is done with.” Vayon continued. “I believe our first port of call should be about the snowstorm that blew through last night. There are a number of buildings in Winterfell that will need to be repaired: the old keep, the beast pens and the stables sustained damage.”

 

“Aye, we had to move some of the beasts into spare rooms to keep them warm.” Thistle, Winterfell’s Beastmaster, cut in.

 

“Then we will need to hire from the builders guild to make repairs.” Ned said, then turned to Cat. “Will you meet with the guild masters later today and tell us what they say?”

 

“Yes.” His Tully wife answered. “The cost will not be dear.”

 

“Then onto the next order of business.” Benjen said, turning over to the next page in his book, a smile ghosted his face when he read it. “Ah yes. Lyanna has fulfilled the contract we sent out on the Striga that was attacking travellers on the eastern road.”

 

“Lyanna, truly?” Ned asked, surprised that she was that close to Winterfell and he did not know it. As his sister had chosen the life of a Witcher, she traveled around the North often, dispatching monsters ‘with deft skill and cat-like grace’, as she put it in her letters.

 

“Yes.” Benjen smiled. “She’s outside now.” Then he called out “Send her in.”

 

The guards opened the door and let Lyanna in, she was carrying a Striga’s head and a Minotaur’s horn. She was dirty, wearing chainmail with her Uru blade slung over her back. Her long dark hair was in a tight braid down her back. Her four she-wolves bounded in behind her, before going over to Fang and the others. Ned rose from his seat and walked over to her, gripping her in a tight hug.

 

“Lya!” He beamed. “It’s been too long.”

 

“You should visit more often.” Cat called from her seat, likely too tired to rise at the time.

 

“The children love when you come by.” Ash added.

 

“Yes it has. Yes I should. And of course they do.” Lyanna addressed all three of them when her and Ned pulled apart. “I was coming back to visit when I saw the notice, so I decided to earn some money on the way.” She explained. “The beast’s head, as ordered.” She planted it on the table. “And a bonus: There were a few beastmen in the area that I dealt with for you.” She laid the broken horn down next to it.

 

“I’m sure the travellers of the eastern road thank you for your service.” Ned began, “And if they don’t, I certainly do. You’ll be well rewarded for your deeds.” He nodded to Benjen, who threw a bag of gold coins to her. She caught it with one hand and bowed her head.

 

“Grateful as ever, Ned.”

 

Yennefer leaned over the table, towards the Striga’s head. “I would like to have this for my studies.” She said. As Ned walked back to his seat, he saw Lyanna’s grey, cat-eyes take an appreciative glance down Yennefer’s ample cleavage.

 

“Well… I’ll happily to give it to you… my lady.” She responded.

 

Ned had to stop himself from telling Yen to stop flirting with his sister.

 

“In that case. I will have another contact for you when we are concluded here.” Yennefer smirked.

 

Lyanna took her trophies and her gold and left the room, after telling him she’d be off looking for her many nieces and nephews. Ned saw Yennefer paying very close attention to Lyanna’s swaying arse as she walked away.

 

“Now I believe it is my turn to report.” Monfryd said, getting up from his seat. The dwarf walked to a long wooden chest and opened it, taking a long wooden and metal staff-like object from it. “This is a perfected, personal Thunderer.” He said proudly, laying it on the table. In the years since he had first showed Ned the original Thunderer, Monfryd had been tirelessly working, designing and re-designing weapons for house Stark.

 

He now had multiple weapons that used his black powder: the first was called a cannon. It was a massive metal barrel that shot out an iron ball in a tremendous explosion. One hit from the ball would kill a knight in full enchanted armour and many knights standing behind him. It would turn a normal man into red mist. The trouble was that a cannon was incredibly heavy and it required several men to load and fire a shot. It was also inaccurate, failing to be on target the majority of the time.

 

The next weapon he came up with was called a Hwacha, Monfryd said he came up with the idea after drinking with sailors from Yi Ti. It consisted of ten rows of twenty arrows, each just over three feet long, being held on a wooden rack. Using the force of blackpowder exploding, they would be fired into the air and have a devastating affect on force under it’s fire.

 

Like the cannon, it was ungainly and inaccurate. However, with two hundred arrows raining from each one, it didn’t have to be accurate. There was also an underlying problem with both: they had a tendency to explode if not handled correctly.

 

Monfryd’s new weapon was supposedly the answer. It was much smaller than a cannon or Hwacha and would be carried and shot by a single soldier.

 

“It certainly looks impressive, Monfryd.” Druid Luwin said. “How does it work?” Monfryd beamed at the question, Ned could tell he was clearly very proud of it.

 

“You see, the principle is the same as a cannon, but much smaller.” He began. “You need to use this stand, to help you aim.” He took out a long wooden stick that forked into two prongs on one end. “A shot fired from one of these bastards will knock the wind out of a knight in full enchanted plate and blow limbs of someone who isn’t.”

 

“But do they actually work?” Ash asked inquisitively.

 

“Yes, Princess.” Monfryd answered. “A trained marksman should be able to hit his target at quite a distance with one of these. As Captain Harper can attest.”

 

“He’s right.” Harper agreed. “Me an’ the lads took a few shots with them. They’re as good as Mon says. Though do hurt like hell to fire.” He said, rubbing his shoulder. “Perkins fired one and it nearly knocked his shoulder out of it’s socket.”

 

“Alas, this is something I cannot change.” Monfryd admitted. “I would need to make the force of the shot even weaker, for the kick-back to be diminished.” He paused for a few moments. “So… what do you think?”

 

“I think Tywin Lannister should never have weapons like this.” Elia said. Ned placed a hand on her shoulder. Neither of them had ever forgotten of forgiven what he had done to Aegon and tried to do to her and Rhaenys.

 

“I agree with Princess Elia.” Benjen added. “We should keep these weapons a secret. For now at least…”

 

“Are we not at peace?” Vayon asked. “The king is Prince Stark’s friend.”

 

“These weapons are terribly destructive…” Ned said. “But i’d rather the North has them and other realms do not. They shall remain a secret.” The other members murmured in agreement.

 

After that, the council meeting went on a little longer. Mostly inconsequential matters, yet Ned had to pay attention as he was the Prince of Winterfell. When their meeting ended, they all went their separate ways, Ash, Cat and Elia going to meet with ladies of the North who had come to visit Winterfell. Ned went for a walk through the Gallery of the Kings.

 

The seemingly endless vaults of house Stark stretched out before him. Very few were ever allowed entrance to them. Fang padded beside Ned as he wandered through the halls, looking at the artefacts house Stark had stored away.

 

He passed the row of crowns from each of the Stark kings. A tradition of house Stark had been for each crown to be forged by the king who would wear it. The quality of the crown reflected the quality of the man. That was the idea. If the Stark put effort and skill into creating their crown, then they would put that same effort and skill into ruling the kingdom.

 

Often the Stark who had to forge the crown would bring their siblings in to help. It was a way to make the Starks work together in a way that would strengthen their house. The same way that they would work together to strengthen the North. Each of the crowns sat on plinths with the name of the Stark who wore it underneath.

 

Though crowns were not the only things that house Stark kept in the Gallery of the Kings. The vault was also where they kept all the magical weapons and trophies they had won over the thousands of years they have existed.

 

Foesmasher was a notable example of one weapon house Stark had created. A hammer made from purest black Uru, it was the twin of Foebreaker, the hammer wielded by the head of house Baratheon, currently Robert. Jonothor Stark had gifted it to a Durrandon king centuries ago. It was Foebreaker’s equal, but only able to be wielded by a Stark who was worthy. The inscription was clear in the runes of the old tongue.

 

“Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall poses the power of Jonothor.”

 

He was certainly said to have power like no other. Stark’s who had wielded Foesmasher and Ice at the same time had been able to create snowstorms that could cover the entire North and beyond. Most second sons dreamed of being worthy of it, as they would not get Ice.

 

Ned had always wondered if he was worthy of the hammer. Sometimes the temptation was palpable. Yet he had never actually tried to lift Foesmasher. Perhaps a part of him didn’t want to have confirmation that he wasn’t worthy. It was of no consequence, he already wielded Ice and did not need another weapon.

 

Another notable Stark weapon was a suit of Uru plate armour. It was created by the son of a Stark and an Ironborn lady. They called him the Iron Man. In the armour, a man was practically impervious to all damage, supposedly even dragon fire. Though, none had been brave enough to test that last theory.

 

Ned walked passed an array of armoured suits to the Valyrian section of the vaults. There was a collection of Valyrian steel weapons, Valyrian books of magic and Valyrian armour. One sword in particular had Ned’s attention. A thin Valyrian Steel longsword that had been stolen by the ‘Lusty Wolf’ during his travels in Essos.

 

According to his writings, the ‘Lusty Wolf’ had fucked the Valyrian lord’s wife. Then climbed out of her bedroom window after she gave him her husband’s family swords. Ned planned to give the sword to Rhaenys when she married Robb. That or the sword of her namesake, Rhaenys the sister of the Conqueror. Ned knew the Valyrian steel sabre wielded by Torrhen Stark’s Targaryen bride was kept somewhere in the vaults. The trouble was that the halls were so vast most things were very difficult to find. However, Ned had taken care to find the other gifts he would bestow upon his future Good-daughter, a Rhoynar spear that had been given to house Stark by Nymeria herself. Along with a book of Rhoynar water magic, so Rhaenys would have gifts for both sides of her heritage.

 

Walking past the Valyrian section of the vault took Ned to where Brightroar, the Valyrian steel greatsword of house Lannister lay. It had come into house Stark’s possession when they had launched a small expedition to Valyria in search of treasure. Many had not returned from the trip and the few that did brought back little, except for Brightroar.

 

They had found it on the skeletal corpse of the former king Tommen Lannister. The Starks of the time decided the Lannisters hadn’t earned their sword back and so Brightroar rested deep in the Gallery of the Kings.

 

Given Tywin Lannister’s actions, Ned was very unlikely to ever give him the sword. Though, a part of him thought to gift it to Mance and Genna’s oldest son, Tytos. Or maybe melt it down, split it into two and give swords to both of their sons.

 

Next to Brightroar lay an even more impressive artefact. There were many Valyrian swords in the world, but the shield of Krato was unique. It was a pure Uru shield that could fold down to just a vambrace.

 

It was created by Krato, one of the dwarves most skilled craftsmen. It was a very convenient shield to use as it weighed practically nothing and could be folded away. Because of the Uru and the many enchantments it bore, the shield was practically indestructible. Ned was tempted to take the shield and use it for himself, but he did not. He wasn’t much one for using shields.

 

As Ned started making his way back to exit, he passed the horde of trinkets Theon Stark had taken from the Andals when they had tried to invade the North and when he pillaged Andalos. At the centre of the horde lay the seven pointed mace of Argos Sevenstar.

 

The Andal warlord had made the unfortunate choice to invade the North. During battle, Theon the ‘Hungry Wolf’ had beaten him to death with his own mace. Then, Theon lashed Sevenstar’s corpse to the prow of his ship as he sailed to Andalos, to raze it to the ground. Argos’ dried blood was still on the golden mace, even as it glowed faintly with magical power.

 

After Ned left the vaults, he decided to watch over his brood in the yard. He joined Ash, Cat and Elia as they were also watching the children from a balcony. Jon and Rhaenys were shooting fireballs at targets as little Rickon and Alaric cheered and clapped.

 

Beric was instructing Bran and little Arthur how to use a sword, with Robb being his helper. The younger ones always loved when their uncle Witcher taught them how to fight, then regaled them with tales of his adventures.

 

Lyanna was leading Ned’s and Ash’s oldest daughter Alysanne, along with Sansa, Arya and Alyrianne in their archery practice. All their direwolves were playing together in the mud, rolling around and yelping playfully.

 

There were times when Ned was overcome with grief. When he was crushed by the weight of all his loses and dreams of terrible war.

 

This was not one of those times.

 

Being in his home, with the women he loved, watching over his children laughing and playing together… Ned could not bring himself to regret all the horrors that had happened in his life. Because if not for them, he might not have what he did now, and he wouldn’t give up this life for anything.

 

Ned was torn from his thoughts by Ranger Rodrik Cassel bringing him a message.

 

“Pardon me, my Prince, Princesses.” He said, they all turned to greet him. “They caught a deserter from the Night’s Watch.”

 

And it was a nice day… Ned thought, grimly.

 

He donned what Cat had laughingly called his ‘Lord’s face’ “…Gather the children.” He ordered. “Tell them to saddle their wolves.”

 

“All of them?” Cat asked. “Alaric is six, Rickon only a year older…”

 

“They won’t be boys forever…” Ned answered, turning to her. “…and Winter is coming…”

 

 

—————————

 

 

It never gets easier… Ned thought as the head of the former watchman rolled away.

 

He had heard his words and saw no regret for his actions. The law was the law and Ned had to execute the man. Blood dripped down Ice’s dark blade as he looked back to his children. The were all watching, their wolves a bit further back.

 

When they were getting ready to leave, Ned went to the two youngest, Alaric and Rickon. They both certainly looked like their mothers as Ned knelt in front of them, apart from their dark grey eyes.

 

“Do you understand why that had to happen?” He asked tenderly, trying to teach his sons they way of the world.

 

“…Alysanne said he was a deserter.” Rickon answered.

 

“But you understand why I had to do it?”

 

“Our way is the old way.” Alaric answered this time, his big eyes staring up at Ned.

 

“The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword.” Ned affirmed. “In the south, they have their executioners to carry out the deed. It shields the lords from having to deal with the consequences to their choices. They forget what sentencing someone to death means.”

 

“It seems easier…” Alaric said quietly.

 

“Deciding to end a life shouldn’t ever be easy…” Ned said, putting his hands on their shoulders. “One day, you will be lords of the North and have to carry out judgments like I just did. You will need to be able to look someone in the eye, hear their testimony and decide if you should execute them. If you cannot do that, then perhaps they do not deserve to die.”

 

“Robb said he was brave, but Jon said he was afraid.” Rickon said. “Can a man be brave if he’s afraid?”

 

Ned looked down at his sons as he thought of every battle he’d ever had the misfortune to witness.

 

“That’s the only time a man can be brave…”

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned sat almost alone in the godswood, cleaning the blood off Ice, Fang was curled up beside him. He did it after every execution. Finding a quiet place to think after he had just passed judgment on a man.

 

Sometimes he could spend hours in the godswood, sitting beneath the weirwood tree cleaning his sword. His solitude was interrupted by Ash, Cat and Elia walking up to him.

 

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Cat said, holding a letter. “A raven came: Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him.”

 

Ned didn’t know what to think. Jon had seemed hale and hearty when last they had spoken, though that had been a decade ago. In his youth, Ned had thought of Jon as someone who’d never die. He was strong. He had been the last parental figure Ned had left.

 

“Your sister, their boy.” Ned said, finally. Thinking of Lysa and Jon’s son.

 

“They’re well, gods be good.” Cat answered, her eyes filled with pity when she looked at him.

 

“That isn’t all the letter said.” Ash added, solemnly.

 

“The… king is coming to Winterfell, along with all his court…” Elia said.

 

“Oh…” Ned uttered, knowing what that meant.

 

The Hand of the king was dead and Robert would need a new one…

Notes:

And that’s chapter 7! It’s been nice getting back to proper chapters after the shorts. I’ve finally gotten to the actual beginning of the story, the stuff before now had technically been prologue. As always, tell me what you think and I’ll see you next time.

Remember to join the Discord server if you want to see pictures of characters, more story tidbits, previews and to interact with others who enjoy the story. Every now and then I ask them about what I should add to the fic, so you could have a role in shaping the story to.

https://discord.gg/vQrEA2ctdy

Chapter 13: Chapter 8

Robb stirred awake after a restful sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw the dark curls of his betrothed: Rhaenys Targaryen. They were spooning together on his bed as they slept, with Robb’s arm wrapped around her front, clasping one of her massive breasts. Robb groaned as he lazily pressed his hips into her fleshy arse, earning a faint moan from Rhaenys.

 

Greywind was curled up in the corner of the room, with Rhaenys’ old, black cat lounging on the massive direwolf. Rhaenys had taken the cat with her from Kings Landing. He was called Balerion and he didn’t like many people other then Rhaenys. Though, the grumpy cat seemed to have a soft spot for Greywind.

 

Perhaps because he’s so warm… Robb mused.

 

He looked over his shoulder and saw Lynesse Mormont, formerly Hightower, lying on her back behind him. Her golden hair forming a halo on the pillow around her sleeping head, her large breasts rose and fell as she drew small breaths. The blanket had fallen to her waist, leaving the top half of her body bare.

 

Memories of the previous night washed over him: He had taken Rhaenys and Lynesse to bed and fucked them until well passed the hour of the wolf. His father didn’t approve when he and Jon fucked the wives of their lords. However, as Jorah Mormont had practically exiled himself, Robb chose not to worry about him.

 

Remembering how Lord Jorah exiled himself, he had been told his wife was visiting a brothel, he had burst in to see her eagerly fucking a man through a glory-hole. Luckily, he hadn’t seen that it was Jon fucking her. Distraught at his wife’s betrayal, Jorah had left Westeros and vowed never to return.

 

Their father had given them both, as they had both fucked Lynesse multiple times, a stern talking to about the consequences of cuckolding their lords. “A prince who acts like that is not a prince for very long.” He had warned them. They were younger and stupider. They wouldn’t have dreamt of saying no when a beautiful, older woman freely offered herself to them.

 

After that, Robb and Jon only targeted un-married women and widows for their conquests. Much to the disappointment of some married noble women. Robb chuckled to himself as he snuggled deeper into Rhaenys, who pushed back to meet him. They settled in for a nice, long morning snooze together.

 

The calm silence of their morning was broken when Robb’s younger twin, Jon came into the room. His large direwolf, Ghost came trotting beside him. Ghost padded over to Greywind, touching their noses in greeting.

 

“Morning!” Jon said, loudly, with a smile on his face as he went to the curtains of Robb’s room and opened them. There were times Robb hated his brother. The bright sunlight shone right onto the bed, making all it’s inhabitants bury their faces into the pillows.

 

“Argh! Fuck off Jon!” Robb groaned into the pillow as he hid his eyes from the light.

 

“Not today brother.” Jon chuckled. “Rhaenys it’s time for firebending practice.”

 

“No it’s not. It’s too early.” Rhaenys answered, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

 

“It’s nearly midday…” Jon informed them. Then silence.

 

“…Fuck!” Rhaenys shot up from the bed, wide awake. She scampered, nudely, over to the dresser to put some clothes on. Jon laughed as he laid a smack on her wobbling, naked arse. “Ow! Lecher.” Rhaenys mockingly stuck her tongue out at Jon, who laughed even more. It was their way.

 

Due to having to practice firebending naked, Robb knew they were comfortable with each others bodies. Robb had even shared Rhaenys with Jon multiple times, just as Jon had shared Val and Ygritte with Robb. They were twins, they could never betray each other. Jon turned back to look at the bed as Rhaenys hurriedly dressed in the corner.

 

“I see lady Lynesse shared your company last night.” Jon observered, Robb turned to the curvy blonde lying face down beside him, taking a handful of her pert arse.

 

“Yea, our whore put on quite the show.” Robb answered. “Didn’t I see you going off with Dacey, Val and Ygritte?”

 

Jon stretched his back. “Alys too. If you wanna feel sore the morning after, try fucking those four all night long.”

 

The twins chuckled together as Rhaenys walked over to them, wearing one of Robb’s shirts, a pair of breeches and brown boots. She leant down and gave Robb a kiss, also giving him a deep view of her cleavage.

 

“Love you. I shall see you later.” She said to him, the turned to Jon. “Shall we?” Jon and Rhaenys left the room, with Ghost quickly following them.

 

After a few moments, Robb rose from his bed and walked to a table, picking up a goblet of last night’s ice wine. He drank greedily from it, draining the cup and putting it back down before he returned to the bed. More accurately, returning to Lynesse. He pulled the blanket off her fully, showing her nude form to him as he got on top of her.

 

“It’s time to wake up now.” Robb told her as the head of his cock probed her cunt.

 

“Fuuuuck…” Lynesse moaned in response as Robb lifted her head from the pillow. He pushed her legs together and made her arch her back a little more, offering her pale arse to him.

 

SMACK!

 

SMACK!

 

CLAP!!

 

Robb’s hand struck her arse a few times. The pale flesh turning slightly red under his assault. Lynesse began to moan even harder, pressing her arse up, trying to take more of his cock deep into her cunt. Her put his hand on her upper back and leaned down, pushing her further into the mattress.

 

“You… are my whore…” he grunted, pushing his cock further inside her smooth tunnel.

 

Slowly, Robb felt himself go deeper inside her, inch after inch. Finally, he could go no further, his sword plunged fully into her sheath. Robb slowly, gently pulled back, then slammed fully inside her again. Lynesse’s moans and screams were muffled by the pillows as Robb relentlessly ploughed her. She thrashed and quivered as she came undone around him, bathing his cock in her warm nectar.

 

Robb continued at his rapid place, the loud claps of his pelvis against her arse-cheeks could surely be heard by the guards outside. The bed was rocking and straining under the force of their fucking. Yet Robb ploughed on.

 

He would not stop as Lynesse screamed and climaxed around him again and again. Not when she clawed the bedsheets and her legs kicked out underneath him and not when she begged from him to give her a child.

 

Robb’s eyes followed the pleasant ways her curvy body rippled as he fucked her. Waves of flesh would ripple from her arse-cheeks, through her body. It was a glorious sight to see: A beautiful, married noble woman submitting to his cock. Fucking another man’s wife gave Robb a perverse satisfaction. For a women to judge a night in his bed to be worth breaking her wedding vows she made before the gods… Few things could light a fire in him like a married woman who wanted to fuck him.

 

“Do you enjoy my cock, whore?!” Robb laughed as Lynesse quivered around his frenzied thrusts.

 

“YES! YES! I LOVE YOUR COCK!!!” She screamed in response as Robb started to spank her arse.

 

“Better!”

 

CLAP!

 

“Than!”

 

CLAP!

 

“Your!”

 

CLAP!

 

“Husband!?”

 

CLAP!

 

Robb’s question was punctuated by his strikes to her reddened arse.

 

“YES! SO MUCH BIGGER AND BETTER THAN HIM!”

 

“LOUDER!! They should be able to hear you at the wall!!”

 

“I FUCKING LOVE YOUR MASSIVE COCK! IT’S SOOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN MY HUSBAND’S!!! JORAH IS FUCKING NOTHING COMPARED TO YOU!!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!” Lynesse ravings were cut short as her words turned into a wordless shriek as another climax shook through her body.

 

Feeling her cunt tightly clenching around him again sent Robb to his own end. His thrusts quickened in pace until he felt the pressure building in his cock become too much. He thrust as deep inside Lynesse as he could go.

 

“Take my seed. Slut!” He grunted as he painted her inner walls with his essence.

 

After spending a few minutes buried up to the hilt inside Lynesse, filling her with his seed, Robb withdrew from her womanhood. She let out a whine as his cock left her gaping cunt, his seed flowing freely from it.

 

Robb got up and smiled down at his lover, as she quivered and drooled onto the bed. Now that he’d had his morning fuck, he decided to get dressed and train with his brothers. He found a clean tunic and pair of breeches to wear.

 

Calling Greywind to his side, he left Lynesse still naked and panting on the bed as he walked through Winterfell. The castle was alive with servants making preparations for the king’s arrival. It had been almost two months since he had set off from King’s Landing, so he would be due to arrive any day soon.

 

After a quick stop at the kitchens to get some food for himself and Greywind, Robb made his way to the main training yard. He found his uncle Beric and uncle Arthur personally instructing his cousins Alfred, Osric and Jeor along with his younger brothers: Bran and Arthur. Sansa, Arya, Alyrianne and their cousin: Jeyne were practicing archery under Hagman and Ygritte’s watchful eyes.

 

“I see the young prince has risen from his slumber.” Beric called out as Greywind padded over to the other direwolves.

 

“I awoke to find Balerion curled up on my chest.” Robb lied. “I dared not move, fearing the wrath of that terrible beast.”

 

“A likely story…” Ser Arthur chuckled. “Pick up a sword and let’s get to it.”

 

It truly was a pleasure to be taught by ‘The Sword of the Morning’ and ‘The Blood Wolf’. The two men were peerless warriors. The few times Robb had seen them sparring had ended in a draw or very close victory.

 

They said that Robb’s father was also a match for Beric and Ser Arthur, if not their better, but Robb couldn’t believe that. He’d never seen his father training, his uncles were training every day. When Robb was a boy, he had asked his father if he was as great a warrior as they said, that he had slain countless foes in battle.

 

Robb had wanted to see his father in action, begging him to fight uncle Arthur. He only remembered his father smiling sadly, saying wars did not make one great, that people tended to exaggerate and that if the Gods were kind, he would never have to see his father fighting. The boys trained with swords for a time, as the girls shot arrows at their targets.

 

The other wards of house Stark filtered through the yard, taking up training too. It was a tradition for the noble houses of the North to send their sons and daughters to be fostered at Winterfell. The future lords of the North would grow up with their prince and the future ladies would be able to find matches that suited them. It was also a good way to have a representative of their house at Winterfell should the need arise. Even more had come to the seat of his house recently, no doubt wanting to be there when the king arrived.

 

Robb was sparring with uncle Benjen’s oldest son: Alfred. He was a year younger than Robb, tall and thin. Robb was better than him at combat, yet Alfred was too clever by half. Bran and Arthur paired up with Osric and Jeor. They were sparring and playing happily together for a few hours.

 

“Alright, you lot! Come here, i’m going to show you something.” Beric bellowed to them. They all gathered around Ser Arthur, Sabrina and Beric, who held up a pouch and took some kind of sparkling dust out of it. “This is Dimeritium. Can anyone tell me what Dimeritium is?”

 

“Somehow, it disrupts magic. Throwing Dimeritium dust at someone makes it difficult to cast spells or magically transform into something.” Alfred answered confidently.

 

“Correct.” Ser Arthur said. “It can be used to disrupt a magical opponent. Sabrina and Beric will demonstrate how to use it in a fight.”

 

They all began to watch as Beric and Sabrina sparred. She would hurl magical energy at Beric, he would dodge and attack. Eventually, he threw Dimeritium dust at her. Sabrina fell, choking to the ground, her magic useless.

 

“Now that you’ve seen how it’s done.” Sabrina said after she recovered. “We want you to split off into pairs and try to use it one each other.”

 

Robb wondered what Jon was doing, as he picked up a pouch of Dimeritium and paired off with Alfred.

 

 

—————————

Earlier that day

 

 

Jon felt a heavy weight lying on him as he was roused from his slumber. He had yet to open his eyes but he assumed it was some woman, it usually was. He felt a body to his left and another to his right, they were likely to be Val and Ygritte Ryder.

 

Wasn’t there another as well, last night?

 

He had been betrothed to the Ryder twins for some time. They were to be married before the year ended. His parents had given him the choice of which to marry. They’d been quite surprised when he told them he’d been fucking both together and that he would marry both.

 

His mother, Cat had laughed, saying he was definitely his father’s son. As if the looks, build, mannerisms and voice weren’t enough of a clue. Eventually, the feeling of being trapped on all sides became too much. He needed to get up and walk around. So, Jon opened his eyes, blearily and surveyed his room.

 

To his right, his saw the wild mess of thick, red curls that only resided on Ygritte’s head. Kissed by fire. She was the youngest and most vivacious of the Ryder siblings, as well as by far the shortest. She stood at just over five feet tall, whereas Val, her twin, stood at five feet and ten inches. Ygritte often joked that Val stole all her height in the womb, as well as he mother’s hair. Right now, her face was buried into the crook of his shoulder, with Jon taking a generous handful of her toned arse.

 

He looked to the woman lying on top of him and found Dacey Mormont’s dark tresses. Jon realised he was still balls deep inside the warm embrace of her cunt. He gently thrust his hips up, earning a moan from Dacey as she nestled on his chest.

 

To his left, Jon saw Val’s straight, honey-blonde hair that went down to her waist. Much like her sister, she was cuddled up to Jon’s side, intertwining her legs with his, pressing her large breasts against him.

 

Wondering where Alys Karstark was, Jon turned to look around the room. He found her naked and splayed out on the table, with his seed dripping from her cunt. Ghost was looking at him from his corner in the room. Jon smiled at his white direwolf, who soundlessly put his head down and went back to sleep.

 

Deciding that he’d spent long enough in bed, Jon started to get up. Much to the unhappy groans of the women comfortably snoozing around him.

 

“Urrgh, fuck off…” Dacey grumbled as Jon shifted her off him.

 

“Jon?” Ygritte groaned as he climbed over her.

 

“Time to wake up.” He said, pinching her nipple, earning a moan and a giggle from his red haired lover. “What sort of sworn protector are you? What would happen if an assassin tried to kill me right now.” He asked her. As Ygritte was a member of the Ice Guard (their second best archer), Jon had chosen her to be his sworn protector.

 

“I’d tell them to bugger off.” Ygritte grumbled as she turned over on the bed.

 

Jon chuckled and walked naked over to wash at the basin, nearly tripping over Ygritte’s Ice Guard armour. His bare feet were certainly thankful for Winterfell’s heated stones. He turned back to see Ygritte, Val and Dacey were sleepily snuggling together on the bed, with Alys still on the table.

 

Deciding to leave them be, he got dressed, giving a kiss to each of them before he went, with Ghost following behind.

 

It was early morning and Winterfell was beginning to stir from it’s slumber. Jon made his way to the main hall, where he would find food and the castles other early risers. Daryn Hornwood, Cley Cerwyn and Alyn Seawolf provided lively conversation as they broke their fast together at the long table.

 

All the houses of the North sent their sons and daughters to foster at Winterfell. They would grow together, play and fight together. The hope was that they would form lasting bonds and close friendships. As far as Jon was aware, that seemed to be going well.

 

Their meal was one of Jon’s favourites: poached eggs with burned bacon and toasted bread with a healthy dose of butter. The cooks had added spices from Dorne that Jon’s other mothers had introduced to him and his siblings. He ate and drank with his friends as he savoured the flavourful food.

 

Ghost tore into a whole turkey and a lamprey pie that the cooks had brought out for him, though that still didn’t stop him from trying to nip food off Jon’s plate. Daryn mentioned that the king was likely to arrive within a few days.

 

“How’d you reckon that?” Jon asked.

 

“Father wrote a few weeks ago, saying the King and his party had stopped at our home for a time.” Daryn answered over his tankard of ale. “It takes over a week to get from there to Winterfell. It’s been nearly three since I received the letter.”

 

“But he’s got over hundreds of followers with him, slowing him down.” Alyn cut in. The brown haired Seawolf tore some bacon away and threw it to Ghost, who caught it in his mouth. “It could take them even longer to get here.”

 

“Care to wager on that, Seawolf?” Daryn smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ten golden dragons says they’re here before the week is out.”

 

“Deal.” Alyn answered confidently.

 

“Ohhh, what am I going to do with ten gold dragons?” Daryn chuckled. “Who’s that whore you like? Ros? I might pay her a visit and fuck her better than you ever could.”

 

“In your little dreams Hornwood!” Alyn laughed.

 

“I reckon the king’ll be a sight to see.” Cley said, trying to stop Daryn and Alyn’s japes devolving into a fight… Again. Though, they were drunk that time… and that other time..

 

“I heard the king and prince Stark fought back-to-back at the Trident, killing the mad bastard Rhaegar together.” Alyn said. Jon knew Alyn had always been interested in the war stories of his father.

 

Jon supposed his father’s story was one every son of a cadet house wished for themselves.

 

“Do you think the king’ll ask your father to be Hand?” Daryn asked, as Ghost snuck up behind him and stole an egg off his plate.

 

It was pretty common knowledge that the king would ask his father to be Hand of the king. What other reason would he come all the way to Winterfell for? Even if it made sense, Jon didn’t put much stock in common knowledge as it was often not as accurate as many would hope. Neither his father, nor his mothers had told him or his siblings about any offers the king had made, so Jon was happy to wait and see.

 

“I do not know.” Jon answered, finally.

 

Their conversation moved to other topics, training, the weather, eventually girls and Daryn’s apparent lack of success with bedding them. Jon cleaned off the contents of his plate and bid his friends a polite farewell as he walked off, with Ghost as his pale shadow.

 

As he walked through the corridors of Winterfell, Ghost started yipping and pranced ahead towards another hall. His mother’s wolf, Redmane trotted through the door and greeted her pup warmly.

 

Jon followed the wolves through the door and found his mothers: Princesses Catelyn, Ashara and Elia. Elia wasn’t married to his father, yet all the North treated her like she was, as she had been sharing a bed with him since before Jon was born.

 

His mothers were talking to Vayon Poole and the other stewards of Winterfell. Assumedly making preparations for king Robert’s arrival.

 

“Jon!” His mothers beamed as they walked over to him, drawing him into their arms. Jon towered over his mothers, certainly a strange feeling as he’d spent most of the beginning of his life looking up at them.

 

“You’re up early.” Elia observed.

 

“Yea. Yennefer wanted Rhae and me to practice out firebending early.” Jon explained.

 

“In that case, son of mine. You should go rouse Rhaenys and quickly.” Catelyn looked up at him, her hand on his shoulder.

 

“You must leave us to deal with all of Vayon’s questions about where to seat people and what to put in their rooms…” she smirked. “You know, boring stuff.”

 

“Now go. Don’t keep Yen waiting.” Ashara urged him. Jon bid his mothers farewell and turned to leave. As he walked through the door, he heard Ashara laugh “Yen never likes to be kept waiting…” earning a small laugh from his other mothers.

 

Eventually, Jon made his way back to the family wing of Winterfell’s main keep. Walking towards the big oaken door of Robb’s room, he passed two members of the Ice Guard standing at their sentry duty.

 

Jon opened the door to find Robb and Rhaenys still asleep on their bed, with quite a busty blonde woman beside them. They certainly have a type. Ghost padded over to Greywind, greeting his littermate by bumping their noses together.

 

“Morning!” Jon said, with a smile on his face as he went to the curtains and opened them them wide, letting the sunlight hit the bed. It was funny seeing them try to bury themselves in the pillows to hide from the light.

 

“Argh! Fuck off Jon!” he heard Robb groan into his pillow.

 

“Not today, brother.” Jon chuckled. Then Jon directed his attention to Rhaenys. “It’s time for firebending practice.”

 

“No it’s not. It’s too early.” Rhaenys answered, burying her face deeper into the pillow. Jon watched as her motions cause her sizeable arse to wobble and shake pleasantly.

 

“It’s nearly midday…” Jon informed them. Then silence.

 

“…Fuck!” Rhaenys shot up from the bed, wide awake, bearing her massive breasts to his eyes. She scampered, nudely, over to the dresser to put some clothes on. Jon decided to have a bit of fun with her, he laid a smack on her wobbling, naked arse. “Ow! Lecher.” Rhaenys mockingly stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh even more. As Rhaenys speedily tried to get dressed, Jon turned to look at the bed.

 

“I see lady Lynesse shared your company last night.” He observered, as Robb turned to the curvy blonde lying face down beside him, taking a handful of her pert arse.

 

“Yea, our whore put on quite the show.” Robb answered, smiling. “Didn’t I see you going off with Dacey, Val and Ygritte?”

 

That was certainly a fun night. Jon stretched his back, trying to reduce the soreness. “Alys too. If you wanna feel sore the morning after, try fucking those four all night long.”

 

The twins chuckled together as Rhaenys walked over to them. Jon saw she was wearing one of Robb’s shirts, a pair of breeches and brown boots. She leant down and gave Robb a kiss, giving Jon a nice view of her bent-over arse.

 

“Love you. I’ll see you later.” She said to Robb, then turned to Jon. “Shall we?” Jon and Rhaenys left the room, with Ghost quickly following them.

 

Rhaenys strutted beside Jon as they walked to the firebending yard. “If you win, i’ll suck your cock.” Rhaenys wagered as they got to the yard. “If I win… you’ll give me a ‘Lord’s kiss’” she laughed. It was a fair bet, one that they made often enough. Jon liked to think he won as often as he lost.

 

“Deal.”

 

They both walked to Yennefer, who stood with Triss in the centre of the courtyard. The firebending yard had high walls and no wood in the area. The ground was mostly sand and dirt, to cushion their falls. Jon and Rhaenys greeted the mages politely, then they began their sparing.

 

First they would both take off their clothes, as they would be burned away during the match. A lucky result of their firebending skill was that they were completely immune to fire. Rhaenys could stand under a stream of fire from her dragon, Salvation and come out completely fine. The cold was bracing, but they’d soon be warmed up.

 

Given that they were the only two people in Westeros that they couldn’t really hurt with their fire, they naturally had to practice together. They stood a few feet apart from each other. Jon’s eyes followed the ample curves of Rhaenys’ body, as she cocked her hip to the side with a smirk.

 

She was one of the most beautiful women in the world, being both Targaryen and Dornish. She had the classic Dornish look of flawless golden-brown skin, dark eyes and dark hair that fell in ringlets down her back. Like a lot of other Dornish women, she had her coal-black nipples pierced. Nipples that sat on truly massive breasts, that bounced and swayed with every tiny movement.

 

From her martial exercises, Rhaenys was quite toned, with strong arms, legs and a flat stomach. She had a small waist that flared out into wide, womanly hips and a peachy behind. Seeing Rhaenys naked never failed to make his cock twitch.

 

A fact Rhaenys was clearly aware of as the smirked, licking her lips as she eyed his body, with a particular focus on his cock. Jon felt a particular swell of pride. He knew he was in good shape. He was nearly as tall has his father and well muscled from years in the training yard.

 

Though he knew Robb had more luck with the women, he also knew they considered him to be quite attractive. Guess i’m lucky Val and Ygritte got to me as early as they did, he mused. His Ryder women certainly didn’t mind him fucking other women too, but they both seemed quite against him romancing others.

 

“If you’ve finished ogling each other, you’re meant to start sparring now.” Triss called out, from behind the magic barrier she and Yennefer shielded themselves with.

 

They began.

 

Rhaenys took the initiative, sending bursts of flame at Jon with a series of punches and kicks. Jon felt warmed by the fire as he was pushed back. Trying to flank her, he used the force of his fire to thrust him to the side, allowing him to catch her off balance.

 

Even after so many practices, it took some effort for his eyes not to be fixed to her bouncing curves. His plan worked, he sent Rhaenys stumbling back with a stream of fire directed at her head.

 

Then Jon felt the world shift as her fire hit his ankles, knocking him off his feet. Rhaenys kept him suspended in the air for a second, then dropped him to the ground, laughing. With a kick, sending a burst of fire, Jon knocked her to the ground too.

 

They both flipped to their feet together and reengaged. They carried on for some time, as their bouts often did. The balance of the fight tipping to one side, then the other. Both were sweating and panting towards the end of their match.

 

Eventually, Jon knocked Rhaenys off her feet for the final time. She yielded as she knelt in front of him, his cock gaining hardness as it inched closer to her lips.

 

Jon felt her plump lips latched to his cock head, giving his shaft a long kiss. Jon looked up to see if Yennefer and Triss were still there. It appeared they had gone some time ago. Doesn’t really matter, we’ve been sparing so long we don’t need them to watch anymore.  After a few long minutes, Rhaenys pulled away from his cock as it bobbed in hardness, licking her lips.

 

“I believe I promised to suck your cock…” Rhaenys looked up at him with lidded, submissive eyes.

 

“I believe you did…”

 

“Come on.” Rhaenys got to her feet and walked to the pile of her clothes. “We’ll go to the old storeroom.”

 

They retrieved their clothes and walked to one of Winterfell’s old armouries. The walls were lined with racks containing old swords, axes and shields, some racks lining up the middle building adorned with long spears. It was dusty and old, but most importantly: it was private.

 

They left Ghost to guard the door. Rhaenys practically attacked him when they got into the room. Jon had nearly a full foot of height on her, yet she pushed him against a wooden wall and kissed him passionately.

 

Jon watched with a satisfied smile as Rhaenys ripped her shirt open, freeing her massive breasts for him to grope and play with. His fingers latched on to her sizeable bronze mounds, tweaking her dark nipples, tugging the piercings , drawing small moans from her mouth.

 

After their tongues danced for a time, Rhaenys knelt down and undid his breaches, freeing his hard cock. The large pillar of flesh hit her in the face, much to Jon’s amusement. The Dornish beauty took him by the base of his shaft and began to gently rub his cock.

 

“Such a lovely fat cock.” Rhaenys marvelled at his length. “Honestly, it’s not surprising I can’t walk after you and Robb take me together.”

 

“I don’t hear you complaining.” He barked out a laugh. “Usually it’s all ‘Harder!’, ‘Please fuck me!’ or ‘I’m such a bad slut! Punish me!” His voice went high as he tried to do an impression of Rhaenys. She smiled and giggled as she pressed kisses along his cock.

 

“Ohh, i’m not complaining. I looove being numb after you two studs fuck me in both holes like a common whore.” She cackled.

 

“Less talking. More sucking.” Jon urged her. Not content to just let her rub and kiss his cock a little.

 

“As you command m’lor-urgh!” In the middle of her ‘common whore’ act, Jon shoved his cock in her open mouth.

 

She instinctively began to suck hard on his shaft. Her head, bobbing back and forth. Jon groaned as he felt her tongue lavishing his throbbing manhood. She would stay at his cock head, swirling her tongue around his tip, hollowing her cheeks to give him the divine pressure on his cock.

 

Then she would take him deeper and deeper into her mouth, a few inches at a time. Her hands would alternate between massaging his aching balls, to rubbing his shaft as she sucked him. Rhaenys took great pride in her cock sucking skills.

 

Jon would never admit it, but she sucked his cock better than Val and Ygritte did. Though in fairness, she had been doing it longer. Rhaenys hadn’t been his first, that was Dacey, but she had been one of his earliest lays.

 

Robb was Jon’s twin, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Just as there was nothing Robb wouldn’t do for Jon. They shared most things in their life, including lovers and their lovers certainly didn’t mind getting the attention of both Ned Stark’s eldest sons.

 

Rhaenys worked his cock into her mouth and pleasured it for all it was worth. Every now and then taking it out of her mouth and slapping the wet phallus on her face, before inhaling it again.

 

Jon eventually grew tired of the formula and decided to take matters into his own hands. He carefully gathered Rhaenys’ dark hair into his fist, then without warning, thrust his whole cock down her throat.

 

Her eyes widened in shock as she tried not to panic, so she could still breath. While Rhaenys was better at cock sucking, she couldn’t take the full length of his cock the way Ygritte could. No one else can.

 

“I’m going to fuck your throat now.” Jon told Rhaenys matter of factly.

 

She nodded slightly in recognition. Upon consent, Jon thrust into her mouth again. Rhaenys had gone completely hands-free, surrendering control over to Jon. He set a quick tempo of face-fucking.

 

Holding her head still, Jon thrust his hips back and forth, burying his cock in her throat again and again. Sounds of Rhaenys choking and gargling on his cock were ignored as Jon chased his pleasure. He saw her skin begin to flush darker as he used her.

 

Rhaenys’ big, dark eyes staring up at him, filled with lust. Drool was spilling form her mouth, falling onto her massive breasts as they swayed back and forth with her movements. Jon thrust even deeper down Rhaenys’ throat as she began to struggle a little. He was properly choking her now as he thrust even deeper, feeling his end drawing near.

 

Finally, he thrust deep into her mouth and shot is potent load directly down her throat. Her throat bulged as she tried to swallow every last drop eagerly.

 

“Fucking take it! Dornish whore!” Jon roared in triumph.

 

After a few minutes, Jon let go of her hair and withdrew from her mouth. Tears were falling freely from Rhaenys’ eyes as she panted for breath, a string of saliva connecting her lower lip to his cock. Without a word, she went back to his cock, licking it clean.

 

After Rhaenys finished licking his cock, she lock up at him as they both panted. Jon was still hard as a rock. Their eyes met as they breathed in and out, the mist of their breath rising into the air. Without words, Jon started taking off his tunic and shirt. Rhaenys removed her breeches and lay back on the floor, spreading her thick thighs for him.

 

Jon knelt down between her legs, his cock flopping onto her pelvis, it reached up to her navel. His eyes roamed up Rhaenys’ curvy form until he got to her face. Her eyes were bright with a mischievous fire.

 

“Well?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you going to fuck me with that big. Stark. Cock?”

 

She got her answer when Jon roughly thrust every inch of his manhood inside the Targaryen. Rhaenys threw her head back as she grabbed at his arms, crying out in pleasure. Jon spread her legs wider and gripped her hips with both hands, before pulling out of her and slamming all the way back in.

 

“FUCK!” She gasped. “That’s deep!”

 

Jon rammed into Rhaenys over and over again. Her wails and moans of pleasure echoed throughout the armoury. She wrapped her legs around him as the fucked her. The wet sounds of their flesh clapping together became all that their was in the world. That, at the feeling of Rhaenys’ tight, wet cunt trying to strangle his cock, sucking him deeper into her depths.

 

Her massive, bouncing tits shook as he rammed into her. There were few pairs of tits Jon had ever seen, that could match Rhaenys’ bust. They were round and heavy, yet lacking any sag. They were a rich, dark bronze colour, capped with tiny, coal-black nipples. Both of her which were pierced with silver and sapphire jewellery.

 

Jon leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, earning more shivers from his lover. His teeth tugged at the nipple, causing it to harden tightly. Rhaenys had a weakness for her breasts getting played with that Jon happily exploited whenever he was able.

 

“Fuck me! Jon! Fuck your whore!” She panted hoarsely beneath him.

 

“Fucking take my cock!” Jon grunted in response as he unwound her legs from him and pressed them down. Rhaenys toes were in her hair as she shivered and shook around him, her massive breasts bouncing back and forth.

 

“I’m such a whore!” Rhaenys screamed. “Fucking the brother of my betrothed!”

 

Jon pressed his body down on-top of her, letting his size and weight dominate her as he thrust deeper into her molten cunt. He clapped a hand over her mouth and another around her throat.

 

“Be quiet. Whore.” He said through gritted teeth.

 

That was the last straw.

 

Rhaenys came to a shivering, convulsing end around him. She wailed into his hand as her shaking arms gripped onto him. Jon felt her cunt clench tightly around him as her pleasure sprayed forth. Through all this, Jon didn’t slow down.

 

Relentlessly, he pounded away at Rhaenys’ cunt, her head thrashing from side to side. Until eventually, Jon found his own end. He thrust as deep inside Rhaenys as it was possible to go and filled her womb with his seed. Feeling his throbbing member fill her must have sent Rhaenys over the edge again. Her eyes watered as she climaxed again.

 

Jon rested on top of her, she pulled him closer, comforted by the familiar weight of one of her favourite people in the world. Jon felt her fingers running through his hair as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

 

“Fuck…” Rhaenys breathed.

 

“One of these days, you’re going to get me pregnant.”

 

“Then Robb would have to fuck a babe into Val and Ygritte to make things even.” Jon chuckled.

 

“He’d enjoy that…” she smiled.

 

“Daryn think’s the king will be arriving soon.”

 

“Oh…” Rhaenys said, going quiet. “I feel it would be a good idea for my mother and I not to be there to welcome him.”

 

Jon knew Rhaenys felt no ill will towards Robert Baratheon for what he’d done to her father. However, neither her, nor her mother would ever forgive him for letting Tywin Lannister get away with Aegon’s murder. They always blamed him for what Gregor Clegane had done and they were probably right.

 

Trying to turn to happier subjects, Jon began to ease his still-hard cock in and out of her. Rhaenys met his gaze with a smirk as she leaned up to kiss him.

 

After the pulled apart, Jon pulled out and turned her onto her hands and knees. Rhaenys giggled and bit her lip as she shook her massive arse from side to side, his seed still leaking from her cunt.

 

Jon gave her lovely arse a few hard spanks, earning squeals and moans from the Dornish woman. Once Jon was satisfied she was ready, he thrust all the way inside her again, making her grunt as he pushed her down.

 

After nearly an hour of Jon fucking Rhaenys, Robb opened the door to the armoury. They both looked up to the newcomer. While Jon slowed his thrusts, he did not stop fucking Rhaenys as Robb walked into the room.

 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” Robb said nonchalantly, walking towards them.

 

“Darling! Join us!” Rhaenys beamed up at him.

 

“Oh I intend to.” Robb unlaced his breeches as he knelt in front of Rhaenys. She took his hard cock in her mouth without a second thought. It was far from the first time they had shared a woman.

 

“Wynafryd and Wylla were sucking my cock when I found out the royal party had been seen.” Robb said as Rhaenys gargled his cock. “Came to tell you: They’ll be here in an hour.”

 

“Then I guess we’d better finish fucking this Dornish slut!” Jon laughed as he smacked Rhaenys’ behind.

 

“Oh, I agree.” Robb joined Jon in laughter, gripping Rhaenys’ hair in a tight fist.

 

The twins of house Stark rammed into their lover at a ferocious pace, uncaring for her pleasure, only searching for their own end. Rhaenys was in the seventh heaven. Two men she loved dearly were giving her unimaginable pleasure with their massive, footlong cocks. Her face was a mess and Robb fucked her throat. Drool running down her chin uncontrollably as Robb thrust in and out of her mouth, barely letting her breath. 

 

They both called her obscene things as they ravaged her, slapping her arse, thighs and tits. She was their whore and she gave herself to them completely. Fluids were leaking free from both sets of her lips. After a long while, both Robb and Jon were coming to their end.

 

They were standing side by side as Rhaenys knelt before them, looking up at them as she rubbed their cocks with her hands. This was her favourite way to end their liaisons together, them covering her with their potent seed.

 

“I love you both.” She panted as she jerked their cocks. “You’re my big strong Stark studs. I love your massive cocks.” She would alternate between licked the head of one cock, then the other. Both Robb and Jon were teetering on the edge. “Cover your whore in seed! Mark her as yours! I’m yours!”

 

With loud groans, the damn was broken. Jon and Robb covered Rhaenys’ face and chest with torrent of their seed. She did not stop pumping them until she had extracted the last few drops she could. All three were still, panting together. Rhaenys had begun to collect it with her fingers, moaning in delight as she tasted their seed. The door to the armoury burst open again and all three looked up.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Said the figure standing at the door.

 

“Hello Harper.” Rhaenys laughed, still wiping seed from her tits. The captain of the Chosen Men looked thoroughly perturbed. He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.

 

“You two.” He pointed at Jon and Robb. “Get to the main yard now. The king is in the Winter city.”

 

Oh fuck. Did we really lose track of time that badly? They both got dressed quickly as Rhaenys laughed at them and followed Harper out.

 

Luckily, they both managed to wash and find appropriate clothes in time for the arrival of the king. Ghost and Greywind scampering to the other direwolves. Their mothers gave them annoyed looks as they scurried up to the front, slightly late. Their father just chuckled. Clearly, Harper had told them why they were late.

 

The king’s party was certainly impressive. There were hundreds of them, all with banners declaring their houses. Many Jon recognised and many he did not. At the head of the column rode the king. Surprisingly not on his famous dragon, but on a large warhorse, black as midnight.

 

To say Jon was disappointed would be an understatement.

 

The man was nearly as fat as Lord Manderly. Cley’s certainly going to be disappointed too.  After him, came two king’s guard in snow-white cloaks and a very large man with a horribly burned face who rode beside a tall, blonde teenager. Jon could only assume that they were Sandor Clegane and the crown prince: Joffrey Baratheon. He had a lion and a crowned stag dancing together on his banner.

 

Behind them rode a man who looked like a smarmy git. Greyjoy. Jon saw the Kraken sigil on his breast. After the Greyjoy rebellion, Robert had taken Balon Greyjoy’s last son with him to King’s Landing. Tales from his mother and father had warned him of the Ironborn. Looking at the Greyjoy right now, Jon didn’t have trouble believing them. A massive, two storied wheelhouse slowly followed, most likely housing the queen and ladies of the court. The king dismounted from his horse and embraced Jon’s father with a booming voice.

 

“Gods Ned! It’s been too long. Where the hell have you been?”

 

“Guarding the north for you, your grace.” His father answered.

 

Then the king embraced Jon’s mothers like they were long lost sisters. “All these children yours then?” The king asked, indicating to Jon and all his many siblings. “Where do you find the time?” Both men laughed together. Jon noticed the Queen disembark from the wheelhouse, she was one of the most beautiful women Jon had ever seen.

 

Remember: Do. Not. Fuck. Her. She’s the king’s wife. He mentally repeated to himself.

 

After the queen came who Jon assumed to be her and the king’s eldest child, their daughter Myrcella. It was a wonder to Jon, why she wasn’t already married. She was eight and ten and every inch as beautiful as her mother, if not more so. She looks close enough to being Val and Ygritte’s sister. Though that made sense, as she was their cousin.

 

Pleasantries were exchanged between the two groups. Jon grew tired of it even quicker than he thought he would. They came to an end when the king demanded Jon’s father take him to the crypts, over the objections of the queen.

 

Well… This is certainly going to be fun… Jon thought to himself as they all went inside.

Notes:

And that’s another chapter done! The first chapter that didn’t have Ned as the POV. Robert has finally gotten to Winterfell. I hope you enjoyed it.

Remember, if you want to see chapter previews, pictures for the characters and other extras. My Discord server is the only place to go - https://discord.gg/vQrEA2ctdy

Chapter 14: Chapter 9

Ned

 

The king’s party had ridden into Winterfell in their hundreds. A veritable tide of silver, gold and polished steel, with banners blazing like the sun. Robert had ridden at the front of the column, though Ned scarcely recognised him.

 

When they had ridden against Aerys, Robert had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed and muscled like a maiden’s fantasy. At six and a half feet tall, he was of a height with Ned and they towered over men together. When he had donned his full plate armour and his antlered helm, with Foesmasher in his hand he looked half a god. In those days, the scent of blood, leather and rain had clung to him like perfume.

 

Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume. Robert had also managed to achieve a girth to match his considerable height.

 

He must’ve gained ten stone since the Greyjoy rebellion.

 

Ned knew he did not look as he did in his youth. His dark hair had a few streaks of grey in it now. Cat, Ash and Elia all said they loved it, that it made him look more dignified. But Ned suspected they were just trying to make him feel better. Though seeing Robert now, Ned thanked the gods his deterioration had not been worse.

 

He pitied Robert’s horse, as his gut was immense, with a coarse beard covered his once chiselled jaw. One that had once looked strong enough to carve stone, now was likely a second and third chin for the King. Ned also did not fail to note how tired Robert looked, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

 

They had said a few words together before Robert had asked to be taken to the crypts, in spite of his wife’s wishes. Ned couldn’t help but love him for that, perhaps mixed with a little guilt over how Lyanna felt about Robert.

 

Leaving Fang to guard the entrance, they went down into the crypts together, Ned leading the way down the narrow, winding steps. He held his hand aloft, having formed a ball of glowing blue ice, showing the way with it’s ethereal light. Ned did not need it, as his magically enhanced senses allowed him to see very clearly in the dark. Robert, however did need the assistance and Ned imagined it would be terribly inconvenient if Robert fell down the stairs and landed on him.

 

“I was starting to think we’d never reach Winterfell.” Robert complained as they descended down the steps, both keeping a firm grip on the railing so they would not slip on the damp stones. “In the south, they talk of the realm as seven kingdoms. Almost easy to forget your kingdom is as big as the other six combined.”

 

“I trust you enjoyed the journey, your grace?”

 

Robert snorted in response. “Gods, it’s too cold by half and it just seems to go on forever. Outside of this city, we barely saw anyone. Where are all your people Ned!?”

 

“Likely they were too shy to come out.” Ned jested. He could hear Robert shiver behind him as the cold air rose up the stairs to greet them. “Kings are a rare sight in the North.”

 

Robert barked out a laugh. “Ha! I saw Giants for the first time in twenty fucking years, don’t talk to me about rare sights. More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned?!” Robert stumbled slightly, he put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

 

“Late summer snows are common enough.” Ned said. “I hope you weren’t troubled by them. They’re usually mild.”

 

“Mild, he says… Others take your mild snows.” Robert swore. “I remember you would come out into the training yard in the Eyrie in a light shirt when the rest of us were wearing more layers than a Septon!”

 

“That wasn’t cold.” Ned answered Robert. This was a very old argument for them. Robert was always astounded that Ned didn’t need a dozen layers just to go outside in the snow.

 

“It fucking well was cold and if this is the North in summer, I dread to think of what it’s like in the winter.”

 

“The winters are hard.” Ned admitted. “But the Starks endure. We always have. We’ve ice in our veins Robert. We were made for the cold.”

 

“You need to come south.” Robert insisted. “You need a taste of summer before it flees. In Highgarden…” Robert’s droning washed over Ned like waves on a beach.

 

It was a skill he had learned early in their friendship, to just let Robert talk and partially ignore him. Ned loved Robert like a brother, but he had to admit Robert loved the sound of his own voice. The vast majority of his ramblings were of how the south had great food and lusty women. Ned was well satisfied with the food in the North and he had no lack of women. Robert had always been a man of ample appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures.

 

Of course, Ned was hardly in a position to judge Robert about women, though Ned rarely ever used whores. It was always noble-born ladies who would throw themselves at him, much to his astonishment sometimes. But even so, Ned knew not to indulge to excess. He could see taking a large helping of those pleasures had exacted a heavy toll on the king. Robert was breathing heavily as they reached the correct level and stepped off the stairs, his face was as red as a beetroot as he stepped into the crypts.

 

“I could not see Lyanna in the yard.” Robert said, tentatively. “Has she been receiving my letters? I did ask for her to be there.”

 

“The North is vast, your grace.” Ned told him. “It can take a long time to travel.” It was true, but not the reason Lyanna wasn’t there. She did not want to have Robert fawning over her, she had left Winterfell heading for Larkrise a week before Robert had arrived. Ned knew Lyanna had hoped Robert’s infatuation with her would diminish after all these years. It seemed she was wrong.

 

“Is she well?” Robert asked. “Is she enjoying being a Witcher?”

 

“Very much.” Ned smiled. “She wasn’t built for being a Lady, a life on the road, fighting monsters suits her.”

 

“Would suit us both, I think… Well… I’m glad she’s happy. I would hope to see her again before we head south.”

 

“Your grace.” Ned said, respectively. Ned indicated to the other end, the blue light dancing across the granite pillars and statues.  “She’s down at the end, with father and Brandon.”

 

Robert followed Ned to Lyra’s tomb. He could practically hear the king shivering in the chill of the crypt. The sounds of their footsteps rang off the hard surfaces as they walked among Ned’s dead ancestors and their wolves. The deceased Lords of Winterfell watched over them with blind eyes. Their likenesses carved into the stones that sealed their frozen remains into their tombs, with great stone direwolves curled around their feet. In the custom of house Stark, a pure Uru longsword lay across the lap of every statue, to protect their Stark.

 

The two men stopped at last, even though the crypt carried on far ahead of them. Beyond this point the tombs were empty and unsealed. Tombs that he and his children would fill. But Ned did not like to think on that.

 

“Here.” He held up the glowing ice, bathing the marker for Lyanna’s daughter in blue light. She had been so young, they could not even make a statue for her. Seeing his little sister place her stillborn daughter had been a sight Ned would never forget.

 

Robert nodded solemnly and knelt, bowing his head. There were four tombs, side by side. Lyarra and Rickard Stark, Ned’s mother and father. They sat close together, with two smaller sepulchres on either side of them, housing Brandon and on the other side, Lyanna’s little Lyra. Ned’s older brother had been twenty when he died, murdered by the Mad King along with his father. Lyra had never even had a chance to draw breath.

 

 Ned had loved his family with all his heart. There were still days where he would weep at their passing. They left only him Lyanna and Benjen alone in the world. That wasn’t really true, but sometimes it felt like it was. Even after all these years, after they had built new families for themselves, their hearts still ached for their first family.

 

“I could have been her father.” Robert’s words drew Ned from his thoughts, her looked to him in confusion. Robert huffed as he awkwardly got back to his feet. His weight making it a decidedly difficult task. “Not like that.” His voice was hoarse. “If she had lived, I would have loved her like she was my own. She was Lyanna’s daughter, they might have stayed in King’s Landing then.”

 

“Lyanna would have wanted to return to the North if her child had lived or died.” Ned quietly responded. “She belongs here.”

 

“She belonged with me.” Robert said, bitterly. He brushed his hand along the gravestone, as gently as if he was handling a babe. “I can understand her never wanting another man after what that shit-stain did to her.” Ned didn’t have the heart to tell Robert that Lyanna had a Stark’s appetite for partners in her bed. He must have believed Lyanna had sworn off relationships entirely after her ordeal. “In my dreams… I kill him every night.”

 

Ned shifted uncomfortably next to Robert. He had hated Rhaegar for years, but the passing of time dulls extremes. Eventually, a time came where Ned could not bring himself to have such virulent hatred for a man who’d been dead for over a decade.

 

“The Targaryens are gone.” Ned said, finally.

 

It was true. Robert had seized all the dragon eggs of house Targaryen, along with their castles and their crown. The former queen Rhaella was somewhere in Essos with her children. Ned hoped she was living a comfortable life away from Westeros, with no intention to return.

 

“You’ve one under your own roof.” Robert scoffed.

 

“Careful now...” Ned warned. He donned his ‘Lord’s Face’ as Cat named it, and looked Robert squarely in the eye. Rhaenys didn’t count as a Targaryen. She was practically entirely Elia. “She is to marry my heir. She has been a daughter to me.”

 

“And so you give her a dragon?” Robert said through gritted teeth, sparks arching along Foesmasher. Then the anger left Robert’s face and he took a deep breath. “I do not wish to quarrel with you Ned...”

 

“Nor I, with you...” Ned responded. Meeting after so many years brought back raw memories for them both. They both began to start back the way they had come, both having had enough of the crypts. There was a tense pause in the air as both men walked in the darkness of the catacombs.

 

“Tell me what happened to Jon.” Ned tried to break the silence.

 

Robert shook his head. “I’ve never seen a man sicken so quickly. One day he was fine, the next… We held a tourney for my son’s nameday. If you had seen Jon then, you would have thought he’d live forever. A fortnight later he was dead. The fever burned right through him.” Robert stood still beside the statue of some long dead Stark. “I loved that old man.”

 

“We both did.”

 

Robert put a massive arm around Ned’s shoulder. “You must have wondered why I came all this way to the North, after so long.”

 

“For the joy of my company, surely.” Ned jested. “And the North does have many beautiful places to see.”

 

“I will no-doubt see them.” Robert answered him. “But right now, I have more pressing concerns. These are difficult times we live in. I need good men around me…” Here it comes.   “I have need of you, Ned. Down in King’s Landing, not up here where you’re no use to anyone.” My life and heart are in the North. “Prince Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King.”

 

Ned reflexively dropped to one knee. It was completely un-surprising. Robert was offering him power that all men craved. The Hand spoke with the King’s voice, drafted the King’s laws and even sat on the Iron Throne, on occasion. Only Robert would have more power and status than him. It was the last thing in the world Ned wanted.

 

“Your grace…” he said. “I’m not worthy of the honour…” Robert clearly wasn’t falling for it.

 

“Honour you? You’ll be the one to run my kingdom for me while I eat and drink and whore myself into and early grave.” He laughed. The echos rang through the darkness, all around them the statues of the Starks seemed to gaze at Robert in silent judgment. Ned felt they were looking at him too. “Come now, you practically won the throne for me, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together.” Robert paused as Ned got to his feet. “If not for Rhaegar, we would have been bound by blood. Well, it’s not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter, quite a few I think.” Robert guffawed again. “Gods know how you managed to get so many children. So it’ll be my Joff and your Alysanne-“

 

“Alys is betrothed already.” Ned informed Robert. He didn’t suppose Robert would accept his son having to share his wife with another man.

 

“Ah, shit…” Robert swore. “Alright, your next oldest girl is… Sansa yes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Well it’ll be Sansa and Joff then. Now agree to everything and lets be done with it.”

 

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, your grace.” Ned answered, then hesitated. “May I have some time to consider? I will need to tell my wives-“

 

“Yes! Yes. Tell them. You have quite a few wives too.” Robert laughed again. “Gods only know how you managed to find so many women who would accept it.” They walked a few more steps together. “Just don’t keep we waiting too long, Ned. I’m not the most patient of men.” Robert paused for a moment. “Thank you for not asking about Stormbreaker…” he said.

 

“I knew there had to be a reason you didn’t ride him into Winterfell.”

 

“He’s not the dragon he once was…” Robert said solemnly.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Age I expect. He’s grown frail and sickly these past two years.”

 

“That doesn’t usually happen to dragons…” Ned thought back to Cannibal, the Mad King’s dragon. How it was so frail and weak it barely put up a fight against Snowsong. Common knowledge said that dragons reflected their riders somewhat. Robert’s deterioration could have had an effect on Stormbreaker.

 

“Maybe you can have your Druids take a look at him when you come south?” Robert asked, concern clear in his voice. Ned was sure of two things in regards to Robert: He would never harm him and he loved his dragon deeply.

 

“Of course…”

 

“If nothing else, it’ll be good for him to see Snowsong again. He’s never taken to any other dragon like he did to her.” Robert chuckled, Ned joined him. It was true, Stormbreaker had given her a number of eggs over the time they had spent together.

 

Ned did not quite know what to think. Winterfell and the North were his home. He did not want to leave and the news about Stormbreaker was also unsettling. The eyes of my ancestors are on me. He thought. They were watching and listening, judging his actions. And winter was coming.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Winterfell’s great hall was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Gone were the tapestries depicting the old Kings of Winter, in their place hung many banners of white, gold and crimson. The direwolf of Stark, Baratheon’s crowned stage and the lion of Lannister could be seen on every wall and hanging from the ceiling. Bards and musicians were singing and playing merrily all along the hall. Though, Ned could barely hear them over the roaring fires and the murmur of five hundred half drunken conversations.

 

By Ned’s reckoning, they had just reached the fourth hour of the welcoming feast for Robert and his party. Ned and Robert sat at the head of the high-table on a raised platform with their wives. Ned’s brood were seated with the royal children below them.

 

As the feast had began, Ned had lead the queen into the hall and helped her to her seat. She was certainly beautiful, with a jewelled tiara nestled in her long golden hair. She also wore a jewelled necklace that had a feint glow to it. Ned knew it to be magical, he had heard stories of the queen exposing women of the court for using magic to make themselves look more beautiful. She needed no such enhancement and would look quite poorly upon anyone who did, humiliating them in front of the lords and ladies of Westeros.

 

To Ned, that seemed a very cruel thing to do, yet vanity could drive someone to cruel acts. He had tried to make conversation with her, yet she seemed far too haughty to indulge him, her false smile was plain for Ned to see.

 

After Ned had come Robert, with Cat and Ash on his arms. While Rhaenys had decided to attend the feast with Robb, Elia had opted out, feigning illness. Ned could hardly blame her. He wasn’t too pleased to be eating alongside Lannisters after what their father had done to Elia. Ned’s wives were a vision of beauty, they were wearing the same dresses they had worn on Elia’s last name-day. Deep-cut, red with blue and silver with purple. They happily beamed at Ned as his eyes, and the eyes of most other men in the hall were glued to them. He could practically feel the queen’s irritated expression as she sat next to him.

 

Robert looked quite the opposite. Where once, there stood an attractive man in his youth, now there was a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. To Ned, he seemed already half into his cups. Thankfully, Ash and Cat had managed to guide Robert to his chair without incident.

 

After them, had come all the children. It took them quite a while.

 

First was Robb, with Rhaenys on his arm. Then Jon flanked on either side by the Ryder twins. Alysanne strutted through the hall with her own betrothed. Sansa and Arya walked with Prince Joffrey and the plump Prince Tommen.

 

Alyrianne escorted Robert’s oldest child, the beautiful Princess Myrcella and after them came Bran and little Arthur, with Rickon and Alaric. Ned had been gladdened to see that all managed go without issue. Especially his youngest two, who marched across the hall will all the dignity a six year old and a seven year old could muster. After all had been seated, toasts were made, thanks were given and returned and the feasting had finally began.

 

“This is a great feast Ned!” Robert said loudly as he tore into some boar meat. By now, Ned imagined he had eaten more than the rest of the table put together. Cersei was demurely eating small portions as Ash and Cat made conversation with her. Ned could see Benjen was sat with his wife and Beric, with Lemore and Sylvie sitting on the chairs next to them.

 

“I’m happy to hear you’re enjoying yourself.” Ned answered. “We don’t throw too many feasts for kings in the North.”

 

“Ha! Well this one’s far better than any i’ve been to in the south.” Robert laughed. “There was that one at Casterly Rock. Gods! What a boring feast that was.” Ned noticed the queen give Robert a sour look.

 

In some ways Ned pitied her. Robert wasn’t the easiest person to get along with sometimes. Ned dreaded to think what it would be like to be married to him, let alone when he clearly loved another woman.

 

“You have fine children, your grace.” Ned said to Cersei, trying to include her. Her green eyes fixed with his, like a haughty cat looking at it’s owner disapprovingly.

 

“Yes.” She answered. “Your Sansa is likely to do well as Joff’s wife. It seems such a pity for a beauty like that to be hidden away in the North.”

 

She is three years Joffrey’s senior.

 

“You are… too kind, your grace.” Cat said courteously.

 

“I wanted Myrcella to marry one of your boys, then we could have the ceremony now. Not wait a few years for both to grow.” Robert said, then gestured his thumb in Cersei’s direction. “But this one said she didn’t want her daughter to become one wife of many.”

 

Ned had heard tales from the south that the queen had rejected every single one of the numerous offers to marry Myrcella. Even now, as a woman grown, she didn’t even have a hint of a betrothal. As a parent he could understand wanting only the best for his child, but to a point. Surely the princess would have liked a match by now.

 

“Myrcella is incredibly beautiful.” Ash said. “Any one of our sons would be lucky to have her.”

 

“Surely you mean Lady Catelyn’s sons.” Cersei asked. “Your sons are less than half Myrcella’s age.”

 

“My children are Ash’s too. Just as hers are mine.” Cat interrupted. Ned could see both of his wives didn’t like the queen.

 

“Where’s that Targaryen of yours?” Robert asked loudly, after taking a mouthful of Dornish red. The whole table went silent. Ned looked to his wives, who looked back at him tensely. “Come on Ned, where is she?” Robert got a bit louder.

 

Forgive me, Elia.

 

“Rhaenys.” Ned called to the table below them. “Can you come here for a moment?”

 

Rhaenys looked up from her conversation with Alysanne in surprise, before a look of resignation fell on her face. Ned gave her an apologetic look as she rose from her seat and made her way up the steps. She was wearing an orange and yellow dress that had been tailored in the Dornish style. She stood in front of them, her back straight, her hands clasped behind her.

 

“So you’re Rhaegar’s daughter…” Robert said as he drained his cup again. Rhaenys seemed to tense at his words. Ned, Cat and Ash all tried to give her reassuring looks.

 

“I do not know Rhaegar, your grace.” She said. “Prince Stark is the only father i’ve ever known.” Pride swelled in Ned’s chest. “A much finer choice. I’m sure you’ll agree.”

 

“Aye.” Robert laughed. “You’re certainly a pretty one… Pretty indeed. I reckon Robb Stark feels quite lucky.”

 

Rhaenys couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Robb. “Winterfell is my home.” She said proudly. “I will marry Robb Stark and bare his children.”

 

“Does it not vex you to know I sit on your family’s chair?” Robert asked.

 

“Robert.” Ned warned, placing a hand on his arm.

 

“My family is house Martell.” Rhaenys affirmed. “Soon to be house Stark. To which to you refer?”

 

Robert laughed at that, then held her in his gaze for a few moments. “You can go back to the feast now.” Robert told her, seemingly unsatisfied.

 

“Wait.” Cersei said as Rhaenys turned to leave.

 

She got up and walked to Rhaenys, not saying a word. Her necklace was glowing, she seemed to be looking intently at Rhaenys, as if she was searching for something. Rhaenys held her gaze the entire time, before the queen turned away with an irritated expression and went back to her seat.

 

“Sit, Rhaenys.” Ned quickly told her, she curtsied gracefully, before walking briskly back to her seat.

 

“Is that the necklace i’ve heard so much about?” His Tully wife asked the queen. Ned could see anger in his wives eyes. They could be quite protective of Rhaenys, having raised her alongside their own children.

 

“Yes. It banishes magical illusions and shows you who someone really is.” The queen answered.

 

“Certainly does that...” Ned heard Ash say quietly into her wine cup.

 

“I need no such illusions to make myself beautiful. It is wrong that even the most ugly woman can gain beauty when the gods did not deem them worthy of it.” It seemed to be something Cersei Lannister cared deeply for.

 

“You shall find no such illusions in this hall.” Ash challenged her.

 

Cersei leaned closer to Ash and Cat. For a second Ned was worried she might do something. Her necklace was glowing brighter. Cersei’s eyes were scanning Ash and Cat, who were looking back at her defiantly. “So it would seem...” she relented eventually.

 

Ned could see Cat was beginning to get angrier. She had a temper fiery enough to match her hair sometimes. Don’t do it, Cat. He mouthed to her. She ignored him. “There are many kinds of beauty, your grace. Just as there are many kinds of ugliness. It seems the gods have gifted you with both in equal measures.”

 

Fuck…

 

 

—————————

Jon

 

 

This must have been one of the biggest feasts Winterfell ever had. The great hall was full to bursting with people. Smoke, song and the scent of food filled the air. People were bustling and eating and drinking merrily together.

 

They were sitting on the lower table at this feast, just below their parents, who sat with the King and Queen. The feast had been going on for many hours, the youngest of Jon’s siblings had already gone to bed. He was sitting with Robb, Alys, Rhaenys, Val and Ygritte.

 

Both of the brothers and their sister were wearing grey wool, trimmed with white. The colours of their house. Alysanne was a near perfect mirror of their second mother, Ashara. Jon knew she had ensnared many a man and woman with her iliac eyes. Rhaenys was a vision of Dornish and Valyrian beauty. She had chosen to dress in the Dornish style: yellow and orange silks, favouring her mother’s house and a plunging neckline. Something both Robb and Jon had appreciated greatly.

 

Val was regal in a pure white dress, her honey-blonde hair in one large braid that went down to her waist. Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the light of the candles. Lovely and lethal would be how Jon would describe her.

 

Next to Jon, sat Ygritte, wearing light blue and white, with the insignia of the Ice Guard displayed proudly on her breast. If Jon was ever forced to pick his favourite woman, it would be Ygritte. He could never voice his thoughts, but Ygritte was his greatest love. While Alysanne, Rhaenys and Val were much more conventionally beautiful, in Jon’s mind, Ygritte had them all beat.

 

Her hair was an untameable mass of copper curls, falling well past her shoulders. She was quite a bit shorter than Alysanne, Val and Rhaenys. Some of her teeth were a little crooked and her nose had been broken by a shield bash in the training yard when she was four-and-ten. To this day, he was still apologising for that mishap.

 

But to Jon, all these imperfections only magnified her allure. Sitting next to her now, the light of the candles was making her red hair shine. Her husky voice was low as she regaled them with a tale of how she slew a minotaur, making gestures with her knife. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. There was a freedom to her that Jon could not compare. She was completely un-afraid to be herself.

 

“I suggest you take her out to a corridor, before you bend her over the table in front of the entire hall.” Val’s whisper surprised him somewhat. She giggled as Jon turned and gave her a look.

 

“I wasn’t thinking of that.” He lied.

 

“Yes you were. I know you Jon Stark.” Val had a cheshire grin on her beautiful face.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by Ghost, who nuzzled his way in between them, to get to most of a roasted chicken that was still on it’s platter. All of their direwolves were wandering around the halls, taking what food they wanted.

 

None would stop them, as they weren’t brave enough to tell a four-thousand pound wolf ‘No.’ His father’s direwolf had even taken food from the high table. The king had roared in laughter when Fang had taken a boar’s head off the table and quickly trotted away to share it with his cubs.

 

“Who’s a good boy.” Val said as she lovingly scratched Ghost behind his ear. Ghost chuffed affectionately as he tried to fit the whole chicken in his mouth.

 

All the girls who wanted to bed him tried to get close to his wolf. Jon assumed they were entranced by the power of a direwolf and the one who rode it. Ghost certainly had favourites, Val and Ygritte were among them.

 

“What are you two nattering about?” Ygritte asked as she picked up a sausage with her hand and started eating it, chewing loudly. She had told him her mother gave up trying to make her a ‘proper lady’ some time ago.

 

“How Jon want’s to fuck you on this table.” Val answered her sister, cackling. She always loved to stir the pot.

 

“That’s not what we were talking about.” Jon said, as Ygritte looked him up and down, smirking seductively.

 

“Well… If the notion took your fancy… I wouldn’t say no…” she winked at him.

 

“Ygritte, there’s hundreds of people here.”

 

“I know.” She leaned forward, biting her lip. “Exciting thought, isn’t it?”

 

“Gods! Do you two ever stop?” Robb exclaimed on the other side of the table. In the heat of the moment, Jon had forgotten other people were sitting around them.

 

“We’re no worse than you and Rhae.” He shot back. It was true, Robb and Rhaenys were often all over each other. Even now, she was half sitting on him as they ate their food. She had decided to move even closer to Robb after the king had called her to the high table.

 

“That doesn’t make it right.” Alysanne told him as she ripped a chunk of bread in two and dipped some in her soup.

 

“You don’t have a leg to stand on either!” Jon laughed. Alysanne was could be just as lusty as her brothers, as a number of men and women she shared her bed with would attest.

 

They laughed and ate some more as the night got later. Greywind tried to leap onto the table to get at some food. Jon and Rhaenys started playing catch with a fireball, to the “oooh’s” and “ahhh’s” of the guests. Alysanne retired early, with three men, including her betrothed, on her arm.

 

Eventually, the crown prince walked up to them from the other end of the table. Jon could tell he was an insufferable prick just by looking at him. Behind the prince stood a taller man with a golden Kraken sewed onto his doublet, signifying him as a Greyjoy.

 

“You must be the Targaryen princess i’ve heard so much about. I am Prince Joffrey.” He introduced himself with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, completely ignoring the rest of them.

 

Rhaenys tensed, then bowed her head slightly. “It is an honour to meet you… Prince Joffrey.” She said. Jon could tell she wanted to tell him to bugger off. But he was the son of the king. The last thing they needed was for the king to be angered by her.

 

“It is good to meet you, cousin.” Val said, clearly trying to draw attention away from the uncomfortable Rhaenys. “I hope you’re enjoying your time in the North.” The prince regarded her as if she had just asked him if he liked the taste of his own shit.

 

“It’s certainly cold and grey.” Joffrey said. “Casterly Rock is far superior.”

 

Jon toyed with the notion of lighting Joffrey’s shoes on fire, but thought better of it. They would probably blame Rhaenys and his father certainly wouldn’t be amused by it. When Jon had discovered his fire-bending ability, his father had sat him down in front of the Weirwood and made him swear a vow to never use his gift for tricks that could hurt someone. It was a vow Jon had lived by ever since. Fire was alive and demanded to be treated with a measure of respect, else it would consume without end.

 

“I wish to congratulate you on your betrothal to the Stark heir.” Joffrey walked closer to Rhaenys where she sat, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning down. “And if you should ever feel dissatisfied with your husband, you are free to visit me.” He whispered to her.

 

Jon only heard him because of his enhanced hearing due to being a skin-changer. He near leaped over the table to throttle the prince for his words. Robb was clearly angry too, but kept better control over it.

 

“We thank you for your… kind words...” He said sternly as he got to his feet. Robb towered over both Joffrey and his Greyjoy lickspittle. “But now I suggest you return to your seat. I would hate for you to miss the next course...”

 

“Given the food so far, I wouldn’t be missing much.” Joffrey said as he turned and walked away, his Greyjoy following.

 

“Are you alright?” Robb asked Rhaenys with concern.

 

“I’m fine.” She answered.

 

“I’m going to fuck his sister.” Jon said resolutely.

 

“Jon, no.” Robb warned.

 

“Jon, yes!” Ygritte’s eyes lit up, dropping her sausage back onto her plate.

 

“I agree with Robb.” Val added. “You can’t just fuck the Princess because the Prince is a shit.”

 

“Jon, father wants us to behave. Deflowering the King’s daughter is not behaving.” His brother was still standing, looking down on him with steel grey eyes.

 

“You should fuck her.” Ygritte urged him, with a glint in her eye.

 

“You’re not helping. Ygritte.” Robb sighed as he sat down in his chair next to Rhaenys.

 

“Fuck her in Joffrey’s bed. Teach that bastard a lesson.” She continued.

 

“Ygritte!”

 

“You heard what he said to Rhaenys.”

 

“What did he say?” Val asked, as she didn’t have enhancements of being a skin-changer or a member of the Ice Guard, she hadn’t heard Joffrey.

 

“He wanted me to visit him for ‘satisfaction’.” Rhaenys said to her.

 

“Fuck her up the arse and leave her in Joffrey’s bed.” Val turned to Jon.

 

“Val!” Robb scolded her, clearly disappointed she’d switched sides.

 

“Yes!” Ygritte cackled.

 

“Fucking the Princess won’t solve anything.” Robb tried to explain.

 

“It’ll certainly be satisfying.” Val answered him.

 

“No.” Robb affirmed. “And that’s the end of it.”

 

The feast went on. They drank and sung and made merry, but Jon still had Myrcella in the back of his mind. The five of them left the feasting hall, Rhaenys, Val and Ygritte were getting needy for the kind of meal only Jon and Robb could give them.

 

“I’ll join you later.” Jon said after they left the hall and walked partially down an empty hallway, Ghost and Greywind following. Robb turned back to look at him in surprise.

 

“You feeling alright?” He asked.

 

“Yes, just need a walk is all.” Jon lied. “Besides, I fucked Rhaenys alone earlier. You should get Val and Ygritte to yourself for a night.” He chuckled. It wouldn’t be the first time Robb had fucked the three of them together. Jon had certainly done it his fair share of times.

 

“In that case. Goodnight, Jon.” Rhaenys said as she drew Jon in for a kiss. He pulled her curvy body against his as they leaned into their embrace, his hands took hold of her fleshy arse. Val also bid him goodnight, then replaced Rhaenys, her kiss, much more demanding. Finally came Ygritte, who pushed him against the wall and kissed him longer than the other two combined.

 

“Good hunting.” She whispered with a wink. A wide smile plastered on her face.

 

She knows what i’m going to do.

 

Jon never could keep a secret from Ygritte. Not even when Dacey had fucked him for the first time. Ygritte had raged and sworn bloody vengeance on the Mormont. Apparently, they had a wager on who would be the first to fuck him. Thankfully, Ygritte and Dacey’s relationship had improved dramatically when he started fucking them together.

 

After they had bid their goodnights, Robb lead the women away, one arm around Rhaenys his other hand resting on Ygritte’s arse, with Greywind padding behind them.

 

Jon decided to actually go on a walk before he went back into the hall. Ghost was his white shadow as they walked through Winterfell in the moonlight. The cold night air was a welcome relief from the near oppressive heat of the feasting hall. Jon’s walk came to a halt when he came across to figures standing in a doorway, talking. He stayed to the shadows and listened to what they were saying.

 

“Alright, you make a fair point. She is nice to look at.” The taller one said.

 

“But I bet she’s a dead fish in bed.” The other laughed. Jon recognised the voices he was hearing. They were Joffrey’s and Theon Greyjoy’s. He edged closer to better hear what they were saying.

 

“Ok… so how about Stark’s whores?” Theon asked.

 

“Hmmm.” Joffrey put his hand on his chin. “I think i’d Wed the Dayne, Bed the Tully and Behead the Martell.” The prince laughed.

 

Jon felt his blood boiling. They were talking about his mothers! Quite a loud part of his mind told him to walk up to them and smash their skulls together until there was nothing left.

 

“Good choices.” Greyjoy laughed. “I’d certainly Wed or Bed the Tully and the Dayne. The Dayne is prettier, but have you seen the Tully’s tits? Besides, it’s only natural. Riverlander women have been the saltwives of the Ironborn for hundreds of years. Perhaps she’ll feel the same way.”

 

“Mayhaps our esteemed Hand would happily announce his wife had a new babe after you bedded her.” Joffrey laughed. Ghost was baring his teeth in a soundless snarl, sensing Jon’s feelings. His hand went to Ghost’s back, taking hold of his white fur. The last thing he needed was having to explain how the Prince and his friend died. Jon decided not to kill the two walking shits and instead look for Joffrey’s sister.

 

Jon found her sooner than expected when he walked into her as she was coming out of the fest hall. “Forgive me, Princess. I did not see you.” He smiled down at her. She was a very beautiful woman, with bright green eyes and long blonde hair in a complicated braid going down her back. She was in a finely made dress of red and gold silk, that bared her shoulders and clung to her slim, yet very curvy body.

 

“No need to apologise, Prince Stark.” Myrcella blushed up to him.

 

“My father is Prince Stark. You can call me Jon.” He began to turn on the charm. Whether it would be successful or not was up to the gods.

 

“Then you may call me Myrcella.” She giggled in response. Then she noticed Ghost and tensed up. “Is that your wolf?” She asked in a tight voice.

 

“There’s no need to fear.” Jon assured her. “Ghost is quite gentle. Aren’t you boy?” He held his hand out to scratch Ghost behind his ear. The direwolf leaned into Jon’s hand, happily. Myrcella was still staring at the massive wolf. “You can touch him if you want.”

 

“Mother wouldn’t want me to…” she said, her voice laced with apprehension. Then she began to tentatively hold her hand out to Ghost.

 

“Here, let me.” Jon said, taking her hand in his and putting it on Ghost’s snow white fur. Myrcella made a small squeaking sound when her hand made contact.

 

“It’s… so soft…” she cooed as she ruffled Ghost’s fur.

 

“Is there a reason you are leaving the feast Myrcella?” Jon asked, as they both petted his direwolf, who seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention.

 

“I needed fresh air… I also wanted to see Winterfell. Mother wouldn’t let us look around earlier...” she seemed sad that she had been denied a tour.

 

“I could show you the castle.” Jon offered. “None know Winterfell as well as me.”

 

“At night?”

 

“There are few times Winterfell looks better than when it’s bathed in moonglow on a brisk night.”Myrcella seemed to light up at the prospect of a moonlight walk through the castle.

 

“I’ll gladly accept your offer, Jon.”

 

“Do you not need one of your white knights to escort you?”

 

“Why would I?” She giggled as she took his arm. “I have a handsome prince as my protector.” They laughed together as they set off through Winterfell, with Ghost trotting along beside them.

 

Jon took Myrcella all over Winterfell. From the library tower all the way to the glass gardens. She was quite impressed with them. Acres of land under a glass building. Hot water pumped into the soil to keep it warm in the winter.

 

All castles and cities in the North had similar structures. They were a necessity, especially during the winter. But Winterfell’s were by far the largest. A reasonable size, given Winterfell was one of the largest castles in Westeros. A fact that certainly awed Myrcella.

 

“It’s just all so big.” She marvelled as they walked across the yard to the gate of the godswood. “And certainly cold.” She huddled closer to Jon.

 

She wasn’t wearing the most practical dress for the North. With bare shoulders and slits going along her sleeves, a lot of skin was shown. It took a lot of Jon’s willpower not to openly leer at her nipples, that had clearly hardened to points under her silk dress.

 

“I could fetch you a cloak?” Jon offered.

 

“No, no. Your warm embrace is enough for me.” She giggled in response. “Winterfell is so much bigger than the Red Keep.”

 

“Well, you know the old saying: Everything’s bigger in the North.”

 

“I don’t doubt it.” Myrcella smirked up at him.

 

“Come, I can show you something warm, if that is what you wish.” Jon said, leading her into the godswood. Eventually they got to a collection of pools fuelled by hot water springs. The steam from the hot water was rising into the crisp air, making the area around the pools much warmer.

 

“Wow.” Myrcella said as she looked at the dark water.

 

“The hot pools of the godswood are said to have rejuvenating and healing properties, generations of Starks have bathed in them.” Jon told her, walking to the edge and putting his hand in the water. He looked to Myrcella. “Would you like to try it?”

 

“Mother would say I shouldn’t…”

 

“But what do you say? I will cover my eyes until we are shrouded in the water.”

 

Myrcella paused for a moment seemingly debating in her head what to do. “I expect you to keep your word, Stark.” She smirked at him as she went behind a tree and started undoing the binds of her dress.

 

Jon quickly got out of his clothes and dove into the blissfully warm waters of the pool. All tension left his body as the comforting heat embraced him.

 

“Cover your eyes now. I will tell you when to stop.” Myrcella called out from behind the tree.

 

Jon followed her request and covered his eyes. However, he did not promise to cover Ghost’s eyes and through his direwolf, Jon was able to see Myrcella. The beautiful blonde woman peered out from behind the tree, trying and failing to cover herself with her hands. Once she saw his eyes were covered, she let her hands fall and bared herself to his warged gaze.

 

She was as generously endowed as her mother, with large breasts and wide hips. Other than her breasts and hips, she was a very slim girl, with a flat stomach and long legs. Her long blonde hair was undone and fell down her back in a golden cascade.

 

Jon saw she stood at the edge of the pool, a hand on her hip, biting her lip, her green eyes sparkling as she looked over him in the water. Jon could hear her heartbeat rising, her skin was beginning to flush in the cold.

 

She just wanted a chance to look at me naked. Jon realised. She gracefully descended into the water, visibly relaxing as she was submerged. She sat a respectful distance away from him in the water.

 

“You may uncover your eyes now.” She said.

 

Jon did so and saw Myrcella smiling at him in the water, her breasts only just below the surface. Her long hair was getting wet in the steam and the water. She was blushing slightly, no doubt because this was probably the first time she was naked with a man.

 

“Isn’t it glorious.” Jon asked, moving around the pool, causing the waters to ripple around them. “We swim here all the time.”

 

“It certainly feels lovely.” Myrcella answered as she swam around as well. Moving carefully, so she did not expose herself. “Now I wish mother had let me be betrothed to you.” She caught herself just after she finished talking and seemingly felt embarrassed. The news certainly surprised Jon.

 

I imagine she wasn’t supposed to tell me that.

 

“We were to be betrothed?”

 

Myrcella looked off to the side, sheepishly. “Father wanted the match. ‘You can’t do better than a Stark’ He said. Mother was against it.”

 

“Is there a particular reason?”

 

“…She said she didn’t want me to become one wife of many. To become a… whore.”

 

“If you were my wife, you would never be a whore. You can ask Val and Ygritte yourself.”

 

“I certainly want to meet them. They are my cousins after all.”

 

“Ygritte would certainly love you.” Love to dominate a nice southern girl like you. Is what he meant, but he didn’t tell Myrcella that bit. “I would be a lucky man indeed if you were my wife.” Jon said, brushing a stray strand on blonde hair out of Myrcella’s face.

 

She blushed and looked away. “I would be the lucky one.”

 

They both stayed like that for a time, floating and swimming in the warm waters. Eventually, Jon decided to play a game with her. He silently dropped beneath the surface of the water. He could see her naked body clearly as she floated. Her muffled voice called out, up above the surface as she looked around for him. He swam around her under the surface, marvelling at how her voluptuous body moved.

 

Eventually, he sprung above the water, surprising Myrcella greatly. She let out a shriek as Jon splashed her and laughed.

 

“That’s not funny Jon!” She laughed as she splashed him in return. They played in the water until Jon took her in his arms. They laughed and giggled together as Jon held her, until a shocked expression dawned on Myrcella’s face. “I… Your… I can feel your…” she murmured, blushing terribly.

 

Their naked bodies were pressed together, Jon could feel her large breasts against his chest and his cock was pressing against her hip. Wordlessly, they looked into each other’s eyes, grey on green, bathed in the light of the moon.

 

They both leaned in and their tongues met in an intimate dance. They held each other as they kissed in the warm waters of Winterfell’s godswood. Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin.

 

She tastes of honey.

 

Jon’s hands roamed her body, tracing invisible lines along her flawless skin. One hand snaked down her hip to the fleshy globes of her arsecheeks. The other took a handful of her large, perky breast. Jon felt Myrcella’s arms feeling her way around his body too, spending quite a bit of time on his well-muscled arms.

 

Eventually they pulled apart, a single string of saliva connecting their lips. Jon looked deep into her eyes, and she looked deep into his. They manoeuvred themselves to the edge of the pool, getting onto the grassy bank together. They both lay naked for a time, staring at each other, Myrcella’s cheeks were flushed with arousal.

 

“You’re so beautiful...” Jon reassured her, placing a hand on her flat belly.

 

“So are you.” She replied, sheepishly. Then she giggled.

 

Her giggles turned to moans as Jon began to kiss his way around her body. Laying small kisses down her neck, Jon took her full breasts in his hands, fondling them. The ripe flesh overflowed from his hands as he gently grasped them. Myrcella began to gasp as Jon’s fingers began to tweak her nipples, bringing them to hardened points again.

 

Soon his fingers were replaced with his tongue, it swirled around her nipples, one after the other. Jon alternated having one hand on a breast, then his mouth on the other. The princess really began to moan when Jon wrapped his lips her nipples. Her head fell back as she cupped his head, keeping it at her breasts, her thighs began to rub together, clearly trying to get some satisfaction.

 

Eventually Jon rose from Myrcella’s breasts, his cock throbbing at the sight of the Baratheon princess. Jon sat up on his knees, his cock jutting out into the air like a mast from a ship’s deck.

 

“Gods…” Myrcella bit her lip, blushing even harder when she saw it. “It’s so…” She didn’t even need prompting to wrap her fingers around his shaft and rub it back and forth, slowly.

 

She only gripped it with two of her fingers and her thumb, the couldn’t reach the whole way around his cock. That always seemed to give Jon a sense of satisfaction.

 

“How does it feel?” He asked, concerned about how Myrcella was finding his cock.

 

“Me?” She laughed, nervously. “What about you? Am I doing it right?”

 

“It feels good.” He answered, smiling down at her.

 

Myrcella bit her lip “I’ve never touched one before…”

 

That much is obvious.

 

“Grip it with your entire hand.” He urged her, gently. She did so, taking his cock in her fist. Her hands still weren’t big enough to go the full way around his cock. “That’s better.” He smiled. Jon knelt there for a time as Myrcella rubbed his cock, getting more eager with each pump of her hand.

 

Eventually, Jon changed their positions and placed himself looking down on Myrcella’s cunt. It was very pretty and smooth, with a small patch of golden curls on top of it. Jon was more used to bald cunts, as was the style in Dorne, which had been spread to the North.

 

Jon gently rubbed his fingers along Myrcella’s cunt lips. Dragging them back and forth, earning shivers and moans from the naked woman.

 

“Oh… Jon…” She cooed. Her eyes widened as Jon inserted one of his fingers into her cunt. She was tight as hell and getting wet. When he felt she was comfortable with the invading digit, he began to move it inside her. “Gods! Jon… Jon…” she chanted.

 

“Enjoy it, Myrcella.” He urged her as he pushed deeper. Her head fell back onto the grass again as Jon placed his lips on the hood of her cunt and gave her his ‘Lord’s Kiss’. It was said among the women that he had the most talented tongue in the North. He put it to work on the princess.

 

“Oh… Gods!” She she moaned. Her breathing became heavy, her large breasts rising and falling on her chest.

 

“You enjoying yourself?” Jon lifted his mouth from her cunt with a smile on his face.

 

“Huh? What?” She panted.

 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jon repeated.

 

“My head is spinning.” Myrcella moaned, Jon could tell she was getting close to climax. He went back to work on her, his fingers curling in her cunt as his tongue swirled around her nub. Her thighs closed around his head as she bucked her hips. As loud scream erupted from the princess as Jon’s mouth and chin were bathed in her climax.

 

Never fails. Jon licked his lips, tasting Myrcella on them.

 

Jon was on his knees between Myrcella’s legs. She was still shaking from her climax, but she locked eyes with him. His aching cock was pointing directly at her cunt, begging to be let loose.

 

“Are you ready?” He asked, teasing her wet entrance with his cock-head.

 

“Yes…” Myrcella answered, blushing.

 

Ever so slowly, Jon eased his cock into her entrance. Inch after inch of his cock was embraced by her tight, wet heat.

 

“Gods… You’re…” she panted.

 

“I’m inside you.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Does it hurt?” Jon asked. Even women who had other lovers had trouble taking him the first time, let alone maidens.

 

“Not anywhere near as much as I thought it would.”

 

“Well then.” Jon said as he leaned down on top of her, his lips inches from hers. “I think it’s time I took you properly.” He smiled as he kissed her.

 

Jon began to ease his hips in and out of her cunt. Myrcella drew her arms around him, holding him close as he fucked her. With every thrust, his cock went an inch deeper inside Myrcella. She moaned and crooned as she took his cock. Her hands were travelling up and down his back as their tongues danced together. Her cunt was throbbing around him, massaging his length as he speared into her, over and over again.

 

Myrcella wrapped her legs around him as well, locking her feet behind his legs, trying to keep him inside her. Jon decided to have a little fun and gave her an extra deep thrust, making her eyes roll back into her head as she squealed into his mouth. When they had finished kissing, Jon pushed himself up, so her could look down on Myrcella as he fucked her. And what a sight it was.

 

She was beautiful, a halo of golden curls fanned out around her head, her large breasts bouncing up and down in time with his thrusts. Myrcella had closed her eyes and started to bite her hip, he could tell she was close to finishing again.

 

Sure as daylight, a few minutes of thrusting later, Myrcella came undone around him. She gripped him tightly in her arms, her cunt was like a vice around him, trying to milk him of his seed.

 

If Jon were a lesser man, feeling a beautiful princess of the realm climaxing around him would be his end. But Jon was not a lesser man. So he continued to plough Myrcella through her climax. She shivered and quivered around him, uttering sounds that might have been words if she could think straight. After drawing out her climax as long as possible, Jon stilled, allowing Myrcella to catch her bearings. Her breasts wobbled deliciously as she trembled.

 

When Myrcella got her breath back, Jon started to move her by her hips onto her hands and knees. She obliged his positioning her body.

 

“Do you want me like this?” She asked, sticking her peachy behind up as she rested on her hands and knees.

 

“Spread your legs a little and go lower down.” Jon instructed her. She followed his commands, spreading her legs and arching her back, making her already large arse appear even bigger. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

 

Jon grabbed her arse with his hands, moulding the ample flesh to his hands. Her stroked along her cheeks, pulling them apart, revealing her cunt and puckered arsehole. They wobbled pleasantly under his machinations.

 

“You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. Your body is divine.” Jon said as his gaze travelled up her back to her face looking over her shoulder at him.

 

“Is it?” She giggled, blushing.

 

Jon eased himself inside her quivering, sopping wet cunt again. Myrcella’s thighs shook as he pushed his way inside her, deeper than before. After a few strokes, the wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh could be heard in the godswood again.

 

Jon sped up his thrusts as Myrcella dropped her head down, moaning from the back of her throat. Her took her like a direwolf took his bitch. Her body was his, to do with as he pleased. Myrcella’s melodic voice cried out as Jon fucked her.

 

“Fuck…” Jon panted as Myrcella’s arms and legs gave out under her. He was fucking her prone against the ground. She grunted as his cock went deeper into her cunt, kissing the entrance to her womb.

 

“You feel even deeper now.” She moaned, her breath was getting short again.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

“Yes!” She cried out. “Yes! I love it!!” With that, she climaxed around him again. For the third time that night.

 

“Would you like to be on top?” Jon asked, once she had recovered.

 

“Um… Yes.” She murmured, tiredly. Jon rolled off her onto the grass, she threw her leg over his waist and mounted his hips. “This is new.”

 

“It’ll come naturally to you.” He assured her. As she slid down his length, made an easy task with all the lubrication she’d coated him with. She began to move her hips on top of him.

 

“It’s like riding a horse.” He told her.

 

“What kind of horses have you been riding?” Myrcella laughed in response.

 

“I usually ride a direwolf.”

 

“Now, so do I.” They both laughed, wholeheartedly together. Jon’s eyes were drawn to they way her large tits bounced.

 

Myrcella leant forwards on-top of Jon and pulled him into a deep embrace as they fucked on the godswood ground. Jon began to thrust up into her cunt, making her moan. It didn’t take long before they were both climaxing together, Jon filling her royal womb with copious amounts of his seed.

 

They lay together on the grass for a time, Jon’s seed spilling out of Myrcella’s well-used cunt.

 

“How do you feel?” Jon turned to ask her.

 

“My head is still rushing…” she panted, laughing.

 

“Did you enjoy losing your maidenhood?” Jon asked with a grin. He always loved to take a woman’s maidenhood and bring them unimaginable pleasure as he did it.

 

“It was amazing...” She smiled it him.

 

“Did you know that in the old days, a marriage ceremony of the First Men involved a man fucking his wife in a godswood.” He informed her. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryen was the last woman in the North who was married that way, when she wed Torrhen Stark.”

 

“Are you saying we’re married now?” Myrcella asked, smiling mischievously at him.

 

Jon leaned over to kiss her once again.

 

 

—————————

Ned

 

 

The hour was late, the feast had dragged on into the night before Ned and his wives had retired to Elia and their bed. They had found her wrapped up in blankets next to the fire, reading a book, with Ned’s shadowcat: Shade curled up at her feat, her deep purr rumbling like thunder.

 

The direwolves had happily bounded over to the shadowcat, who leaped up and dashed to her perch in the rafters, where she could survey the entire room without issue. Shade wasn’t the most sociable of creatures, rarely did she want to deal with others, especially three happy direwolves. On her perch, she had crossed her paws and stared down on them all disapprovingly with her glowing green eyes as her long tail hung down.

 

Ned and his wives had seen Elia had missed them that evening and set about remedying the situation.

 

“FUCK ME! I’M YOUR FUCKING WHORE!!!” Cat screamed as Ned rammed into her.

 

Ned was surprised their bed has lasted all these years. Even as it creaked and shifted under the force of his thrusts. They were nearing the end of a multiple hour session of love-making. Ned had already spent himself inside all of his women multiple times, but now he was drawing towards his end.

 

Cat was on her back as he fucked her cunt. Ash was on one side of her, Elia on the other. Both were worshipping Cat’s massive breasts as they bounced on her chest, with Ned working his fingers into their cunts, bringing them closer to their final ends. Cat was in her seventh heaven, her eyes had glazed over as she climaxed again and again. Ned could feel the large wet patch on their bed.

 

Ramona’s certainly going to enjoy cleaning that up.

 

“I’m close!” Cat gasped, as a hard thrust sent shivers through her body. Ned could feel his own climax approaching. He watched as Ash pulled her lips from Cat’s breast and wrap her hand around Cat’s throat.

 

“Did I give you permission, whore?” She asked, accusingly. She pinched Cat’s nipple, causing her to bite her lip as she let out a long whine. “Did I?!?”

 

“N-N-No!” Cat stammered. “Please! Can I finish?” She pleaded, gasping as Ash gripped her neck tighter. “I’ve…been…good! Ah!” The clapping of flesh got louder as Ned fucked her at a blinding pace, his balls loudly slapping her arse-cheeks.

 

“I don’t think so!” Ash said to her, moaning as he pleasured her. “Did you see the dress you were wearing? Your massive tits were nearly falling out the whole evening! The king was practically drooling over you!”

 

It was true. As the night wore on, Robert’s eye had certainly wandered down Cat’s cleavage more than once, just as it had Ash’s. Ned had sent Marei Robert’s way to distract him. He guessed she was successful as he saw Robert leaving with her soon after.

 

“But I… Ah! I wanted to look nice for you!” Cat fluttered as Ned fully encased his throbbing cock deep inside her silky tunnel. Elia had given up suckling on Cat’s nipple. Her head was now resting on Cat’s breast as she moaned, pumping her hips onto Ned’s fingers.

 

“Yes, you wanted to entice us with your whorish body no doubt!” Ash said, having to stifle a moan as Ned worked his fingers deep in her cunt. “Do you have any idea how much Ned and I wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you on that table?”

 

Cat did not answer, she could not. Her face was going red from the lack of air and from Ned’s fucking. He felt her quivering channel clench around him and knew she was done. Ash whispered something in Cat’s ear and she threw her head back in a mighty scream they could probably hear at the wall. Shockwaves tore their way through Cat’s body as she came to a heart-stopping climax around Ned.

 

Feeling her bathe his cock in her love pushed Ned over the edge as he let go and sent a torrent of his seed deep into Cat’s fertile womb for the billionth time. Ash and Elia also being brought to a soaring peak by his fingers as they moaned, kissing as their heads rested on Cat’s breasts. All four lovers lay panting together for what felt like an age.

 

Ned rolled off his lovers and climbed from their bed, as he had countless times before. He walked naked over to the other side of the room he threw open the windows of the room, one-by-one, then the door to their balcony, letting the cold night air into the room.

 

He gazed into the blackness of the starless night, with only a crescent moon hanging in the sky. His eyes fell from the moon down to Winterfell, to his home. He thought of the people who loved there: his family.

 

“I will refuse him.” Ned said as he turned back to the bed. Cat was the first to look up at him.

 

“You shouldn’t.” She said, worry falling on her face.

 

“My duties are here in the North. With you three. I have no wish to be Robert’s Hand.”

 

“Good.” Ash said. “You can stay here with us. Robert and his Lannister bitch can fuck off south.”

 

“Ned, he will not understand that. You told me Robert always got his way when you were younger. Do you think being a king has made him less egocentric? Don’t you see the potential harm in offending a king?” Some of Cat’s words certainly rang true, but Ned could not believe Robert would go that far.

 

“Robert would never harm me or any of mine.” He tried to assure her. “We’re close as brothers. If I refuse him, he will roar and rage and bluster. Then in a week, we will laugh about it together. I know the man!” It had always been the way of their disagreements: Robert’s temper would get the better of him and he would rage, then eventually he would forget and they would carry on like before.

 

“You knew the man.” His Tully wife answered him. “The king is a stranger to you.”

 

“I agree with Cat.” Elia said quietly. They all turned to her in surprise.

 

“You do?” Cat asked her.

 

“I… I don’t want you to go south, Ned. But even in the past… your friend was capable of…” she did not finish her sentence. She didn’t need to. Both Ash and Cat comforted her on the bed. Even after all these years, the wounds of her dead son were still painful a lot of it due to the lack of justice. “…And from what you say, it is clear he is even lesser now.” She added.

 

A loud and unexpected knock on the door broke the silence that has settled in the room. Ned frowned. “What is it?”

 

The voice of Desmond, one of the Ice Guard stationed at their door came through. “My prince, Druid Luwin, Ser Arthur, Capt’n Harper and the mage Yennefer are without. They’re begging an urgent audience.”

 

“Did you tell them I had left orders not to be disturbed?”

 

“Yes, my prince. But they’re bein’ awfully insistent.”

 

Ned sighed heavily, walking over to wardrobe, to slip on a heavy robe. Ned checked the women had gotten themselves under the covers before he answered. “You can send them in.”

 

The group of four was shown into the room. Druid Luwin lead them, a small grey man in dark green robes with great floppy sleeves, hiding many pockets within them. After him came a rather tired looking captain Harper, who wore a simple shirt and breeches, it looked like he had been woken up not too long ago.

 

Then came Arthur, Ned’s good-brother, dressed as always, in pure white. Even after he head left the King’s Guard, he still dressed as one, wearing their armour when needed.

 

Finally came Yennefer, looking immaculate as ever, still in the same black and white dress she wore during the feast. Luwin only began to speak when everyone was inside and the door was closed.

 

“My prince, princesses,” he said to them, “pardon for disturbing your rest. I have been left a message.”

 

“Who left this message? Was there a rider?” Ned asked, slightly irritated.

 

“There was no rider, my prince. Only a carved wooden box, left on a table in my observatory while I napped. Yennefer woke me when she found it.” Luwin answered him.

 

“It must have been brought by someone in the king’s party.” Yennefer added. “We’ve had no other visitors from the south.”

 

“What was in this wooden box.” Ash asked from the bed.

 

“Inside was a finely made new lens for the observatory.” Luwin answered. “It isn’t dwarven, so a lens of this quality could only come from Myr.”

 

“A lens?” Ned asked, frowning. “You would not have come to me for that alone.” The time was catching up with Ned and he was beginning to lose his patience. I should have drunk less during the feast.

 

“Indeed.” Luwin smiled. ”Clearly there was more to this than there seemed.”

 

“A lens is something to help us see.” Cat said from beneath the bed covers.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“So, what is it they want us to see more clearly?”

 

“I thought the same thing. I sensed some kind of magic in the box. So I asked Yennefer to check for illusions in it.” Luwin turned to Yennefer, who began to speak.

 

“We found the true message concealed under a strong illusion at the bottom of the box.” She said, showing a role of parchment. “It would not have been found if we weren’t looking for it.”

 

“Let me have it then.” Ned said, holding out his hand.

 

“The message is for princess Catelyn, my prince.” Yennefer informed him. She handed it to him it was sealed with a blob of blue wax. Ned carried the letter over to the bed and gave it to Cat. She broke the seal and read the letter carefully. Ned could see Ash and Elia were resisting the urge to read it over her shoulder.

 

“It’s from Lysa… She took no chances. When we were girls together, we had a private language, she and I…”

 

Suddenly Cat leaped up from the bed, still undeniably naked and on wobbly legs. The four who had entered the room looked away. Ned heard Harper mutter “Just once… Just once…” under his breath as he pinched his nose.

 

“Perhaps we should leave.” Luwin offered as Cat padded nakedly over to the fire.

 

“No. We will need your counsel.” She seemed quite annoyed. “I’ll have none of your false modesty.” She told them sternly, hand on her hip. She stood like she was scolding a group of ill behaved children. Her lips were swollen, her hair was tousled, her skin was glistening with sweat, his seed was dripping down her thighs. It could not be clearer that she had just had vigorous sex. Yet none in the room would dare countermand her. It surprised Ned how someone so submissive in bed could be so forceful out of it.

 

“Stop being so childish. You helped me birth all of my children.” She pointed at Luwin. “How many times have you walked in on Ned and us?” She asked Harper.

 

“Too many.” Harper answered under his breath.

 

“Yennefer, I was there when you conceived your daughter with Ned. You Arthur…” she paused, seemingly unable to think of a situation when he had. “Well… I’ve been fucking your sister for over a decade.” She finally said. Eventually, Ned blinked out of his frozen awe and draped a robe around his wife’s shoulders as she ripped up the letter and threw it into the fire.

 

“What was in the message?” He asked Cat as she stood up again, firmly wrapping the robe around herself.

 

“A warning.” She answered him. “Lysa says Jon Arryn was murdered.”

 

Ned tensed up. “By whom?”

 

“The Lannisters… The queen.”

 

“That bitch.” Ash said, still sitting on the bed, her arm around Elia.

 

“Gods…” Ned whispered. “Lysa is sick with grief… She cannot know what she is saying.”

 

“It is not beyond them.” Elia said.

 

“She knows.” Cat said with certainty. “She’s impulsive true, but this message was carefully planned and cleverly hidden. She knew it meant death if her letter fell into the wrong hands. To risk so much, she must have had more than mere suspicion.” Ned saw Cat look up to him with her shining blue eyes. “Now we have no choice… You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“What?” Ned saw that clearly Cat had come to a different conclusion than him.

 

“You must stay here.” She pleaded. “They killed one Hand, they could kill another.”

 

“A moment ago, you were saying I had to go south lest I incur Robert’s wrath.” Ned stated. “Now you say I should stay?”

 

“That was before we found out the last Hand was murdered.” Cat answered.

 

“I cannot leave Robert to be stabbed in the back by Lannisters.”

 

“Fuck Robert!” Cat shouted.

 

“Yes, Cat!” Ash supported her wife. “Leave him to his fate Ned. It’s no concern of ours.”

 

“I will not abandon him.” Ned affirmed. “That is final.” All Ned’s women looked at him, pleadingly. But he would not be deterred.

 

“The Hand of the king wields great power.” Luwin said. “Power enough to unmask this conspiracy.”

 

“Arthur.” Ash said, looking to her brother. “Promise me you’ll protect my husband when you are in the south.”

 

“I swear it.” Arthur answered her. “You’re my brother, Ned.” He chuckled, “You think i’d let you walk into that pit of vipers alone?”

 

“I’ll be there too.” Harper added. “An’ all the lads with me.”

 

A fine fellowship. Ned thought.

 

Now all we need do is save Robert from himself and the Lannisters… fuck!

Notes:

And that’s chapter 9 done! Hope you enjoyed Robert arriving in Winterfell and all that came with it. Remember to like and comment for more When Winter Comes.

 

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Chapter 15: Chapter 10

If there was ever a time when Ned despised Robert, it would be now. Ned was sitting at his desk in his solar, reviewing the costs of Robert’s visit to Winterfell. His father had always taught him that a lord must review of the costs to his house himself. It was the same principle as the man passing the sentence, swinging the sword.

 

If a lord is to make a decision on a matter, he must make it himself. His father’s words rang through his mind. He must take into account all the available information and come to a reasonable and measured conclusion.

 

Fang and Shade were curled up together by the fire, every-now-and-then Fang would lift his head and yawn before burying his face in Shade’s fur.

 

His house certainly wasn’t poor. It was probably one of the richest, in-fact, only beaten by houses Lannister and Tyrell. Thanks to the North’s vast mines and the trade ships sailing through the Great Canal. House Stark had coffers overflowing with gold, enough for any occasion.

 

It seemed Robert had wanted to test that theory with his visit. Hosting a King and all his retinue was certainly a costly venture, Ned had found. He dreaded to think what his ancestor, Alaric Stark had to pay for Good Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys. Though, to read Alaric’s private journals, the Queen more than compensated for the cost of her stay over the six moons the resided in Winterfell…

 

The number of servants in Winterfell had doubled to accommodate Robert’s party and of course, good servants required good pay. Then there was all the food and wine for the nightly feasts they held.

 

If Robert treats the crown’s coffers like he treats our’s, he might bankrupt the realm.

 

Ned was also going through a list of who he would take with him to the south. Obviously, Vayon Poole and some of his deputy stewards, along with an array of servants from all over Winterfell. Arthur, Beric, the Chosen men, a portion of the Ice Guard and some Winter Wolves would need to come as well, especially if he was going to move against the Lannisters. It was now that Ned lamented having to take his children with him.

 

He could not deny Robert, so Sansa would have to come. She had accepted the news of her betrothal to Joffrey with her natural grace. Arya, however, had certainly not taken it with grace, though Ned would have been surprised if she had taken it any other way. Robert had also offered Prince Tommen’s hand for Arya, so she needed to come as well.

 

Ned knew it was probably in an effort to convince him to come south, he had to accept. As none of his other children were required to come come with him, he did not wish to take them. Telling Alyrianne and Arya that they would be split up had been difficult. They were more like twins than Robb and Jon, in spite of having two different mothers.

 

The rest of his children would stay in Winterfell with Ashara, Catelyn and Elia. They would rule Winterfell in his absence and either come south eventually, if he succeed in moving against the Lannisters. Or they would stay in the North and Ned would fight his way through all the armies of the south to return to them. In the distance, he could hear the hunting horns blowing as he looked over the pieces of parchment.

 

Is it that time already?

 

Robert loved to hunt. He loved it when they were both fostered in the Vale together and it seemed his passion had only grown with age. Robert had taken him on almost daily hunts during his time in Winterfell. Ned had tried to inform Robert that he did have duties as the Prince of Winterfell, that he could not spend all of his time having fun.

 

Robert however, did not choose to listen and Robert had a habit of getting what he wanted. They were probably waiting for him before they could leave. They would all be there Barristan Selmy, Prince Joffrey, Jaime Lannister, the list went on.

 

They can wait a little longer.

 

Another unfortunate consequence of Ned going south was that he would miss the weddings of his oldest children. Once Ned had told Robert he would accept, Robert had said they would need to go south within the week. He wasn’t wrong, the realm needed it’s King in King’s Landing and the King needed his Hand. Unfortunately, a week was nowhere near enough time for all the guests to come together for Robb, Jon’s and Alysanne’s weddings, guests from all over the north that needed to be there for the weddings.

 

I missed the birth of my eldest sons and now I shall miss their weddings. Ned thought, ruefully.

 

They had been planning on marrying them for a time, they wanted to make sure that all of their children were happy with their decisions. Robert coming north to tell him to come south had been terribly unlucky for them.

 

It couldn’t be helped though. So Ned had decided to give out his wedding gifts early. He had already picked out what each of his children and their partners would receive from him.

 

Thoughts of gifts for his children turned to thoughts of leaving Robb to rule Winterfell. He was a good lad: kind, thoughtful, fair. He would make a fine Prince of Winterfell, though Ned was glad that Robb would have Cat, Ash and Elia to help him.

 

All that he does not know, they will teach him.

 

Cat had been a great help with running the castle in the early days of his Princedom. In spite of being a girl, she was the only one of he, Ash and Elia that had any experience in being the heir to their house. Cat was her father’s heir for many years as she was his oldest child and he had no sons, Hoster had taught her how an heir should rule.

 

Benjen would need to begin instructing Jon on how to be a Grand Marshal of the North. Benjen had Beric to teach him, the old witcher had been very thorough in his instruction. Ned had faith in his sons, they would learn and rule the North together, like they were always meant to.

 

A soft moan floated through the open door to Ned’s left, he turned to look inside his chambers. On his bed lay a still naked Genna Ryder and Septa Lemore. They cuddled together as they dozed, both still sweaty from when Ned fucked the both of them earlier.

 

It had started with Lemore coming to him with a letter from their eldest daughter, Arra. She was training to be a witcher at the school of the bear and was apparently enjoying herself. Ned had been glad to hear that she had found her place in the world. Talking to Lemore about the three daughters they had together, quickly lead them attempting to make more children together on his desk.

 

That was where Genna had found them when she had entered his solar, coming to ‘thank’ him for giving house Ryder permission to build ten new ships to add to their already sizeable fleet. After Ned had fucked Genna and Catelyn together in the Winterfell sauna, Mance had given his wife permission to lay with Ned whenever she pleased. Genna often made use of that agreement.

 

Ned could barely blink before Genna had disrobed and started attending to his cock alongside Lemore. He had fucked the pair of busty beauties all over his solar and bedchamber, ending their session with Genna and Lemore thoroughly spent and exhausted on his bed, where they had remained.

 

Ned was drawn from his thoughts when he heard to door to his solar open. Glancing up, he saw a maid walking into the room, before he turned back to he parchments.

 

“If you could tidy up some of the mess, i’d be very grateful.” Ned told her. She quietly got to work, bustling around the room, picking up Genna’s and Lemore’s dresses and folding them neatly.

 

“Oh!”

 

Ned raised his head and saw her looking at the two naked women splayed out on his bed. It was likely a sight she wasn’t expecting to see at the time. He couldn’t help but chuckle when servants reacted with such surprise about the women he took to bed.

 

“Don’t mind them.” He assured her, turning back to his work. “They’ll be out of it for a while longer.”

 

Ned heard her walking around the room, putting books back on shelves, gathering goblets and plates along other general tidying. He wasn’t paying much attention to her as she busied herself about the room.

 

“Is there… anything else I can do for you?” Ned heard her ask, though she sounded different, her voice had a Dornish tilt. He looked up to respond, but his voice failed him.

 

Surprise was the first thing he felt, blending into confusion and disbelief.

 

Standing in front of his desk, dressed as a maid, was Tyene Sand, daughter of Oberyn Martell, Elia’s niece. Ned had met her and all her sisters when he’d visited Dorne with Elia and his wives. That trip had ended with him fucking his wives, Elia, Mellario and Ellaria Sand on a beach as Doran and Oberyn watched. That had been the time he impregnated Mellario for the second time, maybe Cat too.

 

“Tyene?!?” Ned managed to blurt out in surprise, rising from his seat. “What are you doing here? Does your father know you’e here?”

 

“Yes, he knows.” She giggled in response, smirking at him as she leaned on the desk. “And in answer to your other question, I wanted to see aunty Elia and meet my cousin. We’ve been exchanging letters with Rhaenys for years, I wanted to see her in person.”

 

“…Why are you dressed as a maid?”

 

“That’s a funny story…” She laughed. “So… I infiltrated the King’s party as they left King’s Landing and I deceived my way into becoming one of the Queen’s maids. This morning, she called all of us together and had us strip naked.”

 

“What?!?”

 

“I’m telling the story. She appraised each of us, apparently deciding I was the most beautiful and told me to seduce you. She wanted me to be her spy.”

 

“The queen told you to spy on me?” Ned said in a low voice, turning to look out of the open door to his balcony. If Tyene was telling the truth, this information could be useful against the Lannisters.

 

“Yes.” Tyene chirped. “And seduce you…”

 

“I imagine your father might have a problem with that.” Ned laughed as he looked back to Tyene, only to be shocked by her again.

 

In the time it had taken Ned to look away from her, Tyene has silently undressed and was standing completely naked in his solar. The short, blonde woman looked up at him confidently, with a hand on her hip. She was undeniably beautiful, with creamy, pale skin and shoulder-length blonde hair framing her innocent face.

 

Her deep-blue eyes shone as she smiled at him, her smile showing her dimpled cheeks. Tyene undoubtedly had to body of a women, with large, firm breasts sitting high on her chest and matronly hips flaring out from a thin waist. Unlike other dornishwomen Ned had been with, Tyene had a small patch of golden curls just above her cunt.

 

“While I appreciate the offer.” Ned began “I feel Elia might have something to say about it. As would your father and your aunt Mellario. What would make you want to offer yourself to me?”

 

“Have you seen yourself?” She asked, clearly surprised by his question. “I certainly saw you. As you were fucking my aunts and your wives on that beach. We all did. My sisters, Arianne and I all watched you together, as you took them.” She began to walk towards him slowly, her eyes locked on his. “Over and over and over again, until the sun was setting... I want that...”

 

“I’m old enough to be your father…” Ned informed her.

 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be a great fuck.” Tyene responded, taking another step closer to him, Ned took one step back.

 

“I’ve fucked your aunts and your father’s lover...”

 

“So?”

 

“So… Isn’t that a bit… strange?”

 

“You’ve never been in this kind of situation before?” She asked incredulously.

 

Well, that’s not entirely true.

 

Ned had been in a similar situation. Thinking back to it, the memories of a time long past washed over him.

 

 

—————————

 

 

“Well… That was fun.” Minisa panted as she fell to his side on the bed, his seed leaking from her cunt.

 

It was the third night of the tourney at Harrenhal. Ned had gone for a swim in the God’s Eye and come across the Lady of house Tully, the mother of his future good-sister. She was swimming naked in the water, bathed in moonlight. When she had seen him, she had nearly screamed, thinking he had come to do her harm.

 

Once he had assuaged her of that fear, they had begun to talk. She had invited him to undress and swim with her. Maybe she liked the idea of bedding a young northerner, Ned did not know. What he did know was that he had been fucking Minisa on the riverbank before the turn of the hour.

 

In spite of being nearly his father’s age, Minisa still had some of her youthful beauty. It was clear to Ned that Catelyn had inherited her mother’s looks: Both had long red hair and pale, freckled skin and both were blessed with abundant curves. Curves Ned was certainly enjoying, as Minisa pressed her naked body to his side.

 

“Am I your first?” She asked innocently, turning her head to him.

 

“No.” He answered her. If he hadn’t had the various women of the Vale, then there was Sylvie, back in the North.

 

“I thought so.” She smiled, kissing along his jaw. “Rarely are men as skilled as that during their first time. If your brother is even half the man you are, my Cat will certainly enjoy her marriage. I’ve heard the rumours about Stark men… but I never believed...” a girlish giggle escaped her throat.

 

“What of your husband?” Ned asked, feeling guilty and fearing the issues fucking the mother of his brother’s betrothed may cause. She held her self up by her elbow and leaned over him. Ned felt her massive breasts brushing against his chest.

 

“What my husband doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Minisa said, looking into his eyes before she leaned down and kissed him, passionately. His cock began to twitch as Minisa wrapped her hands around him again, massaging him back to hardness. “What’s going on between you and that Dayne girl?” She asked, moving around to sit on his thighs.

 

“N-nothing.” Ned stammered in response. Ashara Dayne was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Multiple times he had tried to pluck up the courage to ask her to dance during a feast, each time he had failed.

 

“She likes you… Hmmmm…” Minisa moaned as she eased her way down his cock, taking him inside her again.

 

“How can you tell?” Ned asked, laying back as Minisa began to ride him at a languid pace.

 

“A woman knows these things…” Minisa’s eyes fluttered in pleasure, her mouth fell open. “You should… Ask her to dance…” she chuckled.

 

“What about you?” Ned asked her, resting his hands on her hips as they gyrated atop him.

 

“Surely you know this is the only night we can spend together.” She smiled down at him, placing her palms on his chest, slowly bouncing up and down on him. “I am married, after all… and old enough to be your mother...”

 

“Then I guess we should enjoy this night while it lasts.” Ned turned them both around as Minisa squealed in delight, now he was the one on top and could control the pace of their lovemaking.

 

Soon enough, Minisa’s moans could easily be heard outside of Ned’s tent.

 

 

—————————

 

 

“So what are our options.” Robert ask as he, Ned and Jon were gathered around a map of Westeros in Jon’s solar. They were planning their first moved against the Mad King.

 

“The way I see it,” Jon began. “We need to get Ned back to the North, he can rally the whole kingdom to our cause.”

 

Ned was quiet, he had never expected to be the one to command the North. That was father’s job, then it would have been Brandon’s. Now there were both gone, murdered by a madman. Leaving Ned to go on without them. Alone.

 

“I… I can take a ship from Gulltown.” He finally said. “Once I get to White Harbour, I can call the banners and have a force in the tens of thousands coming south.”

 

“I can call on the storm-lords.” Robert added, running his fingers along his hammer, the heavy weapon resting on the table. “But it seems no matter what we do, we need to deal with the Riverlands. They’re between all of us.”

 

“The Riverlander armies can be a great help, or a hinderance.” Jon stated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I would hope lord Hoster would at least feel insulted by what Aerys has done. But if that’s not enough…” he looked to Ned. “I’m sorry Ned… but as Brandon’s younger brother, his betrothal to lady Catelyn now falls to you.” In the wake of all that had happened, Ned hadn’t even thought of that.

 

Fuck… Fuck fuck shit! I can’t marry her, not after what her mother and I did together.

 

Clearly Jon had noticed Ned’s apprehension. “I know this isn’t ideal, Ned-“ He began.

 

“I’m already married.” Ned interrupted him.

 

“Didn’t you tell me Old Golds followers can marry as many times as they like?” Robert asked, clearly deciding not to help Ned.

 

“Surely Minisahhh-lady Tully and lord Tully will object to their daughter being a second wife.” Ned ventured. Jon gave him a look, like he knew Ned was hiding something. Then, he shook his head, clearly dismissing the thought and Ned breathed easy again.

 

“Is there something you need to tell us Ned?” The old man asked.

 

“…No…” Ned answered him, in as convincing a manner as he could hope to muster.

 

“…Either way, we can discuss it when we get to Riverrun.” Jon said.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned was walking through the corridors of Riverrun after finalising the agreement between Hoster and the rebels. He had asked for a steep price, though Ned did have some sympathy for him. They were asking him to commit treason after all. Then suddenly, Minisa came out of a side door and pulled him into some sort of small storage room, Ned didn’t know what to think.

 

“I’m so sorry about your brother and father.” Minisa said as she embraced him. Ned wrapped his arms around her, taking comfort in her. “And i’m sorry about my husband.”

 

“Catelyn can never know what we did.” He told Minisa, trying to seal the wound quickly rather than let the pain be drawn out.

 

“Absolutely.” She agreed. “I just… wanted to tell you i’m sorry… And you will make a great husband for Cat.” They stood, holding each other in the darkened room for a time. She held his face as she looked into his eyes. Ned could see her eyes welling up. “You’re too young for all this.” She said. “You should not have to carry this burden…”

 

Before he knew it, they were kissing against a stack of shelves. They both knew what they were doing was wrong, but they needed comfort in uncertain times. They fucked for over an hour in that storage room. Ned had Minisa every way it was possible to have a woman. A part of him took great satisfaction in fucking Hoster’s wife after the way he had acted.

 

Neither of them noticed that someone was watching them through a keyhole in the door.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned was brought out of his memories by Tyene sucking his cock. It seemed the Sand Snake had grown bored and fished his member out of his breeches for her to dine on. His gaze rested on the blonde dornishwoman as she lay kisses along his length, one dainty hand wrapped around his base.

 

“Well… As you’re so insistent…” Ned sighed, as Tyene sealed her lips around his cock-head and began to suck as her hand pumped him.

 

“I do insist, prince Stark.” She smirked up at him, then went back to worshiping him with her mouth. “I love this cock.” She moaned as she rubbed her lips along him. “I’ve seen a fair number of cocks in my time and this is by far the best!”

 

Ned gathered her short, blond hair into his hand as Tyene put his cock in her mouth and began bob her hear up and down. The feeling of having a beautiful, twenty-year-old woman sucking his cock with such gusto brought back memories from Ned’s youth. Inch by inch, Tyene would take his cock deeper into her throat with every bob, her tongue massaging him the whole time.

 

It seemed Tyene was especially skilled in the art of sucking cock. Ned decided to test just how skilled she was. He gripped her head with his other hand and started pulling her down onto his cock and thrusting his hips. Her blue eyes bulged in surprise the first time he did it, then she began to acclimatise.

 

After a few dozen thrusts, they had fully transferred from Tyene sucking his cock, to him fucking her mouth. She was resting her hands on her knees now, fully surrendering control over to him. Drool was spilling from her mouth as Ned motioned her head back and forth, flowing down to her large breasts, which bounced very pleasantly under his gaze.

 

The eye cosmetics she wore, were beginning to run down her cheeks as her eyes began to water. Ned had thrust his cock two thirds of the way down her throat when she began to choke. Ned gave her no time to recover as he thrust even deeper.

 

He grunted through gritted teeth from feeling her tight throat wrapped around his member, putting him under such delicious pressure. Tyene had found a use for her hands in her cunt, pleasuring herself as Ned used her. A dark red flush crept across her skin as her eyes began to roll back into her head from the lack of air she was getting.

 

Ned was feeling is peak approaching. With one last thrust and a deep grunt, he forced his cock to whole way down Tyene’s throat and deposited his seed almost directly into her stomach.

 

Her lips were sealed to the base of his cock for a number of minutes. As she thrashed and choked, shivering from her own peak. When he released Tyene, she fell back on her ample arse, coughing, spluttering and drooling his seed. Her breasts rose and fell on her chest as she panted heavily.

 

“You wanted me to… take you…” Ned said as he knelt down and handed her a goblet of ice wine.

 

When she finally recovered, she looked up at him, and took the wine. Her face was a mess, covered in tears and running make up, his seed still leaking from her mouth. However, she had a massive smile on her face.

 

“Yes I did.” She proclaimed loudly, before getting up and scampering happily over to his desk. She was an incredibly bouncy girl, both in body and personality. When she got to the desk, she turned around and hopped onto it, looking directly at Ned. “Now, prince Stark.” She smirked, opening her creamy thighs to him, exposing her wet cunt. “I believe my cunt needs your attention.

 

“I agree.” Ned grinned as he walked over to Tyene. She made a sound of surprise when Ned pushed her onto her back and lifted up her legs. She looked up at him with wonder in her eyes, her blonde hair splayed out in a halo around her head.

 

His cock slapped down onto her pelvis with a wet Phlat! It was almost comical, how big it was. Ned had pressed his hips to Tyene’s, so they would see just how far his cock would go inside her, it went past her navel.

 

“That’s… gonna do some damage…” Tyene moaned, biting her lip as she smirked up at him.

 

“If you’re scared, you can always say no.”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

 

“As you command.” Ned took his cock in hand and slowly began to ease his way into Tyene’s cunt. It was probably the tightest cunt Ned had ever felt, it was a struggle to get even a quarter of his cock in during the first push.

 

“Fuuuuck!” Tyene shivered as she clamped down on Ned.

 

He slowly withdrew for her sopping cunt, before pushing forward again, this time going a little deeper. With every thrust, Ned would manage a little deeper into Tyene, as she moaned and shook around his cock, being split in half as she climaxed around him. Once, twice, three times. Ned was using her for his pleasure… and she loved every second of it.

 

“Fuck your bastard whore!” She cried as Ned was halfway inside her, the silky walls of her cunt choking the life from his cock.

 

“You’re my whore then?” Ned asked, as he placed his hands on the desk, on either side of Tyene, using them to hold him up as he thrust into her.

 

“Yes! Yes! I’m your whore! Your bastard whore! Fuck a bastard into me!” She screamed in ecstasy, wrapping her legs around him, trying to keep him inside her longer.

 

Ned was growing impatient now.

 

She had wanted what he gave to his wives and Mellario. She was going to get it. With his hands clamped onto Tyene’s hips, Ned began to pummel her cunt with his cock. The loud sounds of his balls slapping on her arsecheeks echoed throughout the room.

 

Words failed Tyene, as all that came out of her mouth were moans and incomprehensible screams of pleasure. Her mouth hung open, her head thrashed back and forth and her eyes rolled back. Her arms flailed around, alternating from gripping the table, to gripping Ned’s arms, to pinching her own nipples.

 

They were small, rosy things, well placed on her large breasts, hardened with arousal. They bounced back and forth on Tyene’s chest as he pounded her cunt. They weren’t as large as Elia’s, or even Ashara’s, but they were large for her frame and looked utterly gorgeous.

 

Ned leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, pinching it gently with his teeth. It was then where Tyene found her forth peak around him, squirting her pleasure all over his desk.

 

Eh, those notes weren’t important anyway.

 

Tyene’s operatic climax pushed Ned towards his own end. Looking directly into Tyene’s bright blue eyes, Ned thrust all the way inside her, making her gasp deeply and let forth a torrent of his seed. It was more than likely she would carry his child if she did not drink moontea afterwards.

 

They stayed like that for near an eternity, gazing into each other’s eyes as they found their mutual release together. Every throb of his cock, spending more of his seed inside her seemed to send Tyene to ever higher peaks of euphoria.

 

They didn’t even hear the door to the solar opening. But they did hear a voice. “Breaking in a new maid I see.” Elia chuckled as she walked into the room, wearing a yellow dress of light wool. Ned’s head snapped up, lost for words. “Don’t let me stop you.” Elia continued over to the door to their bedchambers. “I’ve been feeling a little unwell and wanted to take a nap. Oh…” she stopped when she saw the two naked sleeping women on their bed.

 

Ned was still unsure what to do.

 

If it was Cat or Ash, the chances were that they would probably join in. However, Tyene was Elia’s niece. She probably wouldn’t be happy with Ned fucking her.

 

Tyene shimmied out from under him before he could stop her. Almost comically, Tyene’s legs gave out instantly when she tried to stand, copious amounts of his seed dripping down her leg. She had to lean on the table to keep herself up.

 

“Aunty Elia!” She called out, making Elia turn from the doorway to her bedchamber.

 

“Tyene?!?” Elia certainly seemed shocked to see her niece. Especially in such a state.

 

“Can you blame me?” Tyene asked, “You’ve been his lover for years. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

 

Elia looked from Tyene, to Ned and back to Tyene then she burst out laughing.

 

“You really can’t stop yourself can you?” Elia asked him in between fits of giggles. “Honestly, Ned…” Ned had enough shame to look sheepish in front of his long-time lover.

 

“Tyene was… quite insistent…” he explained.

 

“Oh, I bet she was!” Elia laughed. “And I’d wager it took you a lot of convincing to bend her over too.” Eventually, her giggling subsided. “Look, you’re both adults, I can’t decide who you fuck.” she said. “But please try not to wake me up.” She was rubbing her head, trying to lessen her headache.

 

“Wait Elia. I’ve got a better idea!” Tyene said, right before she waddled over to Elia and kissed her passionately. Ned’s eyebrows near left his face in shock. Though, after everything he’d done, something like this shouldn’t have surprised him, he realised. Elia pulled apart from Tyene for a moment.

 

“I’m your aunt…”

 

“So?” Tyene leaned forward again, taking Elia’s lips with her own. Ned saw Elia wasn’t wholly against the notion, when her hands found Tyene’s pert arse.

 

Before Ned could tell what was happening, Elia was naked and both women were walking towards him. Elia took him in her arms first, drawing him into a deep embrace, their tongues wrestling for dominance as they danced together. Then Tyene pulled them apart, so she could start kissing him. She was more fervent than Elia, she kissed him like she might never get the chance to again.

 

“Don’t judge me, my darling.” Elia smiled at Ned when he and Tyene separated. “You were fucking her first.”

 

The threesome quickly moved over to Ned’s desk, where Elia lay on her back, her large breasts spilling off to the sides of her chest. Tyene, so full of vigour, even after being thoroughly fucked by Ned, jumped onto the desk and sat on Elia’s face.

 

Elia grabbed Tyene’s thighs, to hold her down as she eagerly lapped at Tyene’s cunt. The blonde woman bit her lip as she moaned. Elia was very experienced, Ned knew that all too well. He was glad that his desk was made out of ironwood.

 

Perhaps the Starks of old wanted to future proof it for sex? Ned wondered.

 

For a moment, he sat back and marvelled at the two beautiful naked women in front of him. In contrast to Tyene’s light, creamy complexion, Elia was a few shades darker, with coal-black nipples that stood to hardened points as Tyene played with them. She kneaded Elia’s bosom as Ned watched, playing with them, making them wobble pleasantly. Elia always loved to have her tits played with, Ned could hear her muffled moans though Tyene’s cunt.

 

The contrast of Tyene and Elia’s light and dark skin tones was certainly arousing. Ned decided he’d had his fill of watching and wanted to start participating.

 

He splayed Elia’s thick thighs further apart, revealing her leaking cunt to him. She accepted him like the longtime lovers they were. The familiar, snug embrace of Elia’s cunt was comforting to Ned, as he began to plough her. His hands went to the insides of her knees, holding her legs up as he thrust his throbbing cock into her molten depths.

 

Ned set a quick, powerful pace, fucking Elia with the full length of his cock. Soon enough, she was moaning and screaming into Tyene’s cunt. Tyene took hold of Elia’s ankles, stretching her legs back further as they quivered through Elia’s rapturous climax.

 

“You enjoying my aunty Elia’s cunt?” Tyene asked playfully. “Is she satisfying you like I did? I imagine she’s not as tight as me-ahh!” Elia cutoff Tyene by smacking her loudly on the arse a few times. Tyene only giggled before pressing her pelvis harder onto Elia’s face.

 

“Play nice.” Ned warned as he pinched Elia’s nipple.

 

“I am playing nice!” Tyene gasped.

 

“I was talking to Elia.”

 

As the vice-like walls of Elia’s cunt squeezed Ned’s cock, begging him for his seed, he took hold of Tyene’s head and pulled the blonde Sand Snake into a passionate kiss. Tyene wrapped her arms around him as they leaned into each other.

 

“I can feel her licking your seed from my cunt.” Tyene whispered, breathlessly. “How many times has she tasted your seed from another woman’s cunt I wonder?” She was teasing him, trying to rouse the beast within.

 

“You talk too much.” Ned told her, as he pushed Tyene flat on top of Elia.

 

She squealed at the sudden movement, but the sound died on her lips when Ned withdrew from Elia’s cunt and thrust the whole way into Tyene’s throat. He set an even rougher pace, fucking Tyene’s throat, than he did earlier.

 

Tyene was quickly choking on Ned’s cock, tasting both him and Elia as she kept up a vicious pace on Tyene’s cunt, slipping a finger or two into her arsehole as well. After a few minutes of dedicated throat fucking, Ned withdrew from Tyene’s mouth as returned to Elia, who let out a low whine at being filled again. Ned held Tyene flat against Elia, she began to lick at the hood of Elia’s cunt as well as Ned’s cock when it was halfway out.

 

“This is where you belong!” Ned said as he leaned forward to clap his hand down, hard on Tyene’s ample arsecheeks. The loud slapping rang through the room. After a few blows, Tyene’s arse was covered in red handprints as she moaned and squealed.

 

Eventually, the feeling of Elia’s cunt surrounding his cock and Tyene’s tongue on him became too much. With one last mighty thrust, Ned filled Elia to the brim with his seed, bringing Elia to another explosive end. Tyene also managed to finish on Elia’s tongue and fingers, with a little work from her hips. Ned slipped his cock out of Elia’s loosened cunt, plentiful amounts of his seed flowing from within her.

 

Ned fell back onto his oaken chair, then both Elia and Tyene knelt at his feet and began to suck his cock. Together their mouths worked him for some time. Swapping his cock-head between their lips, both running their mouths up and down the sides of his cock. They even competed to see who could take him deeper into their mouths, Elia won.

 

Eventually, Ned’s stamina finally gave in and he painted both their beautiful faces with his seed, after giving them both a healthy portion of it to swallow. Both women smiled and giggled together as they licked Ned’s seed from each other.

 

All three looked up when Harper walked into the room. None of them bothered to cover themselves as Tyene and Elia shamelessly licked up Ned’s seed. Ned could see Harper lose another part of his soul in despair as he looked at the scene in front of him.

 

“I’m sorry Ned, but Bran’s had a fall…” was all he said.

 

 

—————————

 

 

When Ned received the news about Bran, he had rushed to get dressed and set off to Bran’s chambers, where they had taken him. Fang was at his side as both Tyene and Elia followed quickly behind them. Thankfully, Bran’s chambers were not too far from his own. Ned burst through the door to find Bran lying on his bed, with splints tied around his leg.

 

“Bran.” Ned breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him.

 

Luwin was sitting beside Bran, finishing the fastenings on the splint. Osha, Bran’s sword shield from the Ice Guard stood quietly in the corner, Ashara and Catelyn were sitting on Bran’s other side, Cat not letting go of Bran’s hand. Bran’s two birds, a raven and an eagle, sat on their perches in the rafters, Summer was curled up by the fire with Redmane and Starlight, their eyes on the door incase any attackers were to arrive. Fang padded over to his pup, as Ned went to his own.

 

“What happened?” Elia asked as she followed Ned into the room.

 

“I was climbing again…” his son began.

 

“How many times have I told you not to go climbing! Will you never listen to me?” Catelyn raised her voice, clearly agitated, before Ashara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry…” Bran said, looking even smaller than the boy of ten that he was.

 

“No… No. I’m sorry.” Cat responded, stroking Bran’s hair. “When they told me you’d fallen…” she closed her eyes and looked to the side.

 

“How could you let this happen?” Ned demanded of Osha, who stood to attention.

 

“It’s not her fault! She caught me!” Bran defended Osha.

 

“Bran, let me talk to her.” Ned told his red haired son, who crossed his arms and pouted like Cat did when she was angry. “So?”

 

“Well, Prince Stark, sir.” Osha began. “Princess Elia told me to look after little Rickon and Alaric. I was already overseeing Bran and Arthur sparring outside the stables.”

 

“Where are my youngest sons now?” Ned interrupted her cooly.

 

“They’re with Sylvie, Ned.” Ash answered him. “We didn’t want them to be in here while Luwin treated Bran.“

 

“Anyway,” Osha continued, “I was watching them for a time, then I took my eye of Bran and Arthur for only a moment, because Rickon offered me some flowers he had picked. Before I knew it, Bran was on the roof of the stables. I told him to get down before be fell. Then he slipped on an icy patch. I managed to catch his upper body, but his leg slammed into the ground.” She reported. “I was trying to make sure he didn’t hit his head.”

 

“You’re a decorated officer of the Ice Guard, Osha.” Ned began. “I expect better from you.”

 

“I know sir. I’m sorry. I should have seen it earlier.”

 

“…There are many who wouldn’t have seen it at all.” Ned sighed, looking at Osha. It was clear to him that she expected to be thrown out of the Ice Guard, bringing shame to her family. She’d once told him they had been so proud of her for being chosen to be a sworn shield to a Stark. It was probably the highest honour anyone in her family had ever held. “As I imagine Bran will need to be carried everywhere, that seems a fitting enough punishment for you.”

 

She was clearly surprised by his words.

 

“Thank you, Prince Stark.” She smiled.

 

“As you were, Osha.” Ned told her, before turning to Luwin. ”How bad is it?” He asked the Druid, walking around to his side of Bran’s bed.

 

“The left leg is fractured, my Prince.” Luwin began, “He’ll walk again, but not before it’s had a chance to heal. So I prescribe plenty of bed rest for the young prince.” The old man smiled kindly down at Bran.

 

“Nooo.” Ned’s ten year old implored them, throwing his head back into his pillow. “I don’t want to stay in here all day.”

 

“Well it’s a good thing Osha will be here to carry you around then.” Ned chuckled, placing a hand on Bran’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alright though… relatively speaking.”

 

Ned heard the thundering feet of running children outside Bran’s door and shouts of “Where is he!? Is he alright!?” The door to Bran’s room burst open, as Arya and Alyrianne ran into the room, closely followed by their bounding direwolves.

 

“Are you alright!?” The two two-and-ten year olds asked breathlessly as they ran over to Bran’s bed.

 

“Are you alright?” “Are your legs going to fall off?” “Are you going to die?”

 

“Girls! Girls.” Elia tried to corral the twins, taking them by the shoulders to calm them down. “Your brother’s had a fall. Let’s please use our in-door voices, so we don’t disturb him.” She said calmly. Both the identical girls looked up at her with their big grey eyes, looking very guilty.

 

“Sorry mother.” They both said.

 

“How could you let this happen?” Alyrianne thundered at Osha with all the might a two-and-ten year old girl could muster. “You’re meant to look after him!”

 

“Alyri,” Ned gently said to his daughter. “I’ve already dealt with it.”

 

“Bran’s going to be fine, sweetlings.” Cat got up from sitting next to Ash to go to their daughters. “He’ll just need to stay in bed for a while.” The twins walked over to Bran’s bed standing beside him.

 

“Stupid!” Arya said, before punching Bran’s shoulder.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Arya!” Ash scolded her. “You do not punch your siblings!”

 

“You scared us!” Alyrianne said to Bran, before going to punch his other shoulder. As Ned knew it was coming, he caught it in time.

 

“Girls, if neither of you can behave. You’ll both wait outside.” He said sternly, before turning to a more gentle approach. “I know this scared you, but that’s no excuse to hurt your brother. Now apologise to him.”

 

“I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry, Bran.” They said in unison.

 

Soon enough, Jon and Rhaenys came through the open door, looking at Bran. Jon went straight to Bran’s bedside next to Arya and Cat.

 

“We just heard.” Jon said, “How are you feeling?” He asked Bran.

 

“My leg hurts, but the rest of me’s fine.” Bran told him. Jon nodded, happily accepting that Bran was alright before he turned to Osha.

 

“How could you let this happen?” He said.

 

Again?

 

“Jon.” Ned stoped his son, “I’ve handled it.”

 

“Who are you?” Rhaenys asked Tyene, who had been standing, quiet and unnoticed in the corner until now.

 

“Tyene?” Ash asked, turning around, clearly surprised to see her in Winterfell. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to visit Rhaenys.” Tyene said, almost sheepishly. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

 

“Yes!” Rhaenys happily flung her arms around Tyene. “Yes! It is good to finally meet you! How long have you been here?”

 

It seemed Rhaenys was delighted to have one of her cousins visit her. Ned decided it probably wasn’t the best time to tell her that until about twenty minutes ago, Tyene had been fucking him and Rhaenys’ mother together.

 

Rhaenys’ delight was brought to an abrupt end when Robert walked into the room, seeming a little too merry for just after midday. He was wearing his riding clothes, clear having expected to be out on a hunt a while ago.

 

“There you are, Ned!” Robert pointed at him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

 

“Robert, my son has injured himself. I won’t be going hunting with you today.” Ned told the King outright.

 

“Oh. Well, i’m sorry to hear that.” Robert realised where he was. “This him?” He gestured to Bran, Ned nodded. “Well, hope you get well soon lad.” He said, seemingly putting on an act as fatherly as he could manage.

 

“Luwin says it’s only a fracture.” Bran told Robert.

 

“Well, you’ll be up on your feet in no time then.” Robert smiled down at him. “I’ll leave you to your family then, Ned.” Robert said as he began to leave. “I do hope this won’t keep us here much longer. You and I have seven kingdoms to run. Ha!”

 

If looks could kill, Cat would have murdered Robert a dozen times over as he walked away.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It had been a busy day for Ned so far. He had begun it by fucking Elia, Tyene and his wives in the morning, giving them all copious amounts of his seed. Both of his wives had really taken to his new lover. Watching them fuck Tyene into unconsciousness with mummer’s cocks in her arse and cunt while Elia sucked his cock was something he would long remember.

 

After his liaison with his lovers, Ned had mounted Snowsong and flown to where the black powder weapons were being tested, about a hundred miles north-east of Winterfell, in an abandoned holdfast near a quarry. Monfryd had proudly informed him that Seven-hundred men of the Winter Wolves were now able to reliably hit a target at long range using his personal Thunderers.

 

He had shown Ned just how effective they were when he had set up several butchered pigs to hang as targets and told a hundred men to shoot at them. The sound even just a hundred of them made while being used was deafening, small wonder they were called Thunderers.

 

Ned had been astonished to see that there was practically nothing left of the carcasses that had been hanging as targets. A hundred shots had torn the things to bloody pieces. Thoughts of what it would look like when they were used on living people had crossed his mind.

 

Certainly unpleasant.

 

When he had returned on dragon-back, Ned found his children were flying their dragons in circles above Winterfell, putting on a show for their siblings who were still too young to fly. He decided to join them and urged Snowsong forth.

 

There was six dragons in the sky, including Snowsong. Rhaenys was riding Salvation, a small, young dragon, but she was well on her way to being as large as the others eventually. She flew circles around Robb, who was riding the much bigger Gnasher, the dragon that had been Ned’s older brother’s.

 

Jon was on Moonhowler, the long neck and less than sunny disposition showing the inherited traits of it’s sire: Caraxes. Snowsong greeted her noisy offspring with a roar, that Moonhowler quickly acknowledged.

 

Alysanne and Sansa were circling each other, on Starburst and Sunbeam, laughing all the way. The two sisters gracefully dancing together in the sky. Salvation, Starburst and Sunbeam were the youngest and smallest of the three dragons, with Snowsong being by far the largest.

 

The other five quickly fell into formation behind Snowsong, popularly called “The Snow queen of house Stark”. The six dragons flew in a V-formation over the city multiple times, to the roaring cheers of the people below. After a time, they broke off their formation and started free flying again. It did not escape Ned’s notice, how Rhaenys would often fly upside down above Robb, no doubt trying to tease him over the near deafening wind.

 

Ned would rather have stayed in the sky with his children all day, but he had other duties, as did they. With a loud whistle and a roar from Snowsong, they all landed their dragons in the landing arena in Winterfell.

 

“THAT WAS AMAZING!!” Arthur Stark shouted as he ran up to them, as fast as his nine year old legs would take him. Barker, his direwolf, easily keeping up.

 

The rest of Ned’s children were watching with others in the stands. Ned quickly unstrapped himself from Snowsong’s harness and jumped down to the ground, where Arthur launched himself into his father’s arms without question. It never failed to warm Ned’s heart, how much unquestioning faith his children had in him.

 

“Give it a few years, you’ll be up there with us, riding on Dawnbreaker.” Ned chuckled to his son.

 

“I wanna fly now!” Arthur said excitedly, his dark hair ruffled and grey eyes full of hope.

 

“Is Barker not enough for you?” Ned asked. “You can already ride him.”

 

“I’m great at riding Barker, look!” Arthur said as he tried to wriggle over to his direwolf. Ned placed Arthur carefully on Barker’s back. The boy gripped Barker’s fur in his little fists and shouted “Yah!”

 

The direwolf began to trot slowly around the dragons. Though to hear Arthur giggling, he was galloping like a racing horse.

 

“That was very… Impressive, Prince Stark.” Ned heard Tyene’s sultry dornish voice.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed our show.” Ned responded, taking off his leather gloves and stuffing them into his belt. “I’d be happy to take you up there again.”

 

“I feel once was more than enough for me.” Tyene smiled, embarrassed.

 

Rhaenys had offered to take Tyene into the sky with her, they day they met. Tyene had eagerly accepted an opportunity to bond with her cousin. However, their trip had ended rather quickly, when Tyene had vomited on Rhaenys mid-flight. Since then, she had been much happier to watch, rather than fly.

 

“Trying to get her to fly again?” Rhaenys asked as she cut in, she had just dismounted from Salvation, still sweaty in her riding leathers.

 

“As I said, I feel once was enough, princess.” Tyene smiled at Rhaenys. “Still, I suppose you’ve seen worse reactions from first-time flyers.”

 

“…No, not really.” Rhaenys laughed.

 

“If you could please excuse Rhaenys and I, Tyene.” Ned said, “I need to talk to her for a moment.” Tyene bowed her head and left, Rhaenys looked up to him, confused.

 

“What about?” She asked.

 

“I have something for you.” Ned chuckled, before leading her away from the landing arena. “You’re getting good on your dragon.” He told her, passing the time as they walked through Winterfell.

 

“Yes,” Rhaenys grinned. “She’s a special beast. I feel truly myself when i’m up in the clouds on dragon-back.”

 

“You are a Targaryen. Dragon riding is in your blood.” Ned agreed, he felt similarly with Fang. The Starks and their dragons shared a close bond, but there was nothing that could compare to the relationship between a direwolf and it’s Stark. They were one, two parts of the same whole, bonded at birth. “One day soon, you will have a direwolf of your own as well.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Have you picked out a name?”

 

“Mooney. For all the howling at the moon she’ll be doing.” She laughed.

 

“Here we are.” Ned said as they finally arrived at his solar, opening the door for her. Rhaenys thanked him as they walked into the room, where she saw four wooden boxes on his desk.

 

“Rhaenys,” Ned began. “I regret that I won’t be here for your and Robb’s wedding. So, I have decided to give you, your wedding gifts early.” He walked over to the smallest of the boxes and took out a plain golden ring. “This was a gift from your ancestor, Nymeria, to house Stark after we helped her conquer Dorne.”

 

Ned took the ring and placed in on his finger, the gold moulded to the right size of it’s own accord. With a flash of magical energy, he summoned a golden spear appeared in his hand using the ring.

 

“Wow…” Rhaenys marvelled at the golden spear, enraptured by the ancient Rhoyish engravings.

 

“This is the spear of Ny-Amanan: Nymeria’s spear. It’s name roughly translates to ‘The spear of four winds’. It is a fitting gift for one of Nymeria’s descendants.”

 

“Thank you… Prince Stark-“ Rhaenys began.

 

“Ned…”

 

“Ned… This is more than I could have wished.”

 

Ned dismissed the spear and took off the ring, handing it to Rhaenys.

 

“There’s more.” He told her, with a smile. He walked over to the long wooden box and opened it, revealing a sword of Valyrian steel. “It strikes me, that you are a child of two peoples.” Ned said as he took the curved sword from the box and drew it from it’s sheath, allowing the light to reflect off the many ripples in the beautiful blade. “So you should receive gifts honouring both sides of your heritage. To that end, allow me to present to you with the ‘Widow’s Kiss’, the sword of Rhaenys Targaryen. I am told that it is enchanted to enhance your firebending abilities.”

 

Ned handed the hilt to Rhaenys, who swung it through the air with skill and purpose. She held it up as flames licked along her hand up the curved blade, all the way to the tip. It was certainly mesmerising to see the fire-sword cut through the air.

 

“This is too much…” Rhaenys began to say. “I… do not need these gifts.”

 

“I know you don’t.” Ned cut in. “But I want to give them to you. You are marrying my son. You are a part of my family. I’ve raised since you were a small girl and you’ve become a fine young woman. You are strong and wise, Rhaenys and I am very proud of you.” Ned could see tears welling in Rhaenys’ eyes as she sniffed.

 

In all honesty, Ned was not that far behind her. It was not often when he and Rhaenys spoke candidly about how they felt about each other. She was always very grateful to him for what he had done for her. Not realising what Ned had done for her was what any parent would do.

 

She was his daughter in every way that mattered. He would make sure the knew that before he headed south. Rhaenys looked at him with glassy eyes, as she put the sword back into it’s sheath. Rhaenys turned to leave before Ned stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going? I still have more gifts.”

 

“Did Robb, Jon and Alysanne get this many gifts?” She giggled.

 

“You’ve no idea.” Ned smiled in response. “Now, here I give you something else from your Rhoynar roots.” Ned opened the other wooden book on his desk, reaching inside, he took out a large and heavy book. “This is an ancient book of Rhoynish water maigc, also given to house Stark be Nymeria. I thought, as you already have fire, you should probably have water magic too.”

 

“Thank you!” Rhaenys gushed as she accepted the book from his hands, carefully opening the book and pouring over it’s contents. “Is this it? Or are you planning to give me Jonothor’s hammer too.” They both laughed together.

 

“Many a Starks have tried to write themselves into the annuls of our house by being worthy of Jonothor’s hammer. Wouldn’t it be funny if you were one of the few who were worthy.” Ned chuckled.

 

He wouldn’t lie, there was a time when he was a second son and he dreamed of wielding that mighty hammer, mastering the storm and using it against his foes. According to legend, Jonothor had made it even more powerful than Foebreaker, the Baratheon hammer.

 

Seeing the power Robert wielded with his family hammer certainly made Ned jealous when he was young. But then Ice fell to him and he realised how painful it was to take up his father’s weapon after he had fallen.

 

His jealousy of Robert’s hammer had quickly disappeared.

 

Ned would have given Ice back in an instant if it could buy another day with his father.

 

“This is the final gift.” Ned said, taking out a small box as Rhaenys put the book down. “I have given you gifts relating to your two bloodlines: Valyrian and Rhoynar. Now I shall give you a gift honouring the family you are coming to and the place that has been your home for most of your life.” He opened to box to reveal a long dagger of pure Uru. “This is dagger has been made in the same fashion as Ice was, eight thousand years ago. I even used my own blood to enhance it.” Rhaenys took the dagger into her hand and held it aloft. “It is yours now. It will only obey you.”

 

She threw the dagger at the wall, then called it back to her hand before it hit, a layer of glowing-blue ice covering it. The tears were now falling freely down Rhaenys’ face, even as she smiled.

 

“You are the only father I have ever known.” She said with a shaky voice. “To me, you have been the King of any room you walked in to for as long as I can remember.” She dropped her gifts on the desk and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.

 

“I’m sorry I have nothing to give you in return.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

 

“Raising you these past twenty years has been a gift. Every day.” Ned told her the truth, as his hand stroked her hair.

 

“Every day?”

 

“Eh, most days…” they laughed together.

 

“I suppose… I do have something…” she mumbled as she pulled away from him. “As i’m marrying Robb soon anyway, it doesn’t really matter… I’m carrying Robb’s babe in my belly.”

 

Ned was stunned into silence. Each second stretch to eternity, Ned only forced himself to speak once he noticed a hint of fear in Rhaenys’ eyes.

 

He laughed like he had never laughed before. Sweeping Rhaenys up into his arms, he spun around the room with her. Soon enough, father and daughter were laughing together.

 

“A babe? Are you sure?” Ned asked when he could finally stop laughing out of joy and take a breath.

 

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Rhaenys giggled, smiling and crying ing equal measure. “You’re the first person, other than Robb, to know. You’re going to be a grand-sire.”

 

“Thank you, Rhaenys.” Ned said as she hugged her tight.

 

 

—————————

 

 

There were many tears as the stood in the courtyard on the day Ned was leaving. Quite a few were surprised when Elia kissed Ned as wantonly as Cat and Ash did, in front of the whole Royal party as well. She had whispered to him Rhaenys told her what he had done and thanked him, for everything.

 

After Ned bid farewell to his women and the children who were staying, he mounted Fang and went to the head of the group with Robert. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach as he rode through Winterfell city. Two miles away from Winterfell, he turned back to take it in one last time, before urging Fang south.

Notes:

And that’s another chapter done! That was certainly a fun one to write, you’ve got Tyene unexpectedly popping up and doing stuff with Elia too. The Rhaenys Ned stuff was certainly fun to write, he’s practically turning her into a walking armoury. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, the first chapter of the new year. As always, remember to like, comment and subscribe.

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Until we meet again, on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 16: Chapter 11

Notes:

Just an FYI, there’s an attempted rape scene in the chapter. It doesn’t succeed, but if you want to skip it anyway, look for the XXXXXXXXXX markings.

Ned

 

They had been travelling south down the king’s road for nearly two weeks. With no inns or other lodgings for dozens of miles, the North was truly vast. The royal party had made camp in a clearing off the main road.

 

Ned was just about to drift off into a restful sleep when he had received a summons from Robert. Alyn, his Ice Guard for the night, roused Ned from his slumber. Shade, his sour Shadowcat, had lazily hissed at the intruder from her position at the foot of Ned’s bed, baring her fangs. He had groaned, climbing over a very naked Triss and Yennefer, and made his way out of his tent on stiff legs.

 

There he saw Fang, his mighty black direwolf, wearing his saddle, with Robert mounted on a horse beside him. The king wore a heavy fur cloak with a large hood. Ned thought he looked half like a bear sitting on a horse.

 

“Come Ned!” Robert’s voice boomed. “Up! It’s nearly dawn and we’ve matters of state to discuss.”

 

“By all means, your grace.” Ned opened the flap of his tent, trying to entice Robert into relative warmth and comfortable chairs, rather than ride out into the misty morning. “We can talk in my tent.”

 

“No, Ned.” Robert answered him, his breath rising in great clouds of steam. “The camp is full of ears. Besides…” he laughed “I want to see some of this country of yours.”

 

Now the sleep was leaving Ned’s eyes, he could see that two of Robert’s King’s Gaurd, along with a dozen gaurdsmen stood behind him, waiting. It took barely a few minutes for Ned to wake up properly, get dressed and mount his direwolf.

 

Robert’s horse was clearly made uneasy by the close proximity to Fang, Ned couldn’t blame it. Even though it was a large warhorse, bred for it strength and size, Fang near dwarfed it. Ned’s direwolf could rip the horse’s head off before it could blink… and the horse knew it. Thankfully, Robert kept a firm grip on his mount, setting a quick pace, driving his destrier hard, Fang easily matched it. Shade was probably his fastest mount, on land. But trying to rouse his Shadowcat from sleep would be a risky venture.

 

Ned could feel the fear in Robert’s horse, not only was this wolf much larger than it, but it could seemingly easily keep pace with it too. Even when it was nearing a full sprint. Ned reached out and soothed it with his mind. His warging abilities had always been useful when dealing with animals that feared Fang.

 

Ned called out a question to Robert as they rode, he either did not hear Ned, or chose not to answer. Robert lead them off the kingsroad and through the mist, across plains and over grassy hills.

 

Their guard had fallen behind, out of earshot. Only Hagman’s eagle flew overhead, Ned knew his Ice Guard were watching over them, even though Robert did not, yet still Robert pushed his horse to go faster.

 

The first touches of dawn broke as they crested a ridge, golden light reflected off the thin layer of snow and frost, turning their breath into shimmering clouds. Robert finally drew to a stop as he gazed into the rising sun, partially hidden behind thick clouds, Ned urged Fang to stand next to Robert’s horse.

 

“Ohh, fuck me!” Robert laughed. “I feel twenty years younger! It’s not dragon riding… but it’s the next best thing. I swear by all the gods Ned, winter will come and go, and come again before we get back to King’s Landing.”

 

Robert had his sympathies, at least he and Sansa could fly on their dragons when riding with the royal party got too boring. Even Arya had Nymeria to ride. The king, however, had to keep his feet firmly on the ground, riding a horse. Robert had never been a patient man and he did love to fly on dragonback. “That fucking wheelhouse… Every hole, every bump in the rode, it navigates them as if it were made of glass.”

 

“Considering how many times it’s broken down, I wouldn’t doubt it.” Ned snarked.

 

“Ha! Neither would I!”

 

Multiple times Ned or Robert had been asked to lift the massive wooden structure, so parts of it could be repaired. His and Robert’s magical enhancements had given them the strength of many men, the ladies of the court certainly seemed to enjoy when they showed it.

 

“I promise you, if that wretched thing breaks another axel, i’m going to burn it and Cersei can walk!”

 

“I’ll gladly light the torch for you.”

 

“Good man!” Robert clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “I’ve half a mind to leave them all behind and just keep going.” That sounded like the old Robert.

 

“I do believe you mean it.”

 

“I do.” Robert answered. “What do you say, Ned? Just you and me: Two vagabond knights on the kingsroad, our swords at our sides and the gods know what in front of us… Maybe a few wenches to warm our beds at night.”

 

“We have duties now, Robert… to the realm, our children and our wives…”

 

“Easy for you to say.” Robert grumbled. “You’ve practically got three wives, and each of them better than Cersei… Though you’ve always had luck with the ladies.” Robert barked out a laugh. “Was it Evelyn Arryn I caught you fucking behind that tree, or the other one?”

 

“I think it was Evelyn.” The both laughed. “We are not the boys we once were.” Ned added sadly, mourning the the carefree days of their youth.

 

“You were never the boy you were.” Robert was back to grumbling. Then he paused, gazing off into the misty sunrise thoughtfully. “Stormbreaker isn’t as young as he was either…” he finally said. Ned shifted in his saddle. Robert hadn’t come north riding his dragon, meaning his dragon wasn’t even able to fly the distance anymore. It was a sad thing. Ned’s mind thought back to Cannibal at the end of the rebellion. How the once mighty beast had become a shadow of itself. Once the tyrant of the skies, it was a shell of a dragon, too easily slain by Snowsong.

 

“He used to have a roar that shook the very foundations of the Red Keep.” Robert cleared his throat. “Now, the most he can manage are croaks and growls… He spends most of his days sleeping in the dragonpit… Every day, I think ‘This is as well as he’s going to be, he’ll only go down from here.’”

 

“Don’t think like that Robert.” Ned urged his friend, knowing how much he cared for his dragon. “It’ll be good for him to see Snowsong again.”

 

Robert gave Ned a sad smile. “Aye. He’ll like that very much.”

 

Wanting to change the subject to something happier, Ned cast his eye over the plains they were overseeing, dawn’s sunlight. “The barrows of the First Men.” He pointed them out to Robert.

 

Well, maybe not happier…

 

“Have we ridden onto a graveyard?” Robert frowned.

 

“There are barrows everywhere in the North, your grace.” Ned told him. “It is an old land.”

 

“Aye, a cold one too...” Robert pulled his cloak tighter around him. They sat on their mounts in silence for a time, before Ned broke it with a question.

 

“What did you bring me out here for, Robert?”

 

“There was a rider in the night, from Lord Varys in King’s Landing.” Robert told him, pulling a paper from his belt and handing it over.

 

Thoughts of Lysa’s message ran through Ned’s mind as he wondered what Robert’s spymaster had sent him. Relief washed over him when the message made no mention of Lysa.

 

“So Daenerys Targaryen is to marry a horse lord.” Ned said, dismissively. “What of it? Do you want me to send her a wedding gift on behalf of the crown?”

 

“A knife, perhaps.” The king frowned. “A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it.”

 

Ned was too tired to feign surprise. Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness that had gripped him at his core. Ned had long since buried Rhaegar Targaryen and his mad father, Robert should have done the same by now.

 

“Your grace, this girl is little more than a child.”

 

“She’s older than we were, when we took the Iron throne. This girl , as you call her has had two decades to plot her revenge.”

 

“You don’t know that.” Ned retorted. “She’s innocent of her father’s and brother’s crimes.”

 

“And how long will she remain an innocent?” Robet’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “Soon she’ll be spreading her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me… Her mother’s been doing the same. After she fled to Essos, she took up with some sea captain and gave her daughter two more sisters.”

 

“Then why would Rhaella Targaryen risk what little she has left by trying to take back Westeros?” Ned asked Robert.

 

“Revenge Ned!” Robert thundered, storm clouds gathering overhead, making his horse uneasy. “Gods! You can be blind sometimes.” The king breathed in and out slowly, dispersing the clouds before they became heavy rain. “That Khal Drogo is said to have a horde of a hundred-thousand. What do you say to that?”

 

“I say a hundred-million Dothraki are no threat to the realm. It matters not how many there are, when they’re on another continent.” Ned replied, calmly. “The barbarians have no ships. They hate and fear the open sea. Not to mention the fact that they seem to have an aversion to wearing proper armour and using any other strategy than ‘Charge head-long into the enemy in an unorganised, undisciplined horde’. The Dothraki are made for vast, open and temperate plains. They wouldn’t last three moons in Westeros, come winter time.”

 

Robert walked his horse around Ned a few times, clearly trying to find weaknesses in his argument. “That may be so…” he said, finally. “There are still those in the Seven kingdoms who call me Usurper. Give them half the chance and the scum will join a Targaryen who lands on out shores with an army.”

 

“Of course,” Ned answered Robert. “Because the lords of the Seven kingdoms will unquestioningly follow a girl, who’s never set foot on Westeros. Who leads a foreign army that will almost certainly raid their lands and kill their people.”

 

“You shouldn’t be sarcastic, Ned.” Robert stated, after a time. “It doesn’t suit you… Come, let’s ride.”

 

He kicked his horse into motion again, galloping up over the barrow, raining down earth behind him. For a moment, Ned did not follow, he ran his hands through Fang’s thick black fur, scratching his direwolf behind his ear.

 

He wondered what he was doing going south, if it was possible for him to succeed and save Robert from the Lannisters and himself. Jon Arryn had failed to curb Robert’s wildness and teach him wisdom.

 

Do I have much of a chance? He asked himself.

 

The answer did not matter. He knew he belonged in Winterfell, with his wives and children. A man cannot always be where he belongs, Ned. His father’s words rang through his head. With a sigh, he put his heels into Fang’s side, setting off after Robert.

 

 

—————————

 

 

More than three weeks passed before the royal party reached Moat Cailin. It had been many years since Ned had laid eyes on the North’s gatehouse. Lord Rogar Martark and his family had greeted them. The Martarks were a cadet branch of house Stark that had been gifted Moat Cailin for their loyal service. They presided over one of the most important and formidable castles in the North.

 

Not only did Moat Cailin stand in the path of the only road out of the Neck, it also stood at the halfway point of the Great Canal, between White Harbour and the Blaze keep. Given it’s great strategic importance, control of Moat Cailin was an absolute necessity. It had thrown back countless invasions from the south since it’s creation. Ned needed to make sure it could throw back more.

 

The Martarks were not the only old friends Ned had met with when the got to Moat Cailin, Howland Reed had been there to greet him. Ned had throughly enjoyed seeing the man he had called a brother again. Howland had given them scouts so that they could safely find their way through the Neck.

 

It had taken them three weeks to cross the marshland, rumbling down a crooked causeway through an endless dense bog. The air had been damp and clammy, the causeway had been so narrow, they could not even make a proper camp at night, they had to stop on the kingsroad. The only ways that their dragons could land was to rest on half-drowned trees that were sticking out of the marsh. More than once, Snowsong fought a swamp wyvern that thought it could take a bite out of the column.

 

Huge flowers bloomed in mud and floated in stagnant water, drawing travellers off the path. Leaving it would take them to quicksands that waited to suck unweary people to their deaths. Snakes slithering along the reeds and lizard-lions floating half-submerged like black logs with eyes and teeth. All these dangers made Ned keep a close eye on all his people as they traveled.

 

It was little wonder, Ned had thought, that the Neck was as good as the Wall for keeping out invaders. The very land itself tried to kill all travellers, and that was ignoring the inhabitants of the Neck. The Cranogmen and the Lizardmen of the Neck were loyal to house Stark and some of the deadliest hunters in Westeros.

 

In the past, multiple invasions of the North had been defeated before they even reached the walls of Moat Cailin, thanks to the inhabitants of the Neck.

 

None of these dangers had deterred Arya, however. One day, she had come back with a massive grin, her hair was tangled and her clothes were covered in mud. She had been clutching a ragged bunch of purple and green flowers for him. He had hugged her and thanked her for the gift.

 

She’d told him she’d seen a chameleon skink when she was picking them. Ned had told her that if there was a chameleon skink, it was very unlikely that she actually saw it. Chameleon skinks were the best hunters of the lizardmen, practically undetectable and very deadly.

 

Unfortunately, it had turned out that the flowers had been called “poison kisses” and Arya got rashes on her hands and arms. After that, Ned had quickly put a stop to her explorations until they had left the Neck. Hoping that she would be kept out of trouble.

 

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Arya

 

 

It had been three days since Arya and Nymeria had run off into the woods. Three days of no hot food and sleeping cuddled up to Nymeria’s fur. The woods had grown dark and cold in the night. Arya shivered as she pressed herself against Nymeria.

 

Joffrey is evil. Was the only thought going through her mind.

 

She’d been playing with Mycah, the butcher’s boy. If Alyrianne had come with them, she’d have been practicing with her younger ‘twin’ instead. She’d been practicing for when she would use Needle, the sword Jon had given her before she went away. It was a long and skinny sword, of the Braavosi style, made from pure black Uru.

 

Her and Mycah had been using sticks to practice sword fighting by the river when Joffrey and Sansa had happened upon them. When Arya had first seen the prince, she’d thought he was a smarmy shit, he quickly proved her to be right.

 

Joffrey had attacked Mycah, then her, when she’d tried to stop him. Sansa had been screaming at him to stop when Nymeria had saved her. Her horse-sized direwolf had near ripped Joffrey’s arm off. Arya had thrown his sword into the river and run off into the woods, with Sansa calling after her.

 

The king’s going to be so angry . She thought.

 

Attacking a prince could mean death. They’d kill Nymeria, maybe even her too, if they found them. She’d been sitting by a tree with Nymeria when she’d heard Lannister men searching for them, she’d quickly mounted Nymeria and rode deeper into the forest.

 

A cold breeze went right through her dirty clothes, cutting right to the bone. Arya pressed her face to Nymeria’s fur again, finding comfort in the warmth of her direwolf.

 

Nymeria was alert as she sat on her haunches by a tree, her eyes were open and her ear were pricked up. She was weary of any who would come to harm Arya. On the second day, a couple of Drowners came of out the river and tried to eat her, but Nymeria had easily despatched the slimy blue Necrophages. Her uncle Beric had taught her all about them, the North was too cold for most types of Necrophages, but Beric, in his travels as a Witcher had seen his fair share of them.

 

“What is it?” Arya asked her wolf, as Nymeria suddenly stood up, looking at an outcropping of birch trees by the riverbank. She placed her hand on the back of Nymeria’s neck and used her warging connection to expand her senses.

 

Leather… mead… ink…?

 

They were familiar smells Arya knew… The Chosen Men!

 

“I’m here!” She called out to them and quickly enough, all six of her father’s Chosen Men came out from behind a bush.

 

“Princess!” Harper called out, throwing open his arms as she ran into them. Arya felt truly safe for the first time in three days, in Harper’s arms.

 

“I said, I saw her.” Hagman said in a wry tone, smiling at Cooper. “You doubted my eagle.”

 

“And I never shall again.” Cooper responded, smiling.

 

“Are you hurt, Princess?” Harper asked her as he pulled apart from her and knelt down, looking her up and down.

 

“N-no.” Arya managed to stammer out.

 

“Your father’s been worried sick, Princess.” Harris said, earnestly. “Him an’ your sister were on their dragons day and night looking for you.”

 

“We’re going to take you to your father now.” Harper told her as he stood up. “And give her some food lads and a cloak, she’s starving and cold as anything.”

 

Cooper, removed his cloak and wrapped it around her. Perkins took a hunk of bread out of a pouch and handed it to her. Arya thanked him before hungrily bitting down on it, tearing off a chunk with her teeth. Bread had never tasted better.

 

“W-what about Nymeria?” Arya asked, mouth full of bread. The six men looked at each other, unsure what to do.

 

“The queen’s not likely to look kindly on the pup if we bring her back.” Harper said. “Let’s have her wait out here until we can send someone to… take her home, perhaps.”

 

“I won’t leave her!” Arya shouted, as Nymeria gave a small whine, looking from Arya to the men.

 

“Listen, child…” Hagman said, kneeling down. “She’ll be fine out here: She’s a direwolf. There’s no way they’ll be able to find a direwolf that doesn’t want to be found. We can take you back to your father, then we’ll send someone out to get her.”

 

Arya took a long look into Nymeria’s golden eyes. “You’ll have to stay…” she told her wolf, who whined again, nuzzling her tears. “Please…” she begged. “Stay here. We’ll come back for you...”

 

With that, she went with her father’s guards. Nymeria followed them for a few steps, then Arya had to shout at her, telling her to run. Arya hated herself a little when Nymeria had slunk away, her head hanging low.

 

It was a long ride to the keep, Harper told her that the royal party had taken up residence in the castle of Ser Raymun Darry in the days they had ben searching for her.

 

Eventually, they reached the castle and were stopped at the gates by a King’s Guard in pure white armour and near twenty Lannister men. The Chosen Men closed ranks around Arya when they got off their horses.

 

“So you found the girl.” The man in the white armour said. Arya couldn’t help but compare him to her uncle Arthur in her mind. She found him lacking.

 

“Aye…” Harper answered the knight, standing in front of Arya. She tried to look around him but Cooper and Isiah got in her way, shielding her from the Lannister men.

 

“The queen has ordered us to bring the girl to her and the king.” The kinght’s cold voice boomed from his helmet, he was trying to intimidate them.

 

“…Has she? Well… Princess Arya’s father, the Warden of the North and Hand of the King, ordered us to bring his daughter to him when we found her.” Harper answered nonchalantly, placing a hand on the hilt of his ice sword.

 

“The queen has ordered that the Stark girl be brought to her.” The King’s Guard emphasised again, his own hand going to the pommel of his own sword. The other Lannister guards around him began to straighten up, itching to reach for their weapons.

 

“Did she? Well that’s grand… But I take my orders from the Stark of Winterfell.” Harper affirmed, much to the knight’s clear frustration.

 

“Give her to me!” He shouted, before making a grab for her. The hilt of Harper’s weapon hit the knight’s white helmet with a metallic clang, knocking him back a step.

 

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll put one through your eye…” Hagman threatened. The tall, thin Chosen man drawing and arrow with his weirwood bow before anyone could react.

 

“I am a knight of the King’s Guard!” The knight roared, Arya could clearly see he was horrified that his authority meant nothing to Harper. Perhaps he was also worried that Harper had actually managed to hurt him. The King’s Guard went through all manner of magical enchantments, making them super-human, even more so than regular knights… But so did the Chosen Men.

 

“I’m sure your father is very proud… Let. Us. Pass.” Harper answered, glowing blue ice slowly extending from his sword hilt, turning into a blade of pure ice.

 

“You’re mad… There’re twenty of us and six of you!”

 

“True…” Harper said. Arya saw him looking at the Lannister men, then the Chosen Men. “…We’ll wait for you to round up a few more friends, so it can be an even fight.” The Chosen Men chuckled as they slowly drew their weapons.

 

“You’ll die for this.” The knight threatened, drawing his own blade, golden runes glowing along the hilt.

 

“Lovely weather for it…” Hagman said, solemnly, as the light rain began to fall.

 

“You’d die for a little girl?” The knight asked.

 

“Ned’s little girl.” Harper answered, simply.

 

Arya felt her heart beat faster in her chest. The Chosen Men were strong, but against twenty knighted men and a King’s Guard, she doubted they would win. The tension grew as both sides stared each other down, weapons being drawn. Low thunder rumbled over-head, rain beginning to fall heavier. The silence was broken by a voice from behind the Lannister group.

 

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

 

Arya would recognise her uncle Arthur anywhere. The group of Lannister men shifted to the left and right, letting him walk right through them. He wasn’t wearing his armour, but he held a glowing white Dawn in hand. The greatsword of house Dayne resting over his shoulder.

 

Father had once told her that the sight of Arthur Dayne holding Dawn was enough to put the fear of the gods in any man. Arthur walked among the Lannisters without fear, his gaze dared them to try and attack him. Each of them would look away and pretend to not exist when he laid his eyes on them. Arthur slowly made his way over to Arya, not even acknowledging the other King’s Guard.

 

“Are you well, Princess?” He asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder, Arya nodded in response. “Where’s Nymeria?”

 

“Safe.” Harper answered Arthur for her.

 

“Good.” Arthur said, then he turned around, facing the King’s Guard. “Now… Ser?”

 

“Ser… Meryn Trant.” The white knight answered.

 

“Ahh yes… Meryn Trant. We can do this the difficult way… Or the simple way…” Uncle Arthur warned, his hands tightening around Dawn. This was going to end in bloodshed, Arya knew. She had to do something to stop it.

 

“T-take me to the king.” Arya said suddenly, they all looked at her, she mustered all the courage she could. “Get a message to my father, he’ll come quickly.”

 

“As you command, Princess.” Harper said, before they set off to see the king.

 

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

 

Ned

 

 

Ned’s mind was racing as he and Sansa closed in on the holdfast they had been staying at. Hagman’s eagle had flown up to him while he was flying Snowsong over the Trident, looking for Arya. The eagle had been carrying a note from Harris, telling him they’d found her, but were being forced to take her before the king.

 

Ned had quickly called to Sansa, who was riding her own dragon and they both made haste to the keep. A cold rage gripped him, as the keep came into view. For three days he’d been searching, not getting an hour of sleep.

 

Both he and Sansa landed their dragons outside the castle walls and quickly dismounted, both still wearing their riding leathers. Ned was aware of the eyes that followed them as the walked through the castle yard, muttering of what he might do. Fang, Shade and Borgger came bounding from the trees to trot along beside them. Lady had been confined to the kennels by order of the queen, Fang had been… less inclined, to follow orders than his pup. They hadn’t even tried to get the Shadowcat and the Snowbear into kennels. Ned and Sansa were flanked by his beasts as they made their way into he keep.

 

The king had appropriated Ser Raymun’s audience chamber and that was where Ned found them. The room was crowded when they burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robert would probably have been able to settle the matter amicably. He could see Robert was slumped in Darry’s high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen.

 

Cersei Lannister and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffrey’s shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy’s arm. Arya stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by the Chosen Men, Arthur and Beric, every eye upon her.

 

“Arya!” Both he and Sansa called, Sansa breaking into a run, taking her little sister into her arms as they both sobbed. Ned was quickly behind them, wrapping his arms around the pair of his daughters.

 

Fang, Shade and Borgger walked around the edges of the room, teeth partially bared. Men shifted uneasily around the beasts as they padded by, scared of what the direwolf and his friends might do to defend it’s kin. Arthur, Beric and The Chosen Men stood around Ned and his daughters, trying to give them some privacy.

 

Arya was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

 

“I know,” Ned consoled her. Both of his daughters felt so tiny in his arms, they were practically still children. It was hard to see how they’d caused so much trouble.

 

“Are you hurt?” Sansa asked Arya before he could.

 

“No.” Arya answered. Her face was dirty, her tears leaving pink tracks down her cheeks. “Hungry some. Perkins gave me some bread, that was all he had.”

 

“We’ll feed you soon enough.” Ned promised. He rose to face the king, donning his ‘Lord’s Face’ as Cat called it. “What is the meaning of this?” He thundered, his eyes sweeping the room, searching for friendly faces. Not counting his own men, he found few friends in the chamber. Ser Raymun Darry guarded his look well. Triss and Yennfer were standing to the side, with his men. Lord Renly wore a half smile that could mean anything and old Ser Barristan was grave; the rest were Lannister men and hostile. Arthur and Beric stood on either side of him, the former King’s Guard and the legendary Witcher were quite an imposing pair. “Why was I not told my daughter had been found?!” Ned demanded, his deep voice ringing through the chamber. “Why was she not fed and brought to me at once?!”

 

Ned had been speaking to Robert, but it was Cersei who answered for him, shrilly. “How dare you speak to your king in this manner?” At that, the king stirred.

 

“Quiet, woman!” Robert snapped, then straightened up in his seat. “I’m sorry Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done quickly.”

 

“And what business is that?” Ned put ice in his voice and lowered the temperature of the room, turning their breath to steam, a cold shiver ran through the room.

 

The queen stepped forward. “You know full well, Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son. Her and her butcher’s boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off.”

 

Fang snapped at that, certainly putting fear in the Lannister woman’s eyes.

 

“That’s not true!” Arya said loudly. “She only bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah.”

 

“If a direwolf had really wanted to rip Joffrey’s arm off, it would be gone.” Ned affirmed.

 

“Joff told us what happened.” The queen said. “You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him.”

 

“That’s not how it was!” Sansa said, Ned put a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Yes it is!” Joffrey insisted. “They all attacked me, and she threw Lion’s Tooth in the river!” Ned noticed that he did not so much as glance at Arya as he spoke.

 

“Liar!” Arya yelled.

 

“Shut up!” The prince yelled back.

 

“Enough!” The king roared, rising from his seat, his voice thick with irritation. Silence fell. He glowered at Arya through his thick beard. “Now child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.” Then he looked over to his son. “When she is done, you will have your turn.” Arya began to tell her story, Sansa giving Arya her support. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey’s sword into the Trident, Renly began to laugh. Robert bristled. “Ser Barristan, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes.”

 

Renly stifled his laughter. “My brother is too kind, I can find the door myself.”  He bowed to Joffrey. “Perchance later you can tell me how a three-and-ten year old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom-handle and throw your sword in the river.” As the door swung shut behind him, Ned heard him say “Lion’s tooth” and guffaw once more.

 

Joffrey was pale as he began his very different version of events. When his son was done talking, the king rose heavily, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here.

 

“What in the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, they say another.”

 

“They’re both lying. Can’t you see it?” Cersei said. “I want her punished.”

 

“Seven hells,” Robert swore. “Cersei look at her, she’s a child. What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets? Children fight, it’s over. No lasting harm was done.”

 

The queen was furious. “Joff will carry these scars for the rest of his life.”

 

Robert looked at his eldest son.  “So he will. Perhaps they will teach him a lesson. Ned see to it that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son.”

 

“Gladly, your grace.” Ned said as relief washed over him. Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done.

 

“And what of the direwolf?” She called after him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?” The king stopped and turned back.

 

“I’d forgotten about that damed wolf.”

 

“We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace.” Harper said quickly.

 

“No? Ah well...” Robert did not look unhappy with the news.

 

“A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me it’s skin!” Cersei raised her voice.

 

Fang growled loudly at the Lannister men, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

 

“Control your beast!” She ordered Ned.

 

“You threatened his pup.” Ned answered coldly.

 

“The wolf is gone, woman.” Robert repeated.

 

“I see one right in front of me and we have another in the stables.” Cersei said, her voice was quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph. It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably.

 

“As you will… But not Ned’s.” Was all Robert said.

 

“Robert, you cannot mean this.” Ned protested, grabbing Robet’s arm. “The direwolf is the symbol of my house. Direwolves are given to us at birth.”

 

Clearly Robert was in no mood to argue. “Enough, Ned. A direwolf is a savage beast, get her a dog, she’ll be happier for it.”

 

“He doesn’t mean Lady?” Sansa asked in shock. “Not Lady, she didn’t bite anyone. She’s good!”

 

“Lady wasn’t there!” Arya shouted. “You leave her alone!”

 

Robert was walking out of the chamber, his footsteps heavy as lead… Until Fang, Shade and Borgger blocked his exit, all three beasts growling at the king. Ser Barristan put his hand on his sword hilt.

 

“If you do this…” Ned told Robert. “You can find yourself a new Hand and a new bride for your son. I will take my men and my daughters and return to Winterfell.” And leave you to your fate. He nearly added. That certainly got a reaction from Robert, who turned and went straight for Ned.

 

“Ned.” He thundered. “I need you down south. With me!”

 

“If you let this pass, you’re no brother of mine.” Ned fixed him with an icy glare. “…But I am prepared to compromise. I can send my beasts with Lady back North, where they belong.” They would find Nymeria and bring her home too, but Ned wasn’t going to tell Robert that.

 

“Fuck.” Robert gritted his teeth, looking off to the side. “Have it your way. Send them North. I’ll hear no more of it.”

 

“Robert!” Cersei raised her voice.

 

“I’ll hear no more of it!” The king repeated and left the room.

 

Ned quickly followed Robert with his daughters, wanting to get the beasts away quickly, before Cersei got any ideas. Arya and Sansa bid a tearful goodbye to Lady as she left with Fang and the others.

 

An hour after they left, they heard the howling of wolves in the night. It was Fang, telling them that they had found Nymeria and were heading home with her.

 

For first time in days, Ned went to sleep, wondering how in all the hells he would be able to save Robert and stop the Lannisters.

 

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

 

Jon

 

 

A thin layer of freshly fallen snow covered the ground of the godswood. Steam was rising from the hot pools by the Weirwood. Jon stood with Robb and Alysanne in front of the heart tree, dressed in white and grey, the colours of their house. They were waiting for their partners to arrive: It was their wedding ceremony.

 

Lords and ladies from all over the North had come to Winterfell, to see the marriages of the three oldest Stark children. Four weeks after the king’s party had left Winterfell, all of the guests had arrived and they could finally begin.

 

The ceremony was being held in the godswood, before a weirwood heart tree as the sun set. Their wedding guests stood in two columns, with a gap for their partners to walk down. There must have been hundreds of them in the godswood. Jon could see lord Wyman Manderly, lady Galadriel of the mage’s Guild, lord Dhalark, lord Ryder and many more.

 

At the front of the crowds stood their mothers, their siblings, their aunt Lyanna with uncle Benjen and his family. Jon and Robb’s birth-mother, princess Catelyn was standing next to Rickon, with Bran in a chair as he was still unable to stand. Alysanne’s birth-mother, princess Ashara was standing next to Alyrianne, Arthur and little Alaric. Elia was standing between them, beaming them proudly.

 

Their direwolves all stood together silently, off to the side. Jon was wondering when their partners would arrive, so they could begin. He did not need to wait long. Before he knew it, they were walking down the isle, side by side.

 

Val and Ygritte took Jon’s attention first, obviously. They were both more beautiful than he had ever seen them, wearing dresses of black and gold, their house colours. Both Val and Ygritte had their hair done in an elaborate braid that went down their backs. They both fixed him with their clear blue eyes and smiled as they advanced forward.

 

After them, Jon saw Rhaenys. She was a vision of divine beauty, her jet-black hair falling in a cascade over her orange and yellow dress. Her flawless tanned skin seemed to glow in the firelight.

 

Finally came Sigorn Thenn, Alysanne’s husband-to-be, wearing a finely made tunic of grey and bronze. In their father’s absence, Robb and Jon had needed to give Sigorn a talking to before he could marry their sister. It seemed only fair as Jon had to endure several from lord Ryder and all of Ygritte and Val’s older siblings. In Jon’s opinion, entirely unfairly, Robb had managed to avoid getting a similar talking to. Mostly because Rhaenys had no living siblings, a dead father and her mother had been a third mother to them for all their lives.

 

Much to their chagrin, it was difficult to dislike Sigorn as he was such a nice person. He had proved himself worthy of Alysanne’s love many times over and in spite of Sigorn marrying Alysanne, Jon was happy to call him brother.

 

The harper’s harped and the minstrels sang as they all walked down the isle to their respective partners. Vows were exchanged before the heart tree, each of the marriages sealed with a kiss, to the ruckus applause and cheering of the wedding guests. Jon saw his Tully mother weeping happy tears throughout the entire ceremony, his Dayne mother putting a comforting arm around her.

 

After the marriages were sealed, the group made their way over to another part of the godswood, where the final ritual to joining house Stark would be carried out. Eventually, they arrived at the direwolf den, where their partners would need to find their own direwolf. The Winterfell pack knew what was happening and as they had done so many times before, they brought their pups out of the den and put them into two groups of male and female.

 

Together, they all watched as Rhaenys, Ygritte, Val and Sigorn all searched among the piles of furry pups to find their direwolf. After some time, most of it they spent playing with various direwolf pups, each of them made their choice and came back with a pup in their arms, smiling and giggling all the way.

 

 

—————————

 

 

The great hall was full to bursting. After the ceremony was completed, the feasting had begun. The newly claimed wolves had been given back to the pack, where they would remain until they had grown old enough.

 

The hour had grown late and all of Jon’s younger siblings had gone to bed, only he, Robb and Alyanne remained. As they were the Starks getting married, they were the main event of the feast. There was an almost never ending line of people who wanted to ask them to dance, or bring them gifts, or wish them well in their marriages.

 

The hall was bustling with noise, the air heavy with the smell of meat and mead. Song and merriment was felt throughout the hall, through all it’s guests. Jon felt like he had danced with a hundred partners already.

 

Guests from all over the North had come to Winterfell. From the furthest reaches of the North, to the southernmost point of the Neck. Children of the Forest had come from deep in the wolfs wood. Dwarves and mountain clansmen had come from their mountain strongholds in the Craggy Mountains.  Giants had come from the far north and were sitting at their appropriately sized tables.

 

Even the Greybeards, masters of the Thu’um, had come down from their monastery on Greatpeak Mountain, the tallest mountain in Westeros. Jon’s father had always held great respect for the Greybeards, even going to them to be taught in the ways of the Thu’um. There were guests that were even more interesting to Jon than the Greybeards however: the Children of the Sea.

 

They held kinship with the Children of the Forest, but they could live underwater and warged with the creatures of the sea. Jon had been fascinated by them ever since he had heard of them in his tutoring with Druid Luwin.

 

They were once Children of the Forest that lived on a large island off the eastern coast of the North. Through magical means, their island had been sunk, but they had also gained the ability to live happily under the sea. Since then, the Children of the Sea, as they called themselves had rarely stepped on land, only coming when called upon by the Starks.

 

Unlike their land-dwelling cousins, they had only one skin tone as far as Jon could see. They all seemed to be light blue, with long dark hair. In spite of their differences they all seemed to be sitting happily with the other guests, singing and drinking together.

 

More than once, had attractive noblewomen asked Jon for a dance, then proposed he take them outside for some “air”. He was with one of those women right now, fucking her against one of the walls of Winterfell’s corridors.

 

“Fuck me Jon! Fuck your whore!” Rayya Dhalark panted as he thrust up to the hilt inside her.

 

Rayya was the oldest daughter of house Dhalark, one of the Stark cadet branches. They had been founded by a bastard son of queen Alysanne ‘Kraken’s Bane’ Stark and a lover of her’s from the Summer Isles. The Dhalarks all had dark skin and dark hair from their Summer Islander heritage. Rayya’s own skin was looking erotically flushed from the excursion of fucking Jon while still wearing her dress.

 

Both of them were almost fully clothed. She had only unlaced his breeches and fished his cock out so he could fuck her. Rayya had lifted up her skirts, showing Jon she wore no small clothes at all and bent over for him.

 

They’d been frantically having sex in the corridor for nearly ten minutes by Jon’s reckoning. Neither were trying to draw out their lovemaking. This was a quick and dirty affair, just the way they liked it.

 

Jon was holding Rayya up against they wall now, with her bare legs wrapped around his waist as he ploughed her. She moaned into his embrace as they kissed, their tongues hungrily fighting for dominance.

 

“Keep it down.” Jon chuckled when they pulled apart. “We don’t want people to hear us.”

 

“You’re fucking me in… uh, ah! …In a corridor…” Rayya moaned in response.

 

“It was your idea.”

 

“You weren’t complaining…”

 

“A beautiful woman was asking me to fuck her, what did you expect?”

 

“Oh shut up and suck on my tits.” Rayya laughed as she pressed his head down to her cleavage.

 

Jon wasn’t too displeased by that. Her large, dusky breasts had bounced out of her bodice, exposing her coal-black nipples to the cool air. Jon eagerly took one into his mouth and began to suck as he thrust harder.

 

That did it.

 

Within seconds Rayya was coming to an explosive end around him, her head tilted back, biting her lip as she trembled. Feeling Rayya’s cunt tighten around him, made Jon climax quite soon after. He jammed his cock as far as he could and sent forth a torrent of his seed, filling her womb with potential Stark bastards. The idea made him laugh.

 

“It’s the day of my wedding and here I am, fucking you...”

 

“Maybe next time you can bring your wives.” Rayya gave him a wink as she unwrapped herself from him, standing up straight, neatening her rumpled dress. “I miss Ygritte’s tongue.”

 

They both made themselves presentable again before they returned to the feast. They walked back into the hall together, then separated to go back to their tables.

 

Jon saw both his mothers and his aunt talking and laughing with lord Dhalark as Rayya was walking towards them. He decided to quicken his step, lest they work out what he had been doing with Rayya. She would no-doubt be very amused by his mother’s disappointment in him fucking another women before he’d even lain with his brides yet. Not mention lord Dhalark scaring Jon a little, though not so much that he wouldn’t fuck his daughter again, given the chance.

 

It was a short distance back to the main table, where Ygritte, Val, Robb and Rhaenys sat, eating their food. It seemed they were still on the main course of the feast. A great stuffed boar sat on a platter in the middle of the table. Rhaenys had torn off a leg of the boar and was chomping down on the well-done meat.

 

“That’s the fourth so far.” Ygritte smirked up at Jon as he sat between his new wives.

 

“You better have a least some left for your new brides.” Val purred, giving him a sultry look as she brushed her hand over his lap.

 

“I don’t recall Jon ever having that problem.” Rhaenys stated, looking up from her meal across the table.

 

“Robb neither.” Ygritte added.

 

“It’s a Stark gift…” Robb laughed, taking a wine goblet to his lips.

 

“One i’m sure the women of the North a very grateful for.” Rhaenys joked.

 

“Absolutely!” “Yes we are!” Both Val and Ygritte agreed, sending the whole table into fits of laughter.

 

Jon had noticed the empty chairs of his sister and her husband. “Where’s Alys?”

 

“Other end of the hall.” Jon followed Val’s pointing arm and saw his sister dancing between a green-skinned Child of the Forest and a Child of the Sea.

 

“Sigorn’s gone to relive himself.” Robb said. “And our sister’s gone hunting…”

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Val asked them. “She’s a true Stark after all.” This time it was just Val, Ygritte and Rhaenys laughing.

 

“I miss Myrcella…” Robb said, taking a bite out of Rhaenys’ boar leg as she tried to elbow him away, telling him to get his own food. Jon had introduced Myrcella to the rest of them the night after he had fucked her. He took Myrcella to Robb’s room, where he found him in bed with Rhaenys, Ygritte and Val. Jon had woken them all up and they’d descended on Myrcella like ravenous beasts. The five of them had passed Myrcella around like a cheap whore and she’d loved every second of it.

 

“Me too.” Val agreed. “That girl was born to lick cunts.”

 

“Yes.” Ygritte added, “She had a lot of skill for a beginner.”

 

“Still nothing compared to you though.” Rhaenys winked at Ygritte, who laughed and blew a kiss in return.

 

“She needed to return with her family.” Jon told them.

 

“Easy for you to say.” Val laughed. “You got to fuck her more than the rest of us did.”

 

“Still… I imagine we’ll see her in the future. And we’ll all get to fuck her again.” Jon hoped.

 

“I miss Tyene.” Rhaenys said. Her cousin had left, shortly after the king’s party had set off for King’s Landing. She had promised to bring all of her sisters on her next visit to Winterfell. The prospect of meeting more of her Martell family had greatly excited Rhaenys.

 

“If I might disturb you for a moment.” Monfryd Gunn interjected, they all turned to see the grey skinned dwarf holding two large wooden boxes. “I come bearing gifts for the princes.”

 

“We graciously accept your gifts, Guild Master.” Robb said in his “prince voice”.

 

There had been many gifts given and accepted throughout the night, from all the lords and ladies of the North. Though none of them would be able to compare to the gifts his father had given him, Jon thought. A flaming Valyrian steel blade and a Gradungr cub he had ironically named Toothless. Eventually, the antlered, lion-like beast would grow as big as a direwolf. Jon looked forward to seeing Ghost and Toothless at his side together.

 

Monfryd paused for a moment. “It is probably best that you see them in private, my princes.”

 

“Alright, we’ll go to my solar.” Jon said, both he and Robb rising from their seats, intrigued about what Monfryd had brought for them. It was a short walk to his solar, when they got there, Monfryd placed the two wooden boxes on a table.

 

“I know you are aware of what my colleagues and I have been making for your father over the last few years.” The dwarf began. It was true, they were some of the few people their father trusted with the knowledge of the blackpowder weapons the North was making. “However, what I have in these boxes, even your father doesn’t know of.”

 

“You’re keeping things from my father?” Robb asked the dwarf.

 

“They were meant to be a surprise.” Monfryd explained, “But I could not finish them before he left for King’s Landing.”

 

“I think you’ve kept us in suspense long enough, Monfryd.” Jon stated, curious about what Monfryd’s gift was.

 

“Then allow me to present to you: the mini-thunderers.” Monfryd said as he opened the two boxes.

 

Both Robb and Jon eagerly looked inside, where they saw two curved pieces of wood and metal in both boxes. Monfryd was right, they looked like miniature versions of Thunderers, except they had handles instead of a stock to brace against the shoulder. Both were made from pure white wood, with grey metal accents, runes were engraved into the metal barrels and on the wood itself.

 

“Where’s the wick.” Jon asked. Thunderers needed a wick to provide the spark to light the black powder, these mini-thunderers did not have them.

 

“Ah, that’s the genius of these beauties.” Monfryd said, taking one of them out of the boxes. “Thanks to some experimentation, we have discovered a way to trigger a small fire in the barrel using runes! We combined the mechanical and the runic! There’ll be no need for a wick anymore. All that will need to be done is to put some black powder down the barrel, then the lead ball in afterward and it’s ready to be used.” The dwarf proudly proclaimed.

 

“Well that’s certainly good news.” Robb smiled, as he took two of the mini-thunderers out of their box, holding them in his hands. “We both get two?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Monfryd answered, handing the one he held in his hands over to Jon, so he could inspect it. The mini-thunderer felt heavy in his hands.

 

“It would still take a while to load them.” Jon surmised as he looked over the weapon in his hands.

 

“True.” Monfryd agreed, “Two mini-thunderers gives you two shots, then you’ll have to reload. Certainly not the most easy thing to do in the middle of a fight.”

 

“The barrels are much shorter.” Robb noted.

 

“Yes. So they’re most accurate at close range.” Monfryd explained.

 

Both brothers thanked Monfryd for his gifts and congratulated him on finding a way to improve upon his original designs. They left their gifts sealed in the wooden boxes in Jon’s solar and went back to the feast together.

 

Once they returned, there was more feasting and merriment to be had. Jon and Robb danced with a number of different women, including their mothers and wives again. Speeches of congratulation were held, with wine, mead and song flowing in equal measure.

 

As the hour grew later, the bards began to play “The Queen took off her sandals, and the King took off his crown.” And calls for the bedding ceremony could be heard throughout the hall.

 

Soon enough, the men and women of the feast descended on them, the women to Jon, Robb and Sigorn and the men to Rhaenys, Ygritte, Val and Alysanne. Not for the first time in his life, Jon was surrounded by women trying to take his clothes off.

 

The women ohhh’d and ahhh’d when his cock was finally freed from his breeches. Wynafryd Manderly was the first to wrap her hand around his cock and give it a few playful pumps as they nearly carried him to his chambers. Lady Dustin even bent down and gave his cock a few licks. Thankfully, she was hidden by the crowd of women around him, who all cackled at the lewd display.

 

Eventually, Jon, Ygritte and Val were deposited into their bedchambers. For a few moments, they all stood in their nakedness, looking at each other. Then all three burst into laughter as Ygritte went to the wine cabinet, to pour them three goblets.

 

Robb and Rhaenys came through the door that connected Robb and Jon’s room. Both of them just as naked as Jon and his wives, they did bring their own wine.

 

“I see you’ve not started without us.” Robb smiled as they walked into the room. It had been their plan for the wedding night, they would fuck their wives all together, as they had hundreds of times before.

 

Rhaenys walked over to Val, taking to the blonde woman in her arms and kissing her deeply, then she turned to Ygritte and did the same. Jon threw a fireball into the hearth, setting it ablaze, filling the room with it’s warm glow.

 

All three of the women turned to the Stark twins. Both of them eyed the three women’s naked bodies like wolves looking at a lamb.

 

Rhaenys stood between the Ryder twins, her arms around both their waists. Her darker skin contrasting beautifully with the two fair skinned women. All three were arching their backs slightly, emphasising their massive breasts as they gave the Stark boys sultry smiles.

 

All three were beautiful in their own ways. Val was regal, like a proud lioness standing tall, her golden mane of honey-blonde hair falling past her arse. With high cheekbones and icy blue eyes, Val was the definition of a northern beauty.

 

Rhaenys was fully Dornish and exotic, her dark, smokey eyes promising endless pleasure. Jet black hair fell in ringlets down her body, framing her beautiful face.

 

Ygritte was wild and fierce. Free as the wind and fiery as her hair, a wild mess of thick bright red curls. She was noticeably shorter than Val and Rhaenys, her teeth were a little crooked and her nose was broken. All these things gave her an enticing, savage beauty in Jon’s eyes. Being of the Ice Guard, she was the most toned of all three women, her body tight with muscle.

 

“So…” Robb smiled. “Who’s first?”

 

“I think we’re going to take turns sucking your big hard cocks. Do you agree?” Rhaenys asked Val and Ygritte. Both of them nodded in agreement.

 

“We should be sitting for this.” Jon chuckled as he picked up two heavy wooden chairs and gave one to Robb before they both sat down. Both the Starks sat side by side, their cocks rigidly pointing upwards, throbbing at the sight of the beautiful women in front of them.

 

Val walked straight towards Jon and kelt between his legs, Jon saw Rhaenys doing the same for Robb. Ygritte followed the other women, standing between them, watching as they took the cocks in hand.

 

“Now… each of us are going to get a turn sucking you both.” Ygrittte purred, Jon felt her hand in his hair, he looked and saw she was doing the same for Robb. “Be sure not to spend yourselves too early, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

 

With that, Val and Rhaenys began to suck the cocks in front of them. Jon knew Val’s tactic before she even started. She gripped him firmly at his base, then slapped his cock against her pursed lips before extending her tongue, taking long licks along his member.

 

Jon smiled as his head fell back onto the chair, basking in the feeling of Val, languidly sucking his cock as Ygritte ran her hand’s through his hair. Before long, Val was bobbing her head up and down on his lap, her large blue eyes staring directly into his has she drew his cock deep into her throat. She didn’t gag while taking him into her mouth anymore, not after years of practice with both him and Robb.

 

Jon’s blonde wife sealed her lips around the head of his cock and began to suck as hard as she could, her tongue circling and caressing his cock-head all the way. Feeling Val’s golden tresses intwined in his fingers, he pressed her head further down onto his cock, as he thrust up his hips. That drew a muffled chocking sound from Val, but she quickly recovered, beginning to suck even harder.

 

“I guess we still know who’s better at sucking cock then.” Ygritte laughed next to him.

 

Val shot her sister an annoyed look and tried to pinch her, Ygritte nimbly danced out of the way. She stood just out of Val’s reach and began to shake her arse, goading Val into leaving Jon’s cock. Robb reached out a hand and gave Ygritte a firm spank, making her yowl as he and Jon laughed.

 

Glancing over at Robb and Rhaenys, Jon saw that she was frantically rubbing Robb’s cock with both hands, as she sucked on his balls. Rhaenys always loved to play with their balls. She said they housed her future children, so she would nurture them as much as she could.

 

“It’s time now.” Ygritte said, rubbing her reddened behind. She knelt down at Robb’s cock, Rhaenys came over and took Val’s place between Jon’s knees. Val stood up, a trail of Jon’s pre-seed falling from her mouth.

 

Jon saw Ygritte practically inhale Robb’s cock in one go, her nose was buried into Robb’s crotch as he moaned loudly.

 

“She really is good at that.” Rhaenys’ words drew Jon’s attention back to her. She was slowly jerking his cock with one hand that didn’t even fit the whole way around his cock, licking his cock head daintily.

 

Rhaenys’ eyes were two pools of deep brown, sultry and seductive as she fellated him. She pursed her lips and gave Jon’s cock head a big wet kiss, then another and another.

 

“You’re killing me, Rhae.” Jon moaned as she continued her agonisingly slow pace.

 

“Now now, my dear…” She tutted, licking her lips. “All good things come to those who wait...”

 

As Rhaenys continued her ministrations, Jon looked over to Robb again. He saw Val holding Ygritte’s head all the way down on Robb’s cock.

 

“Fucking use this ginger slut’s throat.” She growled to Robb.

 

Val was trying to make her choke, but Ygritte was taking it in her stride, much to Val’s annoyance. Eventually, the teasing became too much for Jon, who grabbed Rhaenys’ dark curls in his fists.

 

“I’ve waited long enough.” He growled, before slamming her face down onto his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet her.

 

Jon skull fucked his twin’s wife mercilessly, her tongue and throat massaging his member, drawing it deeper into her. Drool began to spill from her mouth and down onto her massive tits, that bounced happily in time with her movements.

 

Once he released Rhaenys from his cock, she gasped for breath, with a smile on her lips and lust in her watery eyes, she dove right back onto his shaft, taking it deep again.

 

“It’s time.” Val declared.

 

Ygritte vacated her place on Robb’s cock, making way for Val, but it seemed Rhaenys wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. Ygritte shuffled over to the both of them on her knees, as Val got to loudly sucking Robb’s cock behind her.

 

“That’s my cock you’re sucking!” Ygritte pinched Rhaenys’ nipple and twisted, causing the dornish princess to yelp and move to the side a bit.

 

Ygritte settled next to her and they both sucked Jon’s cock together. Rhaenys’ mouth going up and down one side, Ygritte’s going up and down the other. They weren’t in sync with each other, not like Val and Ygritte would have been.

 

Occasionally their mouths met around his cock head, where both their tongues vied for dominance around it, swapping it in between their mouths. Jon was in a world of pleasure as the two beautiful women eagerly sucked his cock together. He held their heads in place on either side of his cock as he fuck their lips.

 

“Fuck off. It’s my turn with him now.” Ygritte told Rhaenys after a time. She pouted, before giving Jon’s cock one last lick and getting to her feet. “All mine now.” Ygritte gave a toothy grin before she deepthroated his cock again.

 

Ygritte was far and away, they best cock-sucker in the North. The skill and power she wielded with her mouth was second to none. Her head was a blur as she sucked up and down his shaft, her small hands gripping it tightly. Jon let out a low moan as Ygritte put all the right pressures on all the right places. Jon’s cock was an instrument and Ygritte was a master musician, who played Jon’s tool with the highest ability. Looking over at Val and Robb, then Ygritte, Jon couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Rhaenys joined him in laughter. “Twins sucking off twins...” She giggled. It wasn’t the first time Ygritte and Val had fucked Jon and Robb at the same time, the novelty hadn’t worn off yet. Jon doubted it ever would.

 

“Fuck.” Jon gritted his teeth as Ygritte sucked him deeply, he was getting close. From Robb’s moans, Jon guessed he was too.

 

“I think they’re both about ready to pop.” Rhaenys giggled happily, kneeling down on the floor. “Come on girls, let’s make sure they both can cover all three of us.”

 

Val and Ygritte both shuffled over to either side of Rhaenys as Robb and Jon stood up, their cocks aching, yearning to be released.

 

“Are you going to paint us?” Ygritte asked innocently, smiling up at them. Both the Stark twins began to jerk their cocks, directing them at their wives.

 

“Look at these tits.” Val cupped up one of Rhaenys’ tits, offering it to them. “Don’t you want to cover them with your seed?”

 

“My big strong Stark boys.” Rhaenys moaned for them. “I love your massive cocks… Paint me with your seed!”

 

All three of them opened their mouths wide expectantly, sticking their tongues out, awaiting their gifts. Soon enough, with a mighty groan, both the Stark men sprayed their seed over the faces and breasts of their wives. Both Jon and Robb aimed to get most of their seed in Rhaenys, Val’s and Ygritte’s mouths, they eagerly swallowed what was given to them.

 

When the Stark twins were done, their wives wives were completely covered in their seed. Each of them swallowed a healthy helping of seed and there was still enough to cover their faces and breasts. They began to kiss and lick each other, cleaning off the mess their lovers had made of them.

 

All five of them panted together, Robb and Jon looking down on their wives. The next moment, the women were on their feet. They all knew what to do, they’d done it together many times before. As one, the group moved to the very large bed that stood against the wall.

 

Robb mounted Rhaenys at the head of the bed, she was on her back as Robb ploughed her. Ygritte and Val got to their hands and knees on the other end of the bed, their faces just above Rhaenys’. The three women began to kiss each other, alternating between each of them. Marvelling at the two peachy arses in front of him, Jon wondered which he should fuck first.

 

Settling on Val’s bountiful behind, Jon eased his cock into her silky sheath. Val pulled away from kissing Ygritte to moan loudly, her head dropping low as Jon rocked against her.

 

“Fuck her Jon!” Ygritte moaned as he put two fingers in her cunt and one in her arse, she always loved having both holes used at the same time.

 

“Yes! Fuck them Jon.” Rhaenys added. “I want to see their faces when you make them finish!”

 

The Stark brothers rutted their women on the bed. Ygritte, Val and Rhaenys kissing, moaning and fondling each other. Rhaenys seemed to particularly enjoy when Val and Ygritte shoved their tits in her face, her own massive, tanned tits bouncing in time with Robb’s thrusts.

 

“Gods Robb! I can feel you in my stomach!” Rhaenys squealed as her quivering thighs indicated her coming to a strong climax.

 

“Fuck me! You fucking massive cocked god!” Val moaned, slamming her wide hips against his pelvis, the wet slaps of flesh echoing through the room.

 

“Come here Ygritte, I want to taste you.” Rhaenys told their red haired lover, who eased herself off Jon’s fingers with a moan, then sat on Rhaenys’ face.

 

“Can she even breath under that thing?” Robb chuckled, smacking Ygritte’s fleshy arse.

 

“It-ah! Doesn’t feel like she-ah! cares that much…” Ygritte moaned in response. “Get up here Val, we weren’t done.” Jon pulled Val’s hair so her torso was upright against Ygritte. Val didn’t have the strength to hold herself up any other way.

 

One sister held up the other as their tongues danced, their huge breasts mashing together. Ygritte’s mouth silenced Val’s moans, mostly, but Jon could tell from her quivering, that she was coming to her end.

 

Within a few dozen more thrusts, Val was coming undone around him, gasping her pleasure into Ygritte’s face. Ygritte had clasped a hand tightly around Val’s throat, depriving her of air and whispering utter filth into her ear as Jon ravaged her through every inch of her climax.

 

Val fell limply to the bed with a soft thud when Ygritte released her. Jon locked eyes with her for a few moments. He was still hard as a rock, his cock throbbing as it pointed straight at her. Ygritte gave him a toothy grind as she dismounted from Rhaenys’ face, the dornishwoman’s eyes rolling back as Robb thrust deep inside her.

 

“So… Jon Star-ah-k!” Before Ygritte could say some witty remark, Jon picked her up and threw her onto her back. Nothing could stop her giggles as Jon nestled between her thighs and speared deep into her cunt with the whole length of his cock.

 

Next to them, Robb had left Rhaenys in a haze on the bed. He’d moved around and mounted Val from behind, taking her up the arse as he pulled her honey-blonde hair.

 

“You will be silent.” Jon growled at her, clamping a hand over her mouth. “You’re going to lie there and take my cock. Do you understand, Fuckmeat?” Ygritte’s eyes fluttered as her cunt quivered around him. Jon could tell she nearly peaked right there. He’d used the special name she begged him to use on her. Ygritte was incredibly submissive in bed, she wanted to be used, treated like a cheap whore. “Do you understand?” He demanded again.

 

She nodded quickly in response.

 

Jon didn’t wait a second before he began to pound Ygritte’s cunt like there was no tomorrow. The wooden frame of the bed yawned and moved under the force of the thrusting going on on top of it. The Stark twins were ploughing the Ryder twins, as was their right. There were some Children of the Forest who believed that it was a privilege to carry a Stark babe, to be a lover of a Stark was a high honour to them. The loud clapping of Jon’s balls on Ygritte’s ample arsecheeks filled his senses.

 

Only he and Ygritte remained.

 

Her cunt became the world around him. The vice-like pressure of her cunt squeezing his cock was maddening. The walls of her cunt massaged him as he dove deeper and deeper into her.

 

Ygritte’s large breasts bounced in time with Jon’s thrusts, her small pink nipples hardened to diamonds. One of Ygritte’s nipples was pierced, a small piece of metal with a jewel, glinting in the fire light of their room.

 

Jon took the pierced nipple into his mouth, sucking it greedily. These were the breasts that would feed his children one day. While they weren’t quite as massive as Rhaenys or Val’s monumental tits, that Jon was getting an excellent view of as Robb pulled her body up. Ygritte’s were still large and perky. Jon thought back to the time Ygritte had first shown him her breasts.

 

He had been sparring with Daryn Hornwood in the training yard at the time. Ygritte had stood in Jon’s line of sight and called his name, opening her shirt and revealing her naked breasts. Jon had been enthralled by the sight, as had others who were in the training yard too.

 

He’d been so enraptured by the sight so much that he hadn’t seen Daryn’s strike coming.

 

The blow turned his helmet into a bell. Jon had lost the match, but it had been the start of his and Ygritte’s relationship, so it was a sacrifice he was happy to have made.

 

Afterward, he had found out that Val and Ygritte had made a wager on who would win his and Daryn’s sparring match. Val had been very cross with her sister for cheating. A stifled moan from Ygritte drew him from his memories.

 

“I told you to be silent.” Jon growled at her. “Why did you not follow my order?” He gave a particularly hard thrust, making Ygritte grunt, worsening her offence. “It isn’t that hard to follow orders, is it Robb?”

 

“No, of course not.” Robb answered, thrusting into Val as she squealed. “Val’s great at following orders.”

 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Ygritte pleaded.

 

“And now you speak? I have punish you now…” Jon pulled out of her as she whined at the loss. Walking over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, Jon retrieved a plywood paddle and walked back to the bed.

 

“Arse up.” Was all he said to Ygritte, she knew his tone demanded she obey his commands.

 

Quickly, she got onto her knees on the bed and bent over, sticking her fleshy arse into the air. Robb had gone back to the head of the bed, he was going to watch as both Val and Rhaenys sucked his cock together. Jon ran his hand over the globes of Ygritte’s behind, appreciatively squeezing the flesh. Ygritte had the best arse out of all three of their wives and she loved to have it punished.

 

“Now…” Jon said, raising the paddle into the air. “You are going to count for me and thank me after every one. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes daddy.” She answered, quivering. He brought the paddle down on one arsecheek. “One! Thank you daddy…” Ygritte whimpered. He brought it down again, this time on the other, making her arse wobble with every impact. “Two! Thank you daddy…”

 

Smack!

 

“Three! …Thank you daddy…”

 

Smack!

 

“Four! Thank-you-daddy!”

 

Smack!

 

“Ah! Fu-Five! Thank you! Daddy!”

 

“Half-way there now. You’re being a very good girl…” He patted her hair, then pressed her head down onto the bed.

 

Smack! Smack! Smack! He hit her arse three times in quick succession.

 

“Ahhh! Si-fuck-Eight! Thank you daddy!”

 

“Ohhh Ygritte…” Jon tutted, brushing the paddle over her reddened arse, making her moan. “You didn’t count properly… So i’m going to have to start again!”

 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

By the time he was done, Ygritte’s arse was as red as her hair, she was quivering from climaxing several times during her punishment. The bedding was soaked beneath her.

 

Jon took his cock in hand and shoved it deep into her arse without warning. Ygritte jerked up at the sudden and unexpected insertion. Setting a relentless pace, he pounded Ygritte’s arse as she whimpered beneath him.

 

“Who’s Fuckmeat are you?” Jon demanded, pulling Ygritte’s hair, fucking her like the bitch she was.

 

“Yooouuuurrrrrssss!” Ygritte whined as she climaxed around him again. Feeling Ygritte find her end forced Jon to his own, with a loud roar, he filled Ygritte’s arsehole with a seemingly  unending blast of his seed. Hearing Robb moan, he knew Val and Rhaenys had sucked the seed from his cock.

 

After a brief rest to recuperate, they were back at it again. Jon, Rhaenys and Val were on the bed. Rhaenys was riding Jon’s cock as Val rode his mouth, the two of them kissing each other deeply. Robb had taken Ygritte out onto the balcony to fuck her as she leaned over the the barrier.

 

Rhaenys rode Jon’s cock with experience and grace. Her hips fluidly moved back and forth, then around in circles, then up and down.

 

She’d been riding a dragon for years, a cock wasn’t difficult.

 

Jon’s tongue dove into the depths of Val’s cunt, she tasted like honey. Both women moaned wantonly as they rode him, moving their hips in a stilted rhythm.

 

“After I give Robb a son,” Rhaenys moaned “you’re giving me one too.”

 

Jon chuckled into Val’s cunt as he pleasured her. Rhaenys loved to rave about how she’d get both Stark twins to give her babes when they shared her.

 

“Mayhaps Robb is giving your babe a sibling right now.” Val said, biting her lip in pleasure. They heard a cry from Ygritte as Robb spanked her arse.

 

“That babe would have very red hair.” Rhaenys laughed as she lifted her hips up and down Jon’s cock. Thinking she was taking too long, he started thrusting up to meet Rhaenys. “Oh fuck!” She moaned, trying to balance herself as Jon fucked her from below.

 

Val was beginning to pant and quiver as Jon flattened out his tongue and licked the whole length of her cunt lips. She leaned forward and took one of Rhaenys’ dark nipples into her mouth, sucking gently on the breast, her hand groping the other.

 

It seemed the sensations of Jon fucking her cunt and Val playing with her breasts became too much for her. With a loud cry, Rhaenys climaxed on Jon’s cock, as she had hundreds of times before.

 

The feeling of her cunt squeezing him and coating his cock with her release made Jon find his own peak. He filled Rhaenys’ cunt with his seed as she moaned happily, smiling like a cheshire cat.

 

A few moments later, Val was on her back with Rhaenys riding her face and Jon ploughing her cunt. Val was skilfully eating Jon’s seed as it flowed from Rhaenys’ cunt. Rhaenys was resting her hands on Val’s massive bosom, pinching her big pink nipples.

 

With his hands hooked under Val’s knees, holding her legs up, Jon set an even pace thrusting in and out of the warm embrace of Val’s tight cunt. Val’s fingers were curled into the furs of their bed in pleasure.

 

Relentless, Jon speared deep into Val’s core, withdrew, then thrust deep inside her again. Pressing the backs of her knees onto the bedding beside her angled her cunt just right for him to thrust down into her, going as deep as possible, filling her entire being.

 

With a muffled moan into Rhaenys’ cunt, Val utterly surrendered to Jon, just like she had done a thousand times before. His tree-trunk of a cock battering down the walls of her womb, sinking deeper into the wet warmth of her cunt.  Plundering her depths, Jon plunged even deeper into Val’s body, claiming her completely.

 

The familiar, warm sensations of feeling Val’s tight cunt welcoming his cock again and again had Jon thanking every god he could think of. Val could do naught to stop him, not that she ever would. All she was able to do was moan into Rhaenys’ cunt as Jon used her curvy body.

 

His eyes drifted along her body, very familiar to him after years of intimately getting to know it. Her wide hips and thin waist gave her an exquisite behind, that was unfortunately hidden from Jon at the time. Going further up, she had a flat, toned stomach after regularly training in the yard.

 

Further still took Jon to what was widely considered to be Val’s best feature, her breasts. Rhaenys was still playing with them as Val pleasured her, no doubt to reciprocate the pleasure for one of her oldest friends.

 

“Doesn’t she have such amazing tits?” Rhaenys teased Jon, she’d clearly noticed him staring at Val’s breasts.

 

“Both of you do.” Jon drew Rhaenys in for a kiss, their tongues went back and forth for a few moments before Rhaenys yelped. Val had reached up to pinch one of Rhaenys’ nipples.

 

“Ohh, is that your game?” Rhaenys taunted. “I think I may have the advantage here.” She said as she sat down hard on Val’s face, beginning to gyrate her hips.

 

She’s trying to suffocate Val with her arse… I suppose there’re worse ways to go…

 

Soon Rhaenys was beginning to moan more heavily as Val added her fingers to her ministrations, stuffing two up Rhaenys’ tight arse. Jon picked up his pace, thrusting harder and suddenly both Rhaenys and Val were reaching their peak together.

 

As Jon was nearing his end already, Val’s quivering cunt pushed him over the edge. If Val wasn’t already pregnant, Jon was certain that she was now, with the amount of his seed he deposited inside her warm cunt.

 

The night carried on much longer for the five lovers. Jon and Robb spent themselves in all of the holes the three women offered them, multiple times. Ygritte, Val and Rhaenys all took both Robb and Jon in their arses and cunts at the same time, at one point or another throughout the night. Ygritte was always the one who enjoyed getting taken by both twins at once the most. After many hours more of fucking, they all finally fell asleep in a messy pile on the bed, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

 

Until a loud banging on the door roused them from their slumber.

 

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Catelyn

 

 

After their children had been carried from the hall, there were few guests left at the feast. Catelyn was moving a small potato around her plate with a fork when her wife nudged her.

 

“To think, not too long ago, they were babes at our breast.” She was right, of course.

 

Where did all that time go? Cat asked herself. It seemed one minute, her little twins were learning to walk, now they were married men. Robb with his own babe on the way.

 

“They grow up so fast.” Cat said, wistfully, looking over the remaining guests as some filtered out of the hall. “Too fast…”

 

Ash then took her hand. “What’s on your mind, my love?”

 

“This is how it begins...” she said, melancholily. Her hand drifted to her stomach, thinking of the babe she’d only found out about earlier that day. That had been part of the reason she’d been weeping tears of joy all through the wedding ceremony, Ash with a comforting arm around her. “Soon enough, the rest of our pups will grow and leave.”

 

“Don’t be like that, Cat.” Ashara said with a kind smile, her dazzling indigo eyes looking straight at her. “We still had plenty of time with them… and besides, I reckon we’ll be having a few more pups soon.” They both laughed softly together. Cat knew that Ash was pregnant as well. We could give birth to twins again, like Arya and Alyrianne. “From what Marei says, our auspicious king may have given her a parting gift as well.” Ash gossiped.

 

“That woman must want child from every man in Winterfell.” They both laughed some more, then Ash leaned in closer. “…What do you make of Elia’s exit earlier?”

 

Cat hadn’t really thought about it, Elia had been having bouts of ill health early in the day for a week. During the feast, she’d had one such bout when the fish had arrived…

 

Wait…

 

“You can’t mean…?” Cat asked, eyebrows raised high in surprise.

 

“I think she might be.” Ash nodded.

 

“We should talk to her.” Cat said. If Elia was really pregnant, they would have to talk about it. Becoming a mother again after so many years would surely be difficult for Elia. That was an cruel thought. Cat realised. Elia had been a mother to the children of Cat’s womb, and just as much for Ash. The actual pregnancy and birth would be the real issue. She’d heard stories from Ash and Elia of her very difficult births. Mostly they had told her as she was giving birth, or just after Catelyn had given birth herself. She stood up from her chair, a little too quickly. “Oh.” She groaned, a full evening of standing, dancing and feasting had taken it’s toll on her. She was sore all over.

 

“I have an idea…” Ash smiled mischievously. “I go get Elia and we meet you in the nice, soothing waters of the godswood hot springs.”

 

“You make me sound like an old woman, needing to bathe in hot water for my aching joints.”

 

“Well… You’re an old soul. You and Ned. That’s why I love you both.” She leaned in and placed a kiss on Cat’s lips.

 

“Go get our Elia.” Cat smiled to her wife after they pulled apart.

 

“We’ll see you later, Tits…” Ash winked, Cat tried to swipe and Ash’s arse for using that nickname. She missed, making Ash giggle as she sauntered away from her. Ash had often called her “Tits” in private. Unsurprisingly, because of her massive tits, that everyone seemed to love.

 

Cat made her way to the godswood, the air was dead and quiet as she got to the pool in front of the Weirwood. In the distance, she could hear the howling of the direwolves, Redmane was with them.

 

The air was cold on her naked flesh when she divested herself of her dress. She welcomed the warm embrace of the water when she dived in. Many nights she’d spent swimming in the godswood, under the stars. Those nights mostly ended with Ned fucking her and the rest of their lovers against the Weirwood.

 

At least four of our children were made here.

 

She smiled to herself as she swam in the pool. Her childhood had been spent swimming in the cold rivers next to Riverrun. By comparison, swimming in the hot springs of Winterfell was luxury.

 

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a twig snapping. Cat quickly stood up in the pool, the cool air making her shiver as she peered into the dark wood around her. Then there was nothing.

 

Must have been an animal.

 

They were safe in Winterfell, safer than Ned was, going south with the Lannisters. She wished for Ned to be home. She wished for her daughters to be home. Their family belonged in Winterfell.

 

Together.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

“There you is…” Catelyn whirled around to see a small dirty man in filthy brown clothing looking down at her as she bathed. She did not recognise him, he was gaunt, with limp blonde hair and pale eyes deep-sunk into a bony face. He had a dagger in his hand.

 

“Who are you?” Her voice was tight and her shoulders tensed. She silently thanked the gods that she chose to become a skinchanger in the tradition of house Stark. If he was an assassin, she would be able to to change into a wolf and rip his throat out. Cat had never actually killed anyone before, she hoped she didn’t have to. “Who are you!?” She repeated with gritted teeth.

 

“Needed t’wait ‘til yer were alone…” He ignored her question, taking a few steps closer to her. “Had t’wait a while…” Cat could see his beady eyes roaming her form. Repulsed, she covered her modesty as best she could.

 

“Leave this instant! Or i’ll call the guar-urgh!” She wretched and coughed after the man threw some kind on powder right into her face. Cat’s eyes and throat burned as she fell into the water.

 

“She said would wouldn’t be able t’change if I used the dimer-itini-munum.” He clearly mispronounced dimerituim. It was a magic suppressing material that rendered her skin changing useless. “She wanted me t’give you’s a message first…”

 

“Fuck off!” Cat stumbled out of the pool, making a break away. Towards the castle, towards the wolves, anywhere but near him. She sucked in a hoarse breath, nearly choking as the dimeritium dust burned her throat. She screamed “Guards! Guards!” at the top of her lungs.

 

Barely out of the water, he tackled her to the ground, she was kicking and flailing, but half-blind and gasping for breath, she could not escape.

 

He was on top of her, pushing her face into the snowy ground. Cat twisted her head to the side, managing to get a piece of his flesh between her teeth. She bit down hard into his palm.

 

“Argh! Bitch!” The man grunted in pain. The taste of blood filled Cat’s mouth as she kept tearing at his hand, eventually he let go.

 

“Redmane!” She screamed again, hoping her wolf would save her.

 

“Come here! Whore!” He growled, grabbing her hair and pressing her face into the ground again. She felt him wriggle around on top of her, trying to remove his breeches with one hand. She thrashed and screamed, kicking out again.

 

“I’m t’enjoy you’s, then kill you’s, then yer bitch wives too…” He laughed. “She wanted me t’say: Who’s ugly now you peasant-fucking Arrrrrggg!!!” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as over a dozen massive snarling blurs leaped at him, dragging his screaming form away, tearing him limb from limb. Catelyn was showered in a rain blood as dozens more howling direwolves flooded the clearing.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

“Good girl.” Catelyn whispered as Redmane, padded up to her, covered in the attacker’s blood. Her wolf began to lick her bloody hands clean. It tickled. Whether from shock or relief, Catelyn began to laugh hysterically as she was surrounded by the wolf pack.

 

That was how Ash and Elia found her. They wrapped a blanket around her and lead her back to the Great Keep, to their chambers. Old Nan helped her with a hot bath, washing her clean as Redmane and Starlight stood guard at the door. Ash and Elia had sent for Druid Luwin and Sabrina to check her wounds and make sure she didn’t get dimerituim poisoning.

 

They were all together in the prince’s chambers: Ash and Elia sitting next to her on the bed. Benjen and Lyanna were standing with Robb, Jon and Alysanne, who were pacing across the room, fuming with anger, their wolves just as restless. Cat felt sorry for them, being robbed of their wedding nights for such horrible news. Luwin and Sabrina were packing away the medicines they had brought. Rodrik Cassel and Hallis Mollen, the captain of the Ice Guard in Harper’s absence, stood by the door. They all knew what had happened.

 

“Who was he?” Cat asked.

 

“The wolves tore a lot of him away.” Hallis told her. “But none could name him. He was no man of Winterfell, m’lady, but some says they seen him about the castle these past few weeks.”

 

“He didn’t sound like a northerner.” Cat informed them.

 

“So he was one of the king’s men.” Ash ventured.

 

“Or one of the Lannisters’ creatures.” Elia added, looking worriedly at Cat. Lysa’s letter rang through Cat’s mind.

 

“Perhaps,” Hallis agreed. “Winterfell’s been so fell of strangers of late, half a hundred banners came with the king.”

 

Cat went over the  attacker’s words in her mind. “He said…” Cat began, then paused. Ash took her hand. “He said ‘She’ sent him. And that ‘She’ wanted me to hear a message before he… killed me.” Her children didn’t need to hear the whole truth. They were full enough of rage as things were. Cat did not wish to add to it.

 

“What was the message?” Luwin asked.

 

Catelyn shifted on the bed a little. “It was: Who’s ugly now…”

 

“That spiteful bitch!” Ash seethed, rising from the bed in a fury.

 

“Who?” Alysanne asked, confused at her birth-mother’s outburst.

 

“The queen.” Elia answered icily, through gritted teeth.

 

“How do you know?” Jon questioned, standing with his arms crossed, just like Ned did.

 

“She was being rude on their first night here.” Elia explained. “Cat put her in her place.”

 

“When I get my hands on that vicious harpy…” Ash’s fury was broiling.

 

“Ash, we should try to stay calm.” Elia tried to sooth her.

 

“No! I will not stay calm!” Ash thundered. “The queen sent a man to murder my wife!” While it certainly warmed her heart to see her wife so ready to commit to acts of violence to defend her, Cat knew getting angry and raging would solve nothing. They needed to know all the information they had, so they could plan their next move.

 

“Not just me.” Cat added, her voice was smaller than she would have wanted. “He said he was supposed to go after you two next.”

 

“Well if Cersei wants to take our lives, she can come try and fucking take them herself!”

 

“Princesses please…” Sabrina tried to clam the situation. “We don’t know for sure if the queen did it… yet… We should look at all the evidence before he jump to a first conclusion .”

 

“There’s more?” Cat asked.

 

Alysanne nodded. “Yes. I smelled horse on… What was left of him. I ordered the guards to search the stables. They found where he had been sleeping and three-hundred silver stags in a leather bag buried under hay.”

 

“At least our lives were not bought cheaply.” Cat said bitterly.

 

“Princesses,” Ranger Rodrik said, producing the dagger the man had worn. “There is also the dagger. The blade is Valyrian steel, the hilt dragonbone. Far too fine a weapon for a man like that. Someone must have given it to him.”

 

“So what do we have? We have a large sum of money… A Valyrian steel dagger that could only have been given to the attacker by someone with money and means to own it… The one who sent him knew how to combat your skin-changing as well, with dimeritium… And the killer’s own confession that a ‘She’ sent him to kill you.” Benjen laid out their evidence.

 

“The only thing we had that could directly tie the queen to this attack is dead.” Lyanna added. “Leaving your word against hers.”

 

“What I am about to say must not leave this room.” Cat told them. They all nodded and gave their oaths of silence. “Some of you know this already. My sister believes the Lannisters murdered her husband. If the Lannisters are willing to murder a Hand’s wife over something as trivial as this, I believe they would willingly murder a Hand too.”

 

“Did the attacker speak the queen’s name?” Sabrina sat on the bed as she asked.

 

“No.” Cat admitted. “And though I am eternally grateful to the wolves, as Lyanna said, they have killed the only real evidence that could be pinned to her.” There was only one place where the truth would be found, Cat knew this. “Someone must go to King’s Landing... Find the truth there.”

 

“I’ll go.” Robb, Jon and Alysanne all volunteered at the same time. She was so proud of them.

 

“No” She said, firmly. “I am the one who must go. I have friends in King’s Landing. Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin was fostered at Riverrun. He’s been a little brother to me. He will help me.”

 

“I will go with you.” Elia said. “I have a matter I need to discuss with our dear Ned.”

 

Cat nodded in agreement. “Ser Rodrik will accompany us to White Harbour on the morrow, where we will hire a ship to King’s Landing.”

 

And then, we shall see what we shall see.

Notes:

And that’s chapter 11!

My biggest yet at 15.4K words. This chapter was my Everest, my white whale. Now that I have reached the summit, I wanna do it all again. I feel this chapter had more plot that previous ones. (Probably because it had more everything 😆)

It dealt with Ned and Robert knocking heads about a certain Targ woman and what I wanted Ned to do in the main series regarding Lady. There were also weddings, beddings and pregnancies, all fun things. I tried to make it a reasonable decision for Cat to be going south like in the main series. Idk if I really succeeded.

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Until we meet again, next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 17: Chapter 12

Catelyn

 

 

“We’ll make King’s Landing within the hour.”

 

Cat turned away from the rail and forced herself to smile. “Your oarmen have done well by us, Captain. Each one of them shall have a silver stag, as a token of my gratitude. They’ve certainly earned it.”

 

The Captain favoured her with a half bow. “You are far too generous, Lady Stark. The payment you have given is enough.” The price he had demanded had certainly been hefty, Cat supposed that was the price of demanding secrecy, she had payed it in full, thankfully she had money to spare.

 

“I imagine they’ll still happily take the silver.” Cat chuckled.

 

“As you say.” The Captain smiled. He spoke the Common Tongue fluently, in spite of being from Essos. He had been plying the narrow sea for thirty years, he’d told her, as oarman, quartermaster, and finally a captain of his own trading galley. The Storm Dancer was his forth ship, and his fastest, a two-masted galley of sixty oars.

 

She had certainly been the fastest of the ships available in White Harbour when Cat, Elia and Ranger Rodrik had arrived after their headlong gallop downriver. They had left early in the morning, though not before telling their children where they were going.

 

They have Ash, and all of Winterfell around them, Cat told herself. They’re safe.

 

The old Ranger had insisted that he accompanied Elia and herself, she hadn’t felt the need to argue with him, especially after her attack. Redmane had closely followed them almost the whole way to White Harbour, but Cat had to bid an almost teary farewell to her direwolf as they approached the white port city. Her wolf would easily make it back home, there were few creatures in the North that could even fight a direwolf, let alone kill them.

 

Rodrik had argued for hiring a fishing sloop out of the Three Sisters, but Cat and Elia had insisted on the galley. It was good that they had. The winds had been against them much of the voyage, and without the galley’s oars they’d still be beating their way past the Fingers, instead of skimming toward King’s Landing and their journey’s end.

 

So close, she thought.

 

Rodrik and Elia chose that moment to appear on deck. “My good friend,” said the Captain. “It is good to see you looking better.”

 

“Yes,” Rodrik agreed. “I haven’t wanted to die for almost two days now.” He bowed to Cat as Elia walked to her side and clasped her hand. “Princess.”

 

He was looking better. Perhaps a shade thinner than he had been when they set out from White Harbor, but almost himself again. The strong winds in the Bite and the roughness of the Narrow sea had not agreed with him, and he’d almost gone over the side when the storm seized them unexpectedly off Dragonstone, yet somehow he had clung to a rope until three crewmen could rescue him and carry him safely below decks.

 

“The captain was just telling me that our voyage is almost at an end,” she said.

 

“Good.” Elia responded, looking out over the sea as a hand ghosted over the small bump in her belly. They were both starting to show now, Cat imagined Ash was probably beginning to show as well, back in Winterfell. Ned was certain to be surprised when they told him he’d gotten all three of them pregnant.

 

Rodrik managed a wry smile. “So soon?” He’d had his great white whiskers as long as Cat had known him, he looked unfamiliar without them; smaller somehow, less fierce, and ten years older. Yet back on the Bite it had seemed prudent to submit to a crewman’s razor, after his whiskers had become hopelessly befouled for the third time while he leaned over the rail and retched into the swirling winds.

 

“I will leave you to discuss your business,” The captain said. He bowed and took his leave of them.

 

The galley skimmed the water like a pond skipper, her oars rising and falling in perfect time. Rodrik held the rail and looked out over the passing shore. “I have not been the most valiant of protectors.”

 

Elia touched his arm. “We are here, Ranger Rodrik, and safely. That is all that truly matters.”

 

Cat’s hand groped beneath her cloak. The dagger was still at her side. She found she had to touch it now and then, to reassure herself. “Now we must reach the king’s master-at-arms, and pray that he can be trusted.”

 

“Ser Aron Santagar is a vain man, but an honest one.” Rodrik’s hand went to his face to stroke his whiskers and discovered once again that they were gone. He looked nonplussed. “He may know the blade, yes ... but, Princesses, the moment we go ashore we are at risk. And there are those at court who will know you both on sight.”

 

Cat’s mouth grew tight. “Littlefinger,” she murmured. His face swam up before her; a boy’s face, though he was a boy no longer. His father had died several years ago, making Lord Baelish now, yet still they called him Littlefinger.

 

Ranger Rodrik cleared his throat. “Lord Baelish once, ah ...” His thought trailed off uncertainly in search of the polite word.

 

Cat was past delicacy. “He was my father’s ward. We grew up together in Riverrun. I thought of him as a brother, but his feelings for me were... more than brotherly.”

 

“A Targaryen brother perhaps…” Elia snarked, Cat gave her a stern look, then continued.

 

“When it was announced that I was to wed Brandon, Petyr challenged for the right to my hand. It was madness. Brandon was twenty and built like a bear, Petyr scarcely fifteen, more a boy than a man. I asked Brandon to spare Petyr’s life. He let him off with a scar. Afterward my father sent him away. I have not seen him since.” She lifted her face to the spray, as if the brisk wind could blow the memories away. “He wrote to me at Riverrun after Brandon was murdered, but I burned the letter unread. By then I knew that Ned would marry me in his brother’s place.”

 

Rodrik’s fingers fumbled once again for nonexistent whiskers. “Littlefinger sits on the small council now.”

 

“I knew he would rise high,” Cat said. “He was always clever, even as a boy, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise.” While Petyr was certainly witty, wisdom had always seemed to allude him. “I wonder what the years have done to him.”

 

High overhead, the far-eyes sang out from the rigging. The captain came scrambling across the deck, giving orders, and all around them the Storm Dancer burst into frenetic activity as King’s Landing slid into view atop its three high hills.

 

The city covered the shore as far as Cat could see, it was the same size as the Winter city, though more populous; manses and arbors and granaries, brick storehouses and timbered inns and merchant’s stalls, taverns and graveyards and brothels, all piled one on another. Cat felt a great swell of pity to all the people that had to practically live on top of each other. Even from this distance, she could see there was little space in the city to breath. The Winter City was always built with much space to expand, though land was always vast and cheap in the North.

 

She could hear the clamor of the fish market even at this distance. Between the buildings were roads lined with trees, wandering crookback streets, and alleys so narrow that two men could not walk abreast. Visenya’s hill was crowned by the Great Sept of Baelor with its seven crystal towers. Across the city on the hill of Rhaenys stood the blackened walls of the Dragonpit, where the royal dragons resided, its huge dome having been rebuilt after the Dance of Dragons. The Street of the Sisters ran between them, straight as an arrow. The city walls rose in the distance, high and strong.

 

A hundred quays lined the waterfront, and the harbor was crowded with ships. Deepwater fishing boats and river runners came and went, ferrymen poled back and forth across the Blackwater Rush, trading galleys unloaded goods from Braavos and Pentos and Lys. Cat spied the queen’s ornate barge, tied up beside a fat-bellied whaler from the Port of Ibben, its hull black with tar, while upriver a dozen lean golden warships rested in their cribs, sails furled and cruel iron rams lapping at the water.

 

And above it all, frowning down from Aegon’s high hill, was the Red Keep; seven huge drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts, an immense grim barbican, vaulted halls and covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries, massive curtain walls studded with archers’ nests, all fashioned of pale red stone. Aegon the Conqueror had commanded it built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed.

 

All that blood and death, and Winterfell is still the grander castle by far.

 

“It has been many years since I have seen King’s Landing.” Elia said, sombrely. Cat’s heart went out to her lover of two decades, mourning Elia’s murdered son. Tywin Lannister will answer for that, one day…

 

Elia had been there in the days when the red Targaryen dragon on black was seen on every wall, yet now the banners that flew from its battlements were golden, not black, and where the three-headed dragon had once breathed fire, now pranced the crowned stag of House Baratheon.

 

A high-masted swan ship from the Summer Isles was beating out from port, it’s white sails huge with wind. The Storm Dancer moved past it, pulling steadily for shore.

 

“Princesses,” Rodrik said, “I have thought on how best to proceed while I lay abed. You must not enter the castle. I will go in your stead and bring Ser Aron to you in some safe place.”

 

Elia studied the old Ranger as the galley drew near to a pier. The captain was shouting in the vulgar Valyrian of the Free Cities. “You would be as much at risk as we would.”

 

The Ranger smiled. “I think not. I looked at my reflection in the water earlier and scarcely recognized myself. My mother was the last person to see me without whiskers, and she is forty years dead. I believe I am safe enough, my lady.”

 

The captain bellowed a command. As one, sixty oars lifted from the river, then reversed and backed water. The galley slowed. Another shout. The oars slid back inside the hull. As they thumped against the dock, seamen leapt down to tie up. The captain came bustling up, all smiles. “King’s Landing, princesses, as you did command, and never has a ship made a swifter or surer passage. Will you be needing assistance to carry your things to the castle?”

 

“We shall not be going to the castle. Perhaps you can suggest an inn, someplace clean and comfortable and not too far from the river.” Elia told him.

 

The stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Just so. I know of several establishments that might suit your needs. Yet first, if I may be so bold, there is the matter of the second half of the payment we agreed upon. And of course the extra silver you were so kind as to promise. Sixty stags, I believe it was.”

 

“For the oarmen,” Cat reminded him.

 

“Oh, of a certainty,” said the captain. “Though perhaps I should hold it for them until we return home. For the sake of their wives and children. If you give them the silver here, my lady, they will dice it away or spend it all for a night’s pleasure.”

 

“There are worse things to spend money on,” Elia put in. “Winter is coming.”

 

“A man must make his own choices,” Cat said. “They earned the silver. How they spend it is no concern of ours.”

 

“As you say, my lady,” the captain replied, bowing and smiling.

 

Just to be sure, Cat paid the oarmen herself, a stag to each man, and a copper to the two men who carried their chests halfway up Visenya’s hill to the inn that the captain had suggested. It was a rambling old place on Eel Alley. The woman who owned it was a sour crone with a wandering eye who looked them over suspiciously and bit the coin that Cat offered her to make sure it was real. Their rooms were large and airy, though, and the captain swore that her fish stew was the most savory in all the Seven Kingdoms. Best of all, she had no interest in their names.

 

“I think it best if you stay away from the common room,” Rodrik said, after they had settled in. “Even in a place like this, one never knows who may be watching.” He wore ringmail, dagger, and longsword under a dark cloak with a hood he could pull up over his head. “I will be back before nightfall, with Ser Aron,” he promised. “Rest now, princesses.”

 

Cat and Elia were tired. The voyage had been long and fatiguing, and they were no longer as young as they had been. Their windows opened on the alley and rooftops, with a view of the Blackwater beyond.  The distinct aroma of shit clung to the air like a malignant perfume. Cat closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was back in the Winter city, the smell of pine and woodsmoke in the air.

 

Home.

 

Cat watched their Ranger set off, striding briskly through the busy streets until he was lost in the crowds, then decided to take his advice. Cat and Elia settled down together on the bed. The bedding was stuffed with straw instead of feathers, but they had no trouble falling asleep.

 

They woke to a pounding on her door.

 

“Wha-?” Elia mumbled as Cat sat up sharply. Outside the window, the rooftops of King’s Landing were red in the light of the setting sun. They had slept longer than intended. A fist hammered at their door again, and a voice called out, “Open, in the name of the king.”

 

“A moment,” Cat called out. She wrapped herself in her cloak and Elia did the same. The dagger was on the bedside table. She snatched it up before she unlatched the heavy wooden door.

 

The men who pushed into the room wore the black ringmail and golden cloaks of the City Watch. Their leader smiled at the dagger in her hand and said, “No need for that, m’lady. We’re to escort you to the castle.”

 

“By whose authority?” Cat demanded.

 

He showed her a ribbon. Cat felt her breath catch in her throat. The seal was a mockingbird, in grey wax. “Petyr,” she said. So soon. Something must have happened to Rodrik. She looked at the head guardsman. “Do you know who I am?”

 

“No, m’lady,” he said. “M’lord Littlefinger said only to bring you both to him, and see that you were not mistreated.”

 

Cat nodded. “You may wait outside while we dress.”

 

“Seems your Littlefinger lacks common curtesy.” Elia said as she shrugged out of her cloak and went to the chest of their clothes. “How did he know we were here?”

 

“That damned captain.” Cat seethed, pulling on her bodice. “I hope he at least got a good price for selling our secrets.”

 

They had brought horses for the two of them. The lamps were being lit along the streets as they set out, and Cat felt the eyes of the city on them as she and Elia rode side by side, surrounded by the guards in their golden cloaks.

 

Elia tensed beside her when they both laid eyes on the Red Keep, Cat tried to place a comforting hand on Elia’s shoulder. She knew Elia probably wanted to run for the hills, but she was facing the monsters of her past. Cat was proud of her, she remembered when Elia would wake in the night, weeping at the loss of her son as the rest of them tried to comfort her. She still woke in the night, though those nights were few and far between. When Ned had built them a small sept in Winterfell, Cat had taken Elia there to pray for her son together. They had grown close in that time, something Cat was eternally grateful for.

 

When they reached the Red Keep, the portcullis was down and the great gates sealed for the night, but the castle windows were alive with flickering lights. The guardsmen left their mounts outside the walls and escorted them through a narrow postern door, then up endless steps to a tower.

 

Petyr was alone in the room, seated at a heavy wooden table, an oil lamp beside him as he wrote. When they ushered them inside, he set down his pen and looked at her. “Cat,” he said quietly.

 

“Why have we been brought here in this fashion?” She demanded.

 

He rose and gestured brusquely to the guards. “Leave us.” The men departed. “You and your… friend… were not mistreated, I trust,” he said after they had gone. “I gave firm instructions.”

 

“Princess Elia Martell.” Cat scolded him, anger bubbling within her at how they had been treated. “A woman who has been a part of my marriage for nearly twenty years. She is as much my wife as Ashara is and you will treat her with respect.”

 

“My apologies, Princess.” Petyr bowed his head slightly.

 

“We are not accustomed to being summoned like wenches,” Elia said icily.

 

“As a boy, you still knew the meaning of courtesy.” Cat added.

 

“I’ve angered you, princesses. That was never my intent.” He looked contrite. The look brought back vivid memories for Cat. He had been a sly child, but after his mischiefs he always looked contrite; it was a gift he had. The years had not changed him much. Petyr had been a small boy, and he had grown into a small man, a few inches shorter than Cat, maybe a little taller than Elia, slender and quick, with the sharp features she remembered and the same laughing grey-green eyes. He had a little pointed chin beard now, and threads of silver in his dark hair, though he was still shy of thirty. They went well with the silver mockingbird that fastened his cloak. Even as a child, he had always loved his silver.

 

“How did you know we were in the city?” Cat asked him.

 

“Lord Varys knows all,” Petyr said with a sly smile. “He will be joining us shortly, but I wanted to see you alone first. It has been too long, Cat. How many years?”

 

Cat ignored his familiarity. There were more important questions. “So it was the King’s Spider who found us.”

 

Littlefinger winced. “You don’t want to call him that. He’s very sensitive. Comes of being an eunuch, I imagine. Nothing happens in this city without Varys knowing.”

 

“Oh, I remember.” Elia scoffed. “A cat could kill a rat in Gin alley and lord Varys would know within the hour.”

 

“Quite.” Littfinger said, before continuing. “Ofttimes he knows about it before it happens. He has informants everywhere. His little birds, he calls them. One of his little birds heard about your visit. Thankfully, Varys came to me first.”

 

“Why you?” Cat asked him.

 

He shrugged. “Why not me? I am master of coin, the king’s own councillor. Selmy and Lord Renly rode north to meet Robert, and Lord Stannis is gone to Dragonstone, leaving only Maester Pycelle and me. I was the obvious choice. I was ever a friend to your sister Lysa, Varys knows that.”

 

“Does Varys know about ...”

 

“Lord Varys knows everything ... except why you are here.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

 

“Are we not allowed to yearn for our Ned?” Elia said, it was an easy lie. They both did yearn for Ned, but they had other reasons to come South. Cat hoped the truth could be used to form a convincing lie.

 

Littlefinger laughed. “Oh, very good, princess, if it were you only, I might believe it, though I would doubt you’d enjoy returning to the Red Keep, for obvious reasons.”

 

“Petyr…” Cat warned.

 

“You, Cat, I know too well. You would not leave your children, not just to sooth your aching loins.”

 

Cat heard the slap before she realised she’d done it. A loud clap echoing through the room as Littlefinger’s head snapped to the side.

 

“I have offended you, forgive me…” he said, contrite again. There was a soft knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out.

 

The man who stepped through the door was plump, perfumed, powdered, and as hairless as an egg. He wore a vest of woven gold thread over a loose gown of purple silk, and on his feet were pointed slippers of soft velvet. “Princess Stark,” he said, taking her hand in both of his, “to see you again after so many years is such a joy.” His flesh was soft and moist, and his breath smelled of lilacs. “And you too Princess Elia.” He said, stepping away from Cat. “Why, King’s Landing is made brighter by the light of your presence again.

 

“I care, not a whit for this stinking slum masquerading as a city.” Elia fixed Varys with a stern gaze. “May it crumble and fall into the sea.”

 

“Lord Baelish tells me that I have you to thank for bringing us here.” Cat changed the subject, bringing the focus away from Elia. She trusted Littlefinger only a little, and Varys not at all, the less they said in this meeting, the better.

 

Varys giggled like a little girl. “Oh, yes. I suppose I am guilty. I hope you forgive me, kind princess.” He eased himself down into a seat and put his hands together. “I wonder if we might trouble you to show us the dagger?”

 

Cat stared at the eunuch in stunned disbelief. He is a spider, she thought wildly, an enchanter or worse. He knew things no one could possibly know, unless ... “What have you done to Ranger Rodrik?” she demanded.

 

Littlefinger was lost. “I feel rather like the knight who arrives at the battle without his lance. What dagger are we talking about? Who is Ranger Rodrik?”

 

“Ranger Rodrik Cassel is a master-at-arms at Winterfell,” Varys informed him. “I assure you, Princess Stark, nothing at all has been done to the good Ranger. He did call here early this afternoon. He visited with Ser Aron Santagar in the armory, and they talked of a certain dagger. About sunset, they left the castle together and walked to that dreadful hovel where you were staying. They are still there, drinking in the common room, waiting for your return. Rodrik was very distressed to find you gone.”

 

“How could you know all that?”

 

“The whisperings of little birds,” Varys said, smiling. “I know things, sweet lady. That is the nature of my service.” He shrugged. “You do have the dagger with you, yes?”

 

Cat pulled it out from beneath her cloak and threw it down on the table in front of him. “Here. Perhaps your little birds will whisper the name of the man it belongs to.”

 

Varys lifted the knife with exaggerated delicacy and ran a thumb along its edge. Blood welled, and he let out a squeal and dropped the dagger back on the table.

 

“Careful,” Cat told him, “it’s sharp.”

 

“Nothing holds an edge like Valyrian steel,” Littlefinger said as Varys sucked at his bleeding thumb and looked at Cat with sullen admonition. Littlefinger hefted the knife lightly in his hand, testing the grip. He flipped it in the air, caught it again with his other hand. “Such sweet balance. You want to find the owner, is that the reason for this visit? You have no need of Ser Aron for that, my lady. You should have come to me.”

 

“And if we had,” Elia said, “what would you have told us?”

 

“I would have told you that there was only one knife like this in King’s Landing.” He grasped the blade between thumb and forenger, drew it back over his shoulder, and threw it across the room with a practiced flick of his wrist. It struck the door and buried itself deep in the oak, quivering. “It’s mine.”

 

“Yours?” It made no sense. Petyr had not been at Winterfell.

 

“Until the tourney on Prince Joffrey’s name day,” he said, crossing the room to wrench the dagger from the wood. “I backed Ser Jaime in the jousting, along with half the court.” Petyr’s sheepish grin made him look half a boy again. “When Loras Tyrell unhorsed him, many of us became a trifle poorer. Ser Jaime lost a hundred golden dragons, the queen lost an emerald pendant, and I lost my knife. Her Grace got the emerald back, but the winner kept the rest.”

 

“Who?” Cat demanded, her mouth dry with fear.

 

“The Imp,” said Littlefinger as Lord Varys watched her face. “Tyrion Lannister.”

 

 

Ned

 

 

Eddard Stark rode through the towering bronze doors of the Red Keep sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. They had spied King’s Landing early in the morning, Snowsong had raced ahead, wanting to see Stormbreaker after so many years apart no doubt. Ned could hear the dragons singing together in the Dragonpit even as far away as the Red Keep. He was still mounted on his horse, dreaming of a long hot soak and his wives waiting for him in a featherbed, when the king’s steward told him that Grand Maester Pycelle had convened an urgent meeting of the Small council. The honor of the Hand’s presence was requested as soon as it was convenient.

 

He could’ve at least waited until I dismounted.

 

“It’ll be convenient tomorrow,” Ned snapped as he dismounted.

 

The steward bowed very low. “I shall give the councillors your regrets, Prince Stark.”

 

“No…” Ned sighed. Offending the Small council was unlikely to be the best first move he could make as Hand of the King. “I’ll see them. Though, I must have time to change into something more presentable.”

 

“Yes, Prince Stark,” the steward said. “We have given you Lord Arryn’s former chambers in the Tower of the Hand, if it please you. I shall have your things taken there.”

 

“Thank you,” Ned said as he ripped off his riding gloves and tucked them into his belt. The rest of his household was coming through the gate behind him. Ned saw Vayon Poole and called out. “It seems the council has urgent need of me. See that my daughters find their bedchambers, and tell Harper to keep them there. Arya is not to go exploring,” Poole bowed. Ned turned back to the royal steward. “My wagons are still straggling through the city. I shall need appropriate garments.”

 

“It will be my great pleasure,” the steward said.

 

Ned had come striding into the council chambers, bone-tired and dressed in borrowed clothing, to find four members of the small council waiting for him.

 

The chamber was richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes, and in one corner a hundred fabulous beasts cavorted in bright paints on a carved screen from the Summer Isles. From the walls hung tapestries from the free cities, and a pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces.

 

The councillor Ned liked least, the eunuch Varys, accosted him the moment he entered. “Lord Stark, I was grieved to hear about your troubles on the kingsroad. We have all been visiting the sept to light candles for Prince Joffrey. I pray for his recovery.” His hand left powder stains on Ned’s sleeve, and he smelled as foul and sweet as flowers on a grave.

 

“Then your gods have heard you,” Ned replied, cool yet polite. “The prince grows stronger every day.” He disentangled himself from the eunuch’s grip and crossed the room to where Lord Renly stood by the screen, talking quietly with a short man who could only be Littlefinger. Renly had been a boy of eight when Robert won the throne, but he had grown into a man so like his brother that Ned found it disconcerting.

 

“I see you have arrived safely, Prince Stark,” Renly said.

 

“And you as well,” Ned replied.

 

Littlefinger eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. “I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Cat has mentioned me to you.”

 

“Princess Catelyn has,” Ned replied with a chill in his voice. Littlefinger’s sly arrogance causing a flare of cold anger to rise within him. “I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well.”

 

Renly laughed. Varys shuffled over to listen.

 

“Rather too well,” Littlenger said. “I still carry a token of his esteem. Did Brandon speak of me too?”

 

“He didn’t mention you once.” Ned said, hoping that would end it. He had no patience for men like Littlefinger, or their words.

 

“I must say I’m surprised to see you here, Prince Stark.” Littlenger said. “Here in the south, they say you Starks are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck.”

 

“I don’t plan on melting soon, Lord Baelish. You may count on that.” Ned moved to the council table and said, “Maester Pycelle, I trust you are well.”

 

The Grand Maester smiled gently from his tall chair at the foot of the table. “Well enough for a man of my years, my lord,” he replied, “yet I do tire easily, I fear.” Wispy strands of white hair fringed the broad bald dome of his forehead above a wrinkled face. His maester’s collar was no simple metal choker, but two dozen heavy chains wound together into a ponderous metal necklace that covered him from throat to breast. The links were forged of every metal known to man: black iron and red gold, bright copper and dull lead, steel and tin and pale silver, brass and bronze and platinum. Garnets and amethysts and black pearls adorned the metal-work, and here and there an emerald or ruby. “Perhaps we might begin soon,” the Grand Maester said, hands knitting together atop his broad stomach. “I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer.”

 

“As you will.” The king’s seat sat empty at the head of the table, the crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on its pillows. Ned took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his king. “My lords,” he said formally, “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”

 

“You are the King’s Hand,” Varys said. “We serve at your pleasure, Prince Stark.”

 

As the others took their accustomed seats, Ned could not shake the feeling that he did not belong there. He remembered what Robert had told him in the crypts below Winterfell. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. “Where is Stannis?” he asked, knowing that Robert and Barristan were still making their way through the city.

 

“Lord Stannis took himself to Dragonstone not long after the king went north,” Varys said.

 

“Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us,” Ned suggested.

 

Renly laughed aloud. “If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, we’d be here till winter came.”

 

“Our good King Robert has many cares,” Varys said. “He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load.”

 

“We are the lords of small matters here.” Littlefinger quipped.

 

Renly drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. “This morning my brother commanded me to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us.”

 

Littlenger smiled and handed the paper to Ned. It bore the royal seal. Ned broke the wax with his thumb and read Robert’s urgent command, reading the words with mounting disbelief. “Gods be good,” he swore.

 

“What Prince Eddard means to say,” Lord Renly announced, “is that His Grace instructs us to stage a great tournament in honor of his appointment as the Hand of the King.”

 

“How much?” asked Littlenger, mildly.

 

Ned read the answer from the letter. “Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition.”

 

“Ninety thousand gold pieces,” Littlenger sighed. “And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools...”

 

“Fools we have in plenty,” Lord Renly said.

 

Grand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlenger and asked, “Can the treasury bear the expense?”

 

“What treasury is that?” Littlenger replied with a twist of his mouth. “Spare me the foolishness, Maester. You know as well as I that the treasury has been empty for years. I shall have to borrow the money. No doubt the Lannisters will be accommodating. We owe Lord Tywin some three million dragons at present, what’s another hundred thousand?”

 

Ned was stunned. “Are you claiming that the Crown is three million gold pieces in debt?”

 

“The Crown is more than six million gold pieces in debt, Lord Stark. The Lannisters are the biggest part of it, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels. Of late I’ve had to turn to the Faith. The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger.”

 

Curious that he seems to have borrowed from everyone except the Starks. Ned thought. It might not be common knowledge, but surely Littlefinger should have known that the Starks had a treasury overflowing with wealth, from mines in the vast mountain ranges of the North and the Great Canal, that provided many lucrative trading opportunities for the west coast of Westeros. Ned would even go so far as to say that house Stark was probably the second or third richest house in Westeros, behind only the Lannisters and the Tyrells.

 

“Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?” Ned asked.

 

Littlenger gave a shrug. “The master of coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it.”

 

“I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to beggar the realm,” Ned said hotly. He contemplated paying off some of the crown’s debts with his house’s coffers. Better for Robert to owe me rather than lord Tywin or the Iron Bank. It was likely they didn’t have enough to pay off all of the debts completely, but it was something Ned would have to think about later.

 

Grand Maester Pycelle shook his great bald head, his chains clinking softly. “Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but I fear that His Grace does not always listen to wise counsel.”

 

“My royal brother loves tournaments and feasts,” Renly Baratheon said, “and he loathes what he calls ‘counting coppers.’ ”

 

“I will speak with His Grace,” Ned said. “This tourney is an extravagance the realm cannot afford.”

 

“Speak to him as you will,” Lord Renly said, “we had still best make our plans.”

 

“Another day,” Ned said. Perhaps too sharply, from the looks they gave him. He would have to remember that he was no longer in Winterfell, where only the king stood higher; here, he was but first among equals. “Forgive me, my lords,” he said in a softer tone. “I am tired. Let us call a halt for today and resume when we are fresher.” He did not ask for their consent, but stood abruptly, nodded at them all, and made for the door.

 

Outside, wagons and riders were still pouring through the castle gates, and the yard was a chaos of mud and horseflesh and shouting men. The king had not yet arrived, he was told. Since the ugliness on the Trident, the Starks and their household had ridden well ahead of the main column, the better to separate themselves from the Lannisters and the growing tension. Robert had hardly been seen; the talk was he was traveling in the huge wheelhouse, drunk as often as not. Robert might be hours behind, but he would still be here too soon for Ned’s liking.

 

He had only to look at Sansa’s and Arya’s faces to feel the rage twisting inside him once again. The last fortnight of their journey had been unhappy, to say the least. Sansa blamed herself for not speaking up more before the king, Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher’s boy. Both were sullen at the loss of their wolves, and Ned was certainly missing Fang. He had tried to tell his daughters that the direwolves were happier back in the North, the South was too warm for them. It was better for them to be far away and alive, rather than dead.

 

Ned crossed the outer yard, passed under a portcullis into the inner bailey, and was walking toward what he thought was the Tower of the Hand when Littlenger appeared in front of him. “You’re going the wrong way, Stark. Come with me.”

 

Hesitantly, Ned followed. Littlenger led him into a tower, down a stair, across a small sunken courtyard, and along a deserted corridor where empty suits of armor stood sentinel along the walls.

 

They were relics of the Targaryens, black steel with dragon scales cresting their helms, now dusty and forgotten. “This is not the way to my chambers,” Ned said.

 

“Did I say it was? I’m leading you to the dungeons to slit your throat and seal your corpse up behind a wall,” Littlenger replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We have no time for this, Stark. Cat awaits.”

 

“What game are you playing, Littlenger? She’s in Winterfell, hundreds of leagues from here.”

 

“Oh?” Littlenger’s grey-green eyes glittered with amusement. “Then it appears someone has managed an astonishing impersonation. For the last time, come. Or don’t come, and I’ll keep her for myself.” He hurried down the steps, out of direct reach. If he had been in reach, Ned would have made him regret those words.

 

Ned followed him warily, wondering if this day would ever end. He had no taste for these intrigues, but he was beginning to realize that they were meat and mead to a man like Littlenger.

 

At the foot of the steps was a heavy door of oak and iron. Petyr Baelish lifted the crossbar and gestured Ned through. They stepped out into the ruddy glow of dusk, on a rocky bluff high above the river. “We’re outside the castle,” Ned said.

 

“You’re a hard man to fool, Stark,” Littlenger said with a smirk. “Was it the sun that gave it away, or the sky? Follow me. There are niches cut in the rock. Try not to fall to your death, Cat would never understand.” With that, he was over the side of the cliff, descending as quick as a monkey.

 

Ned studied the rocky face of the bluff for a moment, then followed more slowly. Littlefinger was a much smaller man, making climbing down cliffs easier for him. Ned however, was far from small, he needed to take more care lest he slip and fall. The niches were there, as Littlefinger had promised, shallow cuts that would be invisible from below, unless you knew just where to look for them. The river was a long, dizzying distance below. Ned kept his face pressed to the rock and tried not to look down any more often than he had to.

 

When at last he reached the bottom, a narrow, muddy trail along the water’s edge, Littlefinger was lazing against a rock and eating an apple. He was almost down to the core. “You are growing old and slow, Stark,” he said, flipping the apple casually into the rushing water. “No matter, we ride the rest of the way.” He had two horses waiting. Ned mounted up and trotted behind him, down the trail and into the city.

 

Finally Baelish drew reins in front of a freshly painted building, three stories, timbered, it’s windows bright with lamplight in the gathering dusk. The sounds of music and raucous laughter drifted out and floated over the water. Beside the door swung an ornate oil lamp on a heavy chain, with a globe of leaded red glass.

 

Ned Stark dismounted in a fury. “A brothel,” he said as he seized Littlefinger by the shoulder and spun him around. “You’ve brought me all this way to take me to a brothel.”

 

“Your wife is inside,” Littlefinger said.

 

It was the final insult. “Oh, you’re a funny man.” Ned growled as he clasped a hand around the much smaller man’s throat and lifted him into the air with one hand. “A very funny man…”

 

“My Prince,” an urgent voice called out. “He speaks the truth.” There were footsteps behind him.

 

Ned spun around, still holding a struggling Littlefinger by the throat, his feet kicking clear off the ground. Ned saw an old white-haired man hurry toward them. He was dressed in brown roughspun, and the soft flesh under his chin wobbled as he ran. “This is no business of yours,” Ned began; then, suddenly, the recognition came. “Rodrik?”

 

Rodrik nodded. “Your ladies awaits you upstairs.”

 

Ned was lost. “My ladies? Who else is here? This is not some strange jape of Littlefinger’s?” He relaxed his grip on Littlefinger, but did not drop him.

 

“Would that it were, Stark.” Littlefinger choked out. Ned released him properly. Littlefinger fell to his knees on the ground, then stood, trying to regain some dignity. “Follow me, and try to look a shade more lecherous and a shade less like the King’s Hand. It would not do to have you recognized. Perhaps you could fondle a breast or two, just in passing.”

 

They went inside, through a crowded common room where a fat woman was singing bawdy songs while pretty young women in linen shifts and wisps of colored silk pressed themselves against their lovers and dandled on their laps. No one paid Ned the least bit of attention. Rodrik waited below while Littlefinger led him up to the third floor, along a corridor, and through another door.

 

Inside, Cat and Elia were waiting. They both cried out when they saw him enter, ran to him, and embraced him fiercely.

 

“My ladies,” Ned whispered in wonderment as he clasped his women close to him.

 

“Oh, very good,” said Littlefinger, closing the door. “You recognized your wife.”

 

“We feared you might never come.” Elia whispered against his chest.

 

“Petyr has been bringing us reports.” Cat informed him. “He told us of your troubles with Arya and the young prince. How are the girls?”

 

“Sad and angry, I fear.” he told them. “I-I do not understand. What are you doing in King’s Landing? What’s happened?” Ned asked.

 

“We have news for you.” Cat said.

 

Ned was lost. “What is it? Why are you here? Where is Ash? What is this place?”

 

“Just what it appears,” Littlefinger said, easing himself onto a window seat. “A brothel. Can you think of a less likely place to find Princesses?” He smiled. “As it chances, I own this particular establishment, so arrangements were easily made. I am most anxious to keep the Lannisters from learning that Cat and princess Martell are here in King’s Landing.”

 

“Why?” Ned asked.

 

Cat put a finger to his lips. “Let us tell it all, my love. It will go faster that way. Listen.”

 

So he listened, and they told it all, from Cat’s attack in the godswood to Varys and the guardsmen and Littlefinger. And when they were done, Ned sat dazed beside the table, the dagger in his hand. He thanked the gods for the direwolves and that every member of house Stark had their own guardian wolf. But you sent Fang, Lady and Nymeria away… His father’s voice whispered through his head. Ned had led his children and household into a den of vipers without their protectors.

 

Painfully, Ned forced his thoughts back to the dagger and what it meant. “The Imp’s dagger,” he repeated. It made no sense. His hand curled around the smooth dragonbone hilt, and he slammed the blade into the table, felt it bite into the wood. It stood mocking him. “Why should Tyrion Lannister want my wives dead?”

 

“Do you Starks have nought but snow between your ears?” Littlefinger asked. “The Imp would never have acted alone.”

 

“The Lannisters are more than capable of monstrous acts…” Elia said, looking away from them.

 

Ned rose and paced the length of the room. “If the queen had a role in this or, gods forbid, the king himself ... no, I will not believe that.” Yet even as he said the words, he remembered that chilled morning on the barrowlands, and Robert’s talk of sending hired knives after the Targaryen princess. He remembered Elia’s infant son, the red ruin of what had been his skull, and the way the king had turned away, as he had turned away in Darry’s audience hall not so long ago.

 

“Most likely the king did not know,” Littlefinger said. “It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see.”

 

Ned had no reply for that. The face of the butcher’s boy swam up before his eyes, cloven almost in two, and afterward the king had said not a word. His head was pounding.

 

Littlefinger sauntered over to the table, wrenched the knife from the wood. “The accusation is treason either way. Accuse the king and you will dance with Ilyn Payne before the words are out of your mouth. The queen ... if you can find proof, and if you can make Robert listen, then perhaps ...”

 

“We have proof,” Ned said. “We have the word of the Catspaw…” Though as he said the words, Ned knew there were none who would take the word of a common criminal over the word of Cersei Lannister, even if the man were still alive to talk. “We have the dagger...”

 

“This?” Littlefinger flipped the knife casually end over end. “A sweet piece of steel, but it cuts two ways, my lord. The Imp will no doubt swear the blade was lost or stolen while he was at Winterfell, and with his hireling dead, who is there to give him the lie?” He tossed the knife lightly to Ned. “My counsel is to drop that in the river and forget that it was ever forged.”

 

Ned regarded him coldly. “Lord Baelish, I am a Stark of Winterfell. Someone hired a man to rape and murder my wives. If you truly believe I could forget that, you are as big a fool now as when you took up sword against my brother.”

 

“A fool I may be, Stark... yet I’m still here, while your brother has been moldering in his frozen grave for some years now. If you are so eager to molder beside him, far be it from me to dissuade you, but I would rather not be included in the party, thank you very much.”

 

“You would be the last man I would willingly include in any party, Lord Baelish.”

 

“You wound me deeply.” Littlefinger placed a hand over his heart. “For my part, I always found you Starks a tiresome lot, but Cat seems to have become infatuated with you, for reasons I cannot comprehend. I shall try to keep you alive for her sake. A fool’s task, admittedly, but I could never refuse your wife anything.”

 

“I told Petyr our suspicions about Jon Arryn’s death,” Cat said. “He has promised to help you find the truth.”

 

That was not news that Eddard Stark welcomed, but it was true enough that they needed help, and Littlefinger had been almost a brother to Cat once. It would not be the first time that Ned had been forced to make common cause with a man he despised. “Very well,” he said, thrusting the dagger into his belt. “You spoke of Varys. Does the eunuch know all of it?”

 

“Not from our lips,” Elia said. “You do not bring fools into your bed, Eddard Stark. But Varys has ways of learning things that no man could know. He has some dark art, Ned, I swear it.”

 

“He has spies, that is well known,” Ned said, dismissive.

 

“You do not know him as I do.” Elia insisted. “Rodrik spoke to Ser Aron Santagar in all secrecy, yet somehow the Spider knew of their conversation. That eunuch survived the Mad King… there is a foulness behind his eyes.”

 

Littlefinger smiled. “Leave Lord Varys to me, princess. If you will permit me a small obscenity—and where better for it than here —I hold the man’s balls in the palm of my hand.” He cupped his fingers, smiling. “Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls. You see, if the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing, and Varys would not like that. Were I you, I would worry more about the Lannisters and less about the eunuch.”

 

“I assure you, I have enough worry in me for all my enemies, Littlefinger.” Elia frowned.

 

“Elia, Cat,” he said, turning to his women, “there is nothing more you can do here. I want you both to return to Winterfell at once. It is not safe in King’s Landing for you.”

 

“We had hoped to see the girls ...” Cat said.

 

“That would be most unwise,” Littlefinger put in. “The Red Keep is full of curious eyes, and children talk.”

 

“He speaks truly, my love,” Ned told her. He embraced Cat and Elia. “Take Rodrik and ride for Winterfell. I will watch over the girls. Go home to Ash and our children and keep them safe.”

 

“As you wish.” Cat lifted her face, and Ned kissed her, then Elia. All three held each other in tight embrace.

 

“Would you like to make use of a bedchamber?” asked Littlefinger. “I should warn you, Stark, we usually charge for that sort of thing around here.”

 

“A moment alone, that’s all I ask,” Cat said.

 

“Very well.” Littlefinger strolled to the door. “Don’t be too long. It is past time the Hand and I returned to the castle, before our absence is noted.”

 

Ned kept his voice polite as he said, “You have my thanks, Lord Baelish.”

 

“Oh, now there’s a treasure,” Littlefinger said, exiting.

 

When the door had closed behind him, Ned turned back to his women. “Once you are home, inform lord Martark that he is to fortify Moat Cailin. And send a raven to lord Howland, tell him make preparations to seal the Neck against invaders. Instruct Lords Manderly and Ryder that they are to strengthen and repair all the defences at both ends of the Great Canal, and see that they are well manned. Tell them to double their sea patrols as well. I also want eighty new war galleys to be built, half for each coast. It’ll be expensive, but not so dear. If there is war, we shall need all the preparations we can make.”

 

“War?” The fear was plain on Elia’s face, as she put a hand on her stomach.

 

“It will not come to that,” Ned promised her, praying it was true. He took them both in his arms again. “The Lannisters are merciless in the face of weakness, but they would not dare attack the north without all the power of the realm behind them, and that they shall not have. I must play out this fool’s masquerade as if nothing is amiss. Remember why I came here. If I find proof that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn ...”

 

He felt Cat tremble in his arms. She clung to him. “If,” she said, “what then, my love?”

 

That was the most dangerous part, Ned knew. “All justice flows from the king,” he told her. “When I know the truth, I must go to Robert.” And pray that he is the man I think he is, he finished silently, and not the man I fear he has become.

 

“Ned…” Cat said, tentatively. “There is something else you should know…”

 

“What is it?” Ned looked into the two big pairs of eyes gazing up at him.

 

“Your wives and I are…” Elia paused, her eyes glassy with un-fallen tears.

 

“It seems we’ll be having a few new pups to add to our pack soon.” Cat smiled as she bit her lip. Just the way Arya did.

 

Ned sat down, stunned. A swirling vortex of euphoria and dread washed over him. On the one hand, he was the happiest man in the world, again.

 

On the other, these were more burdens to add on the already mountainous pile. His throat felt drier than the sands of Dorne.

 

Ned knew he should say something.

 

“Truly?” Was all he managed to get out as he got back to his feet, unable to control the grin that was starting to take over his face. “That’s wonderful!” He took them in his arms again and held them close. “How do you feel? Ash too, truly?” Ned asked them.

 

“I’ve been pregnant many times before, bringing more of our children into the world comes naturally to me.” Cat tried to stifle a happy giggle. “Ash is just as content, she gets hot baths every night and our soft feather bed to sleep in.” Then they both looked to Elia.

 

“I can’t say i’m not surprised by the news from Cat and Ash,” Ned said to Elia. “I thought-“

 

“So did I.” Elia interrupted him. “I guess i’m not too old to bear children and I should have kept drinking Moontea...”

 

“How do you feel about it?” Ned asked again as all three of them sat on the bed in the room.

 

“…Scared.” Elia uttered after a long pause, her fingers intertwined in her lap.

 

Rhaegar forcing Elia to birth children had nearly killed her, Ned was scared for her too. Especially after her son had been cruelly murdered in front of her. Sometimes Ned had dreams of when he came into Elia’s chambers and saw what was happening. Sometimes he saved Aegon too, killing the Mountain before he could reach them, sometimes he would walk in to find him standing over Elia’s mangled corpse as well, but mostly it was the Mountain holding the broken body of Elia’s son in his hands.

 

One death was not enough for him.

 

“We will all be with you, darling.” Cat placed a comforting hand on Elia’s shoulder. “Luwin knows all that there is to about helping a mother give birth.”

 

“Not that you’ve ever needed his help.” Elia japed, making both Ned and Cat laugh softly.

 

“Cat’s right.” Ned added. “We will all be with you on this journey… and i’m looking forward to meeting our child.”

 

Elia looked at him with her big, beautiful eyes. “There’s something else too…” Elia nearly sobbed into his shoulder.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to all three of you being pregnant.” Ned tried to lighten the mood, making her laugh. When Elia did not talk, Ned urged her. “What is it?”

 

“Aegon was your son.” Elia said quickly.

 

The world froze, words failed him, his heart stopped, Ned felt his chest tighten as his ears began to ring.

 

My Son?

 

Ned went over the timeline in his head, due to the travel times to and from Harrenhal he’d never been quite sure when Aegon had been conceived, only that Aegon was not even a year old when the rebellion ended.

 

Elia would not lie to him, Aegon was his son.

 

Ned was stunned as he got to his feet, the world began to spin.

 

My Son?

 

The words kept repeating in his head. Now the weight of his failure was unimaginably heavier on his conscience. Ned had failed as a man in not protecting Elia, now he had failed as a father too… He needed something to kill. Rhaegar, the Mad King, the Mountain, anyone he could get his hands on.

 

My Son?

 

Ned only had a peripheral awareness of Cat talking to Elia, her words muffled, as if strayed into a dream.

 

My Son?

 

Or a nightmare.

 

What are you doing? Is this how a worthy Stark acts? His father’s voice asked him. A mother of your children needs you.

 

Ned gritted his teeth as he smothered the growing storm of rage and grief inside him, even as he felt the tears run down his cheeks.

 

It took less than a second for Ned to cross the room and take Elia back into his arms.

 

“You did not need to bear this burden alone.” He managed to croak out.

 

“Are you not angry?” Elia asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

 

The last thing you need is for me to thunder and rage at you.

 

“There’s no anger here.” Ned said instead. “Just grief.”

 

It was mostly the truth.

 

“You could have told us.” Cat said softly as she stroked Elia’s curly, jet black hair.

 

“It was so horrible…” Elia said, mournfully.

 

“A burden shared is a burden lessened.” Ned responded. He thought back to all the times they had stood by Aegon’s grave in Winterfell with Elia. All those years and Ned hadn’t known he was mourning his own son.

 

Elia turned up to him with tearful eyes and kissing him gently, then deeply. Ned felt the rest of the world slip away as they kissed, tenderly.

 

“Thank you for telling me.” Ned said.

 

“I feel there is something we need to do before we return to Winterfell then.” Ned heard Cat say as he and Elia separated.

 

“It’s been a long time coming.” Ned agreed. “Elia, you have been my wife in all but name these past years, will you do me the honour of marr-?” Ned could barely get the words out before Elia crashed her lips to his again.

 

“Of course i’ll marry you, you big dumb dog.”

 

“Then as the Stark of Winterfell, I pronounce you to be my wife.” Ned declared. “We can have a ceremony when we are all in Winterfell.”

 

“I think we should consummate our marriage.” Cat giggled. Ned and Elia agreed. All three kissed each other, celebrating the news. Eventually, their kisses got more fervent and they made their way back to the bed.

 

Ned fell to the mattress with a dull thump as Cat and Elia pushed him down. He could do naught but gaze up in wonder at the beautiful women taking their dresses off in front of him. Their bodies had both changed since he had seen them last. Their curves had gained more abundance, the once flat expanses of their stomachs now showed the little bumps of the children they both carried.

 

Ned held the firm belief that his women never looked more beautiful than when they were pregnant, they were both practically glowing in the light of the oil lamps. He cursed the absence of Ashara, wishing she was here to celebrate with them. Cat seemed to share his opinion.

 

“A pity Ash isn’t here with us.” She said as she looked down at Ned, running her hands over her curvy body.

 

“When we’re all home together, we’re going to lock you in our chambers for a week.” Elia giggled.

 

“It seems you are somewhat overdressed, my love.” Cat’s eyes roamed his body, noticing the straining of his breeches.

 

“You have my sincere apologies, my ladies.” Ned responded as he ripped his clothes off, feeling the cool air against his skin. Both Cat and Elia stared lovingly at his cock as it throbbed, hard as iron. As they hadn’t fucked in a while, they chose to forgo the foreplay and move straight to the sex.

 

That’s how Ned found himself looking down at Elia and Cat as they lay on their backs on the bed as he stood above them, taking the time to marvel at the women before him. Where Elia was dark, Cat was light, Elia’s bronzed skin meeting Cat’s pale freckled flesh, their plump curves pressed together as their tongues danced. As Elia was likely more in need of some release after confessing the truth after so many years, Ned decided he was going to fill her cunt first.

 

Taking a firm grip of his throbbing member, Ned dragged his cock head along Elia’s silky, hairless slit. Darnish women had a habit of shaving all the hair from their nether regions, a habit Cat had been quick to adopt as well, much to Ned’s approval. The last thing someone wanted as they orally pleasured their lover was to find hair in their mouth. Elia let out a very unladylike moan as Ned slipped his cock inside her wet tunnel.

 

After months away, it was good to be home.

 

“Should we try for twins?” Ned joked as he set a languid pace, slowly thrusting all the way up to the hilt, then drawing back so only his cock head remained.

 

“I don’t - uuhhh - know what they teach you in the North - yes! - but it doesn’t quite work like that.” Elia bit her lower lip and moaned in response as Cat giggled, stroking her dainty hands along Elia’s sides, making her shiver.

 

“Are you sure?” Ned grinned down at her. Elia’s head was tilted back, her eyes rolling in pleasure.

 

“Yes!” She cried in ecstasy as Ned thrust particularly deep inside her.

 

“Well I don’t see any harm in trying… Do you?” Ned began to quicken his pace, moving his hips back and forth with purpose, feeling his throbbing shaft enveloped in Elia’s molten heat again and again.

 

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Ned! Fuck your Dornish whore!” Elia quivered around him.

 

“His Dornish wife now!” Cat laughed as she clasped Elia’s hand. “And mine too.”

 

“The gods have certainly been generous to us.” Ned chuckled as he held Elia by her ankles, ploughing her for all her worth. The wet slaps of his balls clapping against her thick arse echoing around the room. “Giving us not just one Dornish wife, but two!”

 

“Let’s see if these things have their milk yet!” Cat took Elia’s massive, bouncing tits in one hand, then latched her lips around the coal-black nipple, sucking eagerly, her teeth, tugging on Elia’s nipple piercing.

 

“You’d drain every drop before the babe ever got a mouthful.” Elia moaned as Cat pleasured her.

 

Cat lifted her mouth from Elia’s tit. “You’ve drunk the milk from my teats often enough, seems only fair I get to enjoy it from you.”

 

She was not wrong, Cat’s breasts had been the target of much attention from her lovers. Ned had lost count of the number of times he had filled Cat with his seed, watching Ash and Elia sucking on Cat’s nipples.

 

Feeling the Elia’s cunt clenching around him, Ned could tell that she was close to finishing, and with a few well-aimed thrusts, Elia came to an explosive end. The bedding beneath them was soaked, yet that did not deter them, Ned fucked Elia through every musical tone of her operatic orgasm.

 

It was some time before she recovered, she clasped one of her small hands around Cat’s throat and stuffed three of her fingers into Cat’s cunt. She tried to play Ash’s part of being more dominant, somewhat unsuccessfully.

 

“Are you enjoying this, Tully whore?” Elia tried to sound stern as she fingered Cat. A difficult task as her voice was skipping up and down multiple octaves as Ned ravaged her. He could see that Cat was humouring Elia, she was always the most conciliatory in bed. “Do you like watching me fuck your husband?” Elia carried on.

 

“I think it’s our husband now, my love.” Cat gave Elia a dazzling smile as her bright blue eyes shone with lust. “And I’d say that he’s doing the majority of the fucking.” They both broke down into fits of giggles together. “I’m close…” Cat said as she placed a hand on Elia’s wrist, holding her there.

 

“Me too.” Elia said. “And from how our dear husband hasn’t been saying much, i’d say he’s close as well.”

 

“I can hold as long as you want.” Ned panted. That was mostly true, he’d already fucked Elia through her third orgasm, so he was ready to fill her cunt then give Cat a good seeing to.

 

“Then let’s all finish together.” Elia smirked. “All of us!”

 

Not too long after Elia’s words they all came to an ecstatic end together. Ned filling Elia with his seed and feeling his thighs being sprayed by Cat’s and Elia’s juices. He continued to plough Elia through their climaxes. As he pulled out of her, a deluge of his seed flowed from her well-used cunt.

 

“I believe it’s your turn now, my dear.” Ned smirked at Cat with a toothy grin.

 

Before Ned knew it, he was lying back on the bed as Cat rode him. Her feet were planted on either side of his hips, hands on her knees as she gracefully bounced on the entire length of his achingly hard manhood. Elia was lying at the head of the bed, lavishing Ned’s balls with her tongue.

 

Currently, Ned’s attention was fixed on Cat’s massive, perfect breasts as they swayed on her chest, in time with her bounces, her piercing’s twinkling in the moonlight that streamed through the open window.

 

“I swear they keep getting bigger.” Ned reached up to cup the soft mounds of flesh in his hands.

 

“I don’t think they’ve stopped growing since my first moonblood” Cat moaned as she gyrated her hips on his pelvis. She was alternating between bouncing up and down on his cock, and sitting down on him hard, taking Ned’s shaft as deep as he would go, then gyrating her hips in circles. It turned her cunt into a fountain as it clenched tightly around him.

 

“Fuck me, Ned! Fuck me!” Cat cried as she placed her hands on his chest, bouncing up and down with urgency, chasing her end.

 

“As you wish.” Ned took firm handfuls of her wide hips and began to thrust up into her cunt at a quick pace.

 

“Ahhh! Ah!! YES!!!” Cat screamed as she lost her footing and sat heavily on Ned, not that he minded as it meant her was buried up to the hilt inside her.

 

As this was going on, Elia was happily sucking away on Ned’s ballsack, lavishing it with her lips. Every now and then. Her tongue would find it’s way to Ned’s arsehole, licking it pleasantly. It seemed that Elia had developed a fetish for sticking her tongue up his arse, not something that Ned was inclined to deny her.

 

One of the most powerful climaxes of his life had been when Ash had taken his member all the way down her throat, with Cat sucking his balls and Elia with her tongue in his arsehole. Ned chuckled at the memory of Ash nearly choking on all the seed he had sprayed forth.

 

With one hand pinching Cat’s nipple and the other on her hip, Ned felt Cat come undone around him, again. Her breath became short as she panted like a bitch in heat, she started to quiver and shake as if she had just been pulled out of an icy lake.

 

“AHH! AHHHHH!! AHHHHHH FUCK!!!!” Cat’s head tilted back, her eyes rolling as her back arched, giving Ned a spectacular view of her godly breasts. Ned was certain Cat’s voice could be heard throughout the brothel, probably even the entire street of silk. Though they were several floors up, but the big open window meant that people on the street would almost certainly hear her.

 

It was that moment when the door to their room swung open. Ned tilted his head back, to see who had come in. As his head was upside down, it took him a moment to make sense of what he was seeing. In the doorway stood two tanned men with brightly coloured hair and beards, with whores on their arms.

 

Judging by their hair, Ned guessed they were Tyroshi sailors coming to the brothel to enjoy a woman’s touch after a long voyage. For a moment, they stood, stunned, looking at Cat riding Ned without restraint.

 

“Argh, fuck off! We’re using this room!” Cat shouted angrily at them. They still stood, watching Cat writhing on Ned’s cock, not even slowing down. “Go!” She said again. This time they seemed to understand and beat a hasty retreat, closing the door behind them.

 

“You’re not usually one to turn down an audience.” Elia giggled, after she pulled away from Ned’s balls.

 

“We are supposed to be keeping our presence her a secret,” Cat responded, still riding Ned’s cock, languidly. “we should at least try to remain incognito.”

 

“You make a fair point, my love.” Ned told her.

 

“I’d have thought after all these years you’d have worked out that i’m always right.” Cat giggled.

 

They carried on their lovemaking for a number of hours, Ned was taking Elia up the arse, raining down blow after blow on the fleshy globes as she lay on top of Cat when the door to the room burst open again.

 

“Cat!” The trio heard a cry from behind them. They looked to the doorway to see Littlefinger standing there.

 

“Get out! What are you doing here?” Cat shrieked, covering herself with a blanket from the bed. Ned thought it was curious that she suddenly felt a need to cover herself. The small man pointed an accusatory finger in Ned’s direction.

 

“I saw HIM fucking your mother at Riverrun before you were married!”

 

Ned froze.

 

Shit.

 

“What?” Cat was clearly shocked and angry, she looked to Ned. “Is this true?” Ned knew he could not lie to his wife, Cat always knew when he lied.

 

“Cat…” Ned started, unsure how best to word his relationship with Cat’s mother. Elia burst into laughter on the bed, perhaps too tired to get up after being taken up the arse.

 

“See?” Littlefinger stated, closing the door behind him. “He cannot lie. He’s a degenerate. Come with me, we can runaway together. I know you truly love me, you said so when I took your maidenhead.”

 

“WHAT?!?” For some reason, Cat seemed angrier at that than finding out Ned had fucked her mother. “You never took my maidenhead.” She got up from the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her and pointed at Littlefinger crossly.

 

“Yes I did.” Littlefinger insisted. Gone was the witty, sly man Ned had seen earlier. Before him stood a man who was nearer to a boy. A boy who thought Cat loved him. “You came to me after I tried to win your hand from Brandon-“

 

“That was Lysa! I never went to you after that duel!” Cat thundered. “Gods! Did you really think I bedded you, for all these years?”

 

“But-“

 

“Wait a second.” Ned said evenly. “If you knew the truth all these years, why wait until now to say?”

 

“I didn’t see your face at Riverrun, but I saw your cock. When I saw you and Cat together I recognised it instantly.”

 

“You were watching us?!?” Cat fumed. Littlefinger took a few steps back until Ned used his ice magic to freeze Littlefinger’s feet to the ground.

 

“I-I“ Littlefinger stammered. “You don’t seem angry that your husband fucked your own mother and kept it from you. I told you as soon as I knew!”

 

Cat paused for a moment, then slowly turned to back to Ned, he looked her squarely in the eye and braced himself for his Tully wife’s fury, Elia was still panting on the bed, looking at the three of them. In a surprising turn of events, Cat let go of the blanket, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her naked body again, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glow in ethereal light.

 

Taking slow steps, she padded over to Ned, he grunted as he felt her hand wrap around his cock and began to rub along it’s length. Ned was unsure if it was a dream.

 

“When?” Was all she said.

 

“Harrenhal, she’s the one who convinced me to ask Ash for a dance.”

 

“But again at Riverrun?”

 

“…My father and brother had just died, she offered comfort that I did not deny, though I should have.”

 

“So you fucked my mother in my father’s castle?”

 

“Yes…”

 

She paused for a moment. “Have you ever thought of taking us together?”

 

“You utter whore.” Elia laughed from the bed.

 

“You fucked your niece.” Cat shot back.

 

“So did you. Besides, I was fucked with her, by our lusty tomcat of a husband.”

 

“Did you ever think about taking me and my mother together?” Cat reiterated, her jerking beginning to get faster.

 

“Yes.” Ned finally gasped out.

 

“You’re a whore as well, Ned.” Elia called out.

 

It was true. He’d found himself dreaming of taking Cat and Minisa together in the godswood, rubbing their massive breasts on his cock, filling them with his seed, making them scream his name at the top of their lungs.

 

“Gods…” Cat moaned, arousal flushing her face and chest as red as her hair. Ned’s hands found their way to her massive breasts and arse, squeezing them with his fingers.

 

“I did not think this would arouse you so.” Ned chuckled, snaking a finger into her tight, wet cunt, making Cat moan even more.

 

“What have you done to me, Ned Stark…” Cat looked up at him with clear blue eyes. Ned only laughed and leaned down to kiss her, taking her lips with his own.

 

“Cat!” Littlefinger shouted from his position, rooted to the ground.

 

“That’s enough from you.” Ned responded, flicking a bolt of ice into Littlefinger’s mouth to freeze it shut and prevent him from talking. Cat giggled as they both walked to Littlefinger.

 

“I have an idea…” Cat smiled up at him, almost evilly.

 

Soon enough, Littlefinger was stripped naked with his hands and knees on the floor. Ned had frozen them in place so he could not move, nor could he talk.

 

“You tried to ruin my marriage.” Cat said as she lay down on Littlefinger’s back. He whimpered beneath her, with Elia pleasuring herself as she watched them. “How many did you tell you fucked me? How many times do I have to tell you I DO. NOT. WANT. YOU.” With her back resting on Littlefinger’s, she spread her thighs and looked up at Ned, bitting her bottom lip. “He’s always wanted to fuck me,” Cat said, “this is the closest he’s ever going to get”

 

Ned knelt down and plunged his cock all the way up to Cat’s womb.

 

“I think even this is too much for him.” Ned grunted down at Cat as she moaned at the filling sensation.

 

“Believe me,” Cat giggled. “He hates this more than he likes it.” Ned began to thrust in earnest again, fucking Cat without restraint as she lay atop Littlefinger. “GODS! FUCK!! YOU’RE SOOO GOOD!!” Cat wailed. “YOU OWN MY CUNT, NED! MY BODY IS YOURS!!”

 

Ned knew she was always a vocal lover, but it was likely she was giving it even more so that Littlefinger would remember it. Littlefinger tried to struggle beneath them as Cat’s thick red hair fell around his face. Cat’s legs were resting on Ned’s shoulders as he ploughed her to within an inch of her life.

 

Her massive breasts bounced wildly on her chest as Ned plundered her cunt. He was glad they were in a brothel, as it would mean Cat’s cries would only join the chorus of whores earning their pay. Cat squirted within minutes, bathing Ned, herself and Littlefinger in her juices.

 

Then a second time, and a third time.

 

On the fourth time, her tight silky cunt became too much for Ned. With a resounding roar, Ned filled Cat with his seed. Drawing Cat to his lips, Ned kept thrusting his throbbing manhood deep in to her molten depths, drawing out their shared pleasure.

 

Cat slid off Littlefinger’s back and on to the floor with a soft thud, Ned took Cat by her hair and walked her to a chair in front of Littlefinger.

 

Cat was crawling on all fours beside him. Ned imagined from his position, Littlefinger had an excellent view of her cunt, and the river seed leaking from it. Elia got up from the bed and joined Cat at his feet as they both knelt in front of his cock.

 

“Petyr, this is a man’s cock.” Cat said between laying kisses along Ned’s still-hard shaft. “Whereas you… Little by name, little by nature…” she giggled.

 

“You’ll never be able to compare to our husband.” Elia added, giggling as she licked his balls.

 

Ned saw that Littlefinger could only sob as he watched. He almost felt a pang of pity for the man, then remembered that he had tried to ruin his marriage earlier that night and had been telling people that he had fucked Cat. By the law of the land, Ned had every right to kill him for the insult.

 

Ned decided he would need help, so he warged into a passing bird and flew off to inform the Chosen Men.

 

By the time, they and Rodrik came to their room Ned was still sat in the chair, Cat was happily riding his cock again, facing Littlefinger as Elia licked Ned’s arsehole.

 

Ned looked up at the door and saw the light die in Harper’s eyes. “Did you really come South just to do this?” He asked forlornly.

 

“No, it’s just a happy coincidence.” Ned chuckled.

 

“Boys!” Cat exclaimed happily, only now noticing the Chosen Men had arrived. Both she and Elia got up from Ned and padded over to them, Cat on slightly unsteady legs.

 

“It’s been too long.” Elia added as they both hugged each of the men, as if they hadn’t just spent most of the night getting fucked in a brothel.

 

“Ramona sends her love, Harper.” Cat said as she hugged him. Rodrik and the Chosen men dragged their eyes away from the naked women, to a naked Ned, then to Littlefinger, who was still struggling on the floor, also naked.

 

“What you do in your own bedchambers is your businesses.” Harper said slowly, “I wished to the gods you actually thought that.” He added quietly.

 

“This is the Master of Coin.” Ned stated, then explained what had happened, to the shock and fury of his men.

 

“Permission to go ahead and murder him, sir?” Harper asked after Ned had finished, pulling a knife out. Littlefinger’s muffled cries could be heard even through the ice.

 

“Later.” Ned told him. “Hagman, Cooper, you will escort Cat, Elia and Rodrik out of the city, make sure they are not seen.”

 

“We should probably get dressed then.” Cat giggled as she and Elia picked up their dresses.

 

“Perkins” Ned turned to the youngest and smallest of the Chosen Men. “You look similar enough to lord Baelish, so you will wear his clothes and leave this establishment. Wear a cloak to cover your face. It’s dark, you’ll be difficult to see.”

 

“Where shall I go?” Perkins asked.

 

“To Fleebottom.” Ned told him. “I imagine you’ll find no lack of corpses there, find one of an appropriate size, dress him and bash his head until the face is unrecognisable. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Do not resort to murder.” Perkins nodded and began to take off his clothes.

 

Everyone’s getting dressed and undressed , Ned mentally chuckled to himself.

 

“The rest of you, stay here.” Ned ordered the remainder of the men. Cat and Elia were fully dressed now, and wearing their cloaks. “Remember what I told you, my loves.” Ned told them, before giving both a deep kiss.

 

“Be careful Ned.” Cat said.

 

“Make sure these children do not grow up without their father.” Elia added, placing a hand on her belly.

 

Cat went to a struggling Littlefinger. “You cannot be trusted and are therefore of no use to Ned.” She told him. “I will not mourn you.”

 

Not many other words were said Cat and Elia left.

 

Only Harper, Harris and Isiah remained with Ned and Littlefinger. Ned allowed all the ice, but the ice gagging Littlfinger to melt. He got up to his feet stiffly as he had been on the floor for hours. Littlefinger tried to run but Ned caught him by the throat easily.

 

“You could have lived, had you not thought that Cat belonged to you.” Was all Ned said as he choked the life from Petyr Baelish. It didn’t take long for his feet to stop twitching. When it was over, Ned let go of the body as it flopped to the floor.

 

“So, how do we get rid of this?” Isiah asked.

 

“I suppose chopping it into pieces would make it easier to move,” Harris suggested. “But it would be messy.”

 

“Not if I freeze him solid first.” Ned said as his eyes glowed blue and ice began to form on Littlefinger’s body. When he was fully frozen, Ned broke the body into smaller shards and chunks, enough for all four of them to easily carry in small bags. “He showed me a secret path out of the Red Keep that took us by a river.” Ned said as they finished putting Littlefinger’s remains into bags. “We’ll dump the shards there and they’ll wash out to see.”

 

“Then what?” Harper asked as they walked through the door.

 

“There is a war going on under our noses. One the Lannisters started.” Ned said. He thought of Jon Arryn, Lysa’s letter and the murderer sent after his wives. The crown’s empty treasury that he was certain could be blamed on Littlefinger. Finally of Cersei Lannister’s satisfied smirk. “Not of swords, spears and shields but of lies and deception. But it is no less dangerous.”

 

Don’t ever start fights. His father’s words ran through his head, a distant memory of times gone by.

 

But it you have to fight.

 

Win.

 

 

 

Notes:

And that’s chapter 12!

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Chapter 18: Chapter 13

Fresh snow was soft under her paws as she sharpened her claws on the trunk of an old oak tree. The moon hung high in the sky as the light snow fell quietly, covering the world in a pure white blanket.

 

A man-thing would have heard nothing in the wolf’s wood, but Shade could. A shadow-cat’s ears were even more sensitive than a not-cat’s, their eyes were much sharper too. To the unaware, the forest was deathly silent, but to Shade, it was teeming with life even in the hour of the wolf.

 

In the higher branches above her, mice and squirrels busied themselves, finding food for their offspring, trying to avoid the watchful eyes of predators in the night. Off in the distance, a snow owl took flight, no doubt trying to find food for it’s own offspring. It was the way of the world. Death would feed life, that would eventually die and feed more life.

 

Shade stretched as she settled on her branch, having finished sharpening her claws. She settled down to oversee what prey would be unlucky enough to happen upon her territory. Solitary hunting, lying in wait for her prey was by far her preferred option.

 

The not-cat’s always wanted to hunt together, howling at the moon, letting all prey within miles know where they were. A stealthy hunt was much more likely to end with food, Shade knew, her mother had taught her that in the den with the other kittens.

 

Then her man-thing had been given to her.

 

He was…acceptable as man-things went. He always seemed happy to scratch at the places on her fur that were more difficult to reach. His den was certainly the warmest place in the world, she had definitely made the right decision to whelp her kittens there, even if it had made her man-thing and his man-thing mates angry.

 

They had never seemed to mind when they disturbed Shade’s sleep with the sounds of their near-constant mating. Multiple times Shade had knocked things off from high places to show her man-things how she disapproved of them.

 

Yet in spite all the drawbacks of her man-things, Shade was never happier than when they all snuggled together in a pile.

 

A sound.

 

A lone sharp-bone-head walked beneath where Shade was perched among the branches. It was larger than her by a sizeable amount, and it’s head-bones were dangerous. It could skewer she if she wasn’t careful. Spreading her paws wide, Shade rose from her position, making ready to stalk her prey.

 

A wrong move could prove fatal, so she took her time, creeping down the tree onto the snowy ground. Stealth would be needed to take this prey by surprise. Shade silently made her way closer to the sharp bone head, making sure to stay out of sight and downwind of her prey.

 

As Shade edged closer, the smell of another animal wafted in on the wind. A young small female-bone-head. She eyed the sharp bone head as it went about it’s business, weighing the possibilities. The potential cost against potential reward. After a few moments of contemplation, she decided the small female-bone-head was the better option.

 

It was only a few hundred feet away, treading lightly along a riverbank. Shade crossed the distance quickly. This prey didn’t require anywhere near as much care as the other.

 

It was dead before it even knew Shade was there.

 

Steam rose into the air from the small female-bone-head’s wounds as the snow turned pink around it. Shade began to tear into the flesh of her kill, the scent of blood filling her nose.

 

A sound behind Shade sent her spinning round to face the potential danger. She saw two Ungor, one holding a makeshift spiked club, the other, a primitive spear. They were eyeing the small female-bone-head’s corpse with hungry eyes.

 

The beastmen had likely been hunting it before Shade had made her kill. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to give up her meal.

 

Shade placed a paw on the corpse and growled deeply, bearing her sharp teeth to the Ungor. They edged closer on cloven hooves, trying to encircle her.

 

Fast as lightning, Shade’s tensed muscles uncoiled as she launched herself into the air at the Ungor with a spear, deeming him to be the bigger threat. Long, razor sharp claws that could rend steel plate tore into the unprotected flesh of the Ungor as her jaw clamped shut around his throat and tore it out.

 

Then Shade went for the other, a mistimed jump lead to the Ungor’s club catching her in the side as she attacked, causing her to leap back and hiss in anger. Ungor couldn’t see much better than man-things in the dark and the were pretty stupid. So she decided to use a different tactic.

 

Shade retreated into the dark night, letting the Ungor go to the small female-bone-head’s corpse, turning it’s back. Shade made quick work of it. Ungor really were too stupid to live. She sat in the snow licked her fur, where the spiked club had nicked her side, drawing blood.

 

Dawn’s first light was beginning to reach out across the sky when Shade decided to wander back to her stone den. Ned felt his spirit leaving the Shadowcat, being called back to his body, over a thousand miles to the south.

 

Feeling his spirit return to his body, Ned stirred awake to the heavy smell of perfume and incense, wrapped in light bedsheets of fine silk. Opening his bleary eyes, Ned saw dawn’s orange-golden light streaming through the curtains of the large open window. He felt neither of his partners from the night before on either side of him. Looking down the bed, Ned saw they had decided to wake him up with a treat.

 

Kneeling by his legs, were Chataya, a Summer Islander whore and the madame of the brothel they were in, and her daughter by a Dornish man, Alayaya. Both dark skinned women were heart-stoppingly beautiful, with ample curves, long dark hair and flawless skin.

 

Ned had taken them both multiple times throughout the night. At the moment, they were both sucking his cock eagerly, lavishing his shaft with their tongues. The contrast of his pale cock against their, very dark skin made his cock throb with desire. Luckily, Chataya and Alayaya were the two most skilful whores he’d ever had the pleasure of bedding, so they were more than capable of satisfying him.

 

Ned didn’t come to Chataya’s just to sate his lusts however, he needed information. He needed to have eyes and hears throughout the city, Chataya was someone whom he trusted to oversee this. They had first met a long time ago, when he first came to King’s Landing.

 

Though Chataya was a whore, she was whip-smart and Ned trusted her more than he trusted the entire small council. Chataya would be his spymaster, bringing him information from the customers of the various brothels in King’s Landing. Men loved to boast of their deeds to the whores they’d bought and payed for, especially when they’d had many glasses of wine.

 

Ned thought of the first Master of Whispers, who started as a whore to Prince Daemon, but rose high in the court of King’s Landing. He sent a silent thanks to old Druid Yarmund, who’d made sure Ned knew the histories of the Seven Kingdoms before he went to the Vale.

 

“Good morning, lover.” Chataya’s melodic tone drew Ned from his thoughts. Turning his head to the voice, Ned saw Chataya smiling up at him, one of her hands around the base of his cock as Alayaya massaged his tip with her tongue.

 

“I see you two woke up early.” Ned half-grinned down at the two beautiful Summer Islanders, placing his hands behind his head.

 

“At Chataya’s, we pride ourselves on providing the best service to our patrons.” Alayaya giggled between laying kisses along his cock.

 

“That includes waking up our most impressive client by sucking his most impressive cock.” Chataya added, before sealing her lips around Ned’s cock-head and sucking hard, expertly swirling her tongue around it as Alayaya began to suck on his balls.

 

Ned groaned in response to the sensations, closing his eyes as he lay back to bask in the early morning, with two beautiful women pleasuring him. Feeling both their tongues on his cock-head, Ned opened his eyes and saw something that nearly made him finish right there. Chataya and Alayaya were sloppily kissing around his cock-head, swapping it between their mouths as their hands pumped his shaft. The mother and daughter’s tongues danced together for a time before pulling apart.

 

“I believe he’s ready to move on now.” Chataya grinned like a cheshire cat as she got to her knees on the bed.

 

“I’ll let you have the first go at him, mother.” Alayaya giggled as she left her position at Ned’s hip. “After last night, you’ll want a second chance.” Chataya gave her an angry look. As Ned had been fucking both women the night before, Chataya had been the first to pass out, much to the amusement of her daughter.

 

“I wasn’t properly prepared,” Chataya almost seemed annoyed. “Now I am.” She slung her thick, dark thighs over Ned’s hips, positioning his cock at the lips of her cunt, then slammed her hips down. “Gods!” She uttered something between a moan and a shout. “Sooo big!”

 

Feeling the tight, smooth, hot embrace of the cunt of the best whore in King’s Landing brought a low groan from Ned’s throat, as his hands snaked up to Chataya’s hips, taking hold. Every inch of his cock was buried inside Chataya, who trembled pleasantly above him. He could feel the muscles in her cunt squeeze him, trying to draw him deeper inside her, to fill her with his child.

 

“Fuck.” Ned gritted his teeth.

 

“You’re all the way inside me…” Chataya moaned. “Gods… So deep…”

 

“It’s such a beautiful cock.” Alayaya huskily whispered to Chataya as she came up behind her and groped Chataya’s exceedingly large breasts. “Cocks like that were made to be shared.”

 

Chataya’s eyes were closed as she began to move her hips, drawing his cock out a little, then easing it back in. She almost mewled when Ned pressed and inch deeper. He was content with the slow pace, most women needed to go slow when taking his cock. Alayaya pulled her mother into a deep kiss as she groped Chataya’s breasts, silencing her moans of pleasure as she writhed on Ned’s cock.

 

Noticing a golden glinting on the side table, Ned reached across and summoned his chain of office to his hand. Triss had been teaching him some limited telekinesis, she wanted him to be prepared for any eventuality in King’s Landing, so she had taken to teaching Ned more magic. Entirely coincidentally, Ned imagined, the magic Triss was teaching him could be applied in the bed chambers as well. Sometimes, Triss really wasn’t subtle

 

So far, Ned had not proven to be particularly proficient at any magic other than what had been given to him through the Trial of Winter. But, in the lives of all the great masters to walk Westeros, there was a time when they knew nothing too.

 

That thought gave Ned some comfort.

 

Holding his chain of golden hands, Ned placed it around Chataya’s neck as she rode him, the gold went well with her colouring. She looked a vision of beauty, wearing his golden chain. Deciding that Alayaya shouldn’t get all the fun, Ned reached up to grope Chataya’s massive, soft breasts, tweaking her coal-black nipples to hardness. Chataya began to shiver and moan even louder as Ned continued his ministrations on her breasts and in her cunt.

 

“Are you close, mother?” Alayaya asked as she wrapped her hand around the chain and tightened it around Chataya’s throat, squeezing hard.

 

“Yes!” Chataya gasped as Ned began to thrust harder up into her cunt. It only took three thrusts for Chataya to be brought to a screaming climax around Ned, bathing his lower regions in her essence. “Gods! FUCK!”

 

Ned watched as the mature whore quivered and shook as she rode him, feeling the tightness of her womanhood squeeze and massage his cock. Alayaya held her up as the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her soft curves.

 

“My turn now.” Alayaya giggled as she let go of Chataya, who flopped down on top of Ned, her large breasts cushioning her fall, somewhat.

 

“No.” Ned responded. “Your mother’s going to get her fill, then it’s your turn.”

 

“If you say so…” Alayaya pouted. “Then i’m at least going to get a good view.” She climbed over Ned’s legs and shuffled up the bed so she could lay down next to him. “Much better.” Alayaya smirked as she pressed her body to Ned’s side, he could feel the pinch of her emerald nipple piercing digging into his chest slightly. Not that he minded, as there was also a generous amount of tit flesh being pressed against him too.

 

“Now, Chataya…” Ned said, taking hold of her wide hips. “We did it your way first… Now we do it mine…” He lifted Chataya three quarters of the way off his cock, then slammed her down again, thrusting his hips up to meet her.

 

Then again, and again.

 

“AHHHHH!! FUCK!!! ARRGGHH!!! FUCK ME!!!!!” Chataya screamed as Ned pistoned her cunt with the force of a hundred men. Up and down she went, bouncing rapidly on Ned’s shaft, getting pummelled by his cock. Her face was buried into his chest, doing little to muffle her screams of pleasure.

 

They could no-doubt hear the cries of their madame in every corner of the brothel. Chataya was like a rag-doll in Ned’s hands, limp and boneless. Their lovemaking had sapped every once of strength from the woman, she was now completely at Ned’s mercy. Chataya’s face was buried into Ned’s chest, she didn’t even have the strength to hold herself up as Ned ravaged her.

 

“God’s… Look and you two…” Alayaya moaned into Ned’s ear, glancing down, he saw she was pleasuring herself as she watched them. “You look sooo beautiful together… Dark on light. This is where we belong. Fucking like wild animals. Take us back to the Red Keep with you…” She began to pinch her nipples. “We’ll be your maids… Your whores… You can fuck us as we clean your chambers…”

 

Ned took a had off Chataya’s hip, putting it into Alayaya’s hair, he pulled the whore into a fierce embrace as he ploughed her mother. They continued like this for some time, until Chataya’s wailing became too annoying.

 

“Make your mother be quiet.” Ned ordered Alayaya. To his surprise, she jumped right into action, taking Chataya’s gold chain in hand again, wrapping it tightly around her throat.

 

Then, Alayaya slapped her mother, hard. Again and again. Chataya’s cheeks were turning red under her daughter’s assault. The force of Alayaya’s blows almost made Ned want to stop her, but he decided against it, preferring to see what would happen.

 

“Be quiet, whore.” Alayaya growled, before kissing Chataya hungrily. Ned almost stopped thrusting at the display. To look at both women outside of the bedroom, one would have thought that Chataya was the dominant one… Apparently not.

 

None of them lasted much longer after that.

 

Chataya was brought to another mind-numbing climax, as Ned filled her with his seed. “Get pregnant, bitch.” Ned growled as he pumped his seed into the Summer Islander whore’s womb. Alayaya also brought herself to her end as she watched her mother and her lover together.

 

Chataya moaned wordlessly as Alayaya shifted her off Ned, near catatonic, she moaned even louder when Alayaya decided she wanted to taste Ned’s seed from her mother’s cunt. Ned watched as Alayaya feasted on her mother’s cunt, almost as if she were dying of thirst.

 

In spite of having likely just impregnating a woman, Ned’s cock was still achingly hard, something Alayaya did not fail to notice.

 

“Gods, I wish all of our clients were like you.” She moaned as she quickly mounted him. “You’ve got stamina for days.”

 

“You’ll have to make do with just me, i’m afraid.” Ned chuckled as he pinched Alayaya’s pierced nipple.

 

“I imagine I’ll survive.” Alayaya began to expertly gyrate her hips as she rode Ned. All he needed to do was lie back and enjoy the ride, fully sheathed inside Alayaya’s snug womanhood. His eyes rolled over Alayaya’s form. She was nearly as curvy as her mother, with wide hips and large breasts, capped with dark nipples. Though, she was also a little slimmer, no doubt from being much younger.

 

“She’s beautiful.” Chataya said, looking up at her daughter as she rested her head on Ned’s shoulder.

 

“Yes, she is.” Ned agreed.

 

“I’ve taught her everything know about the art of lovemaking.”

 

“It certainly shows.” Ned chuckled.

 

“There’s a reason she’s the most expensive whore in the brothel.” Chataya laughed. “You’re the only one who’s ever had the two of us.”

 

“I’m honoured.”

 

“Ohhh, the honour is ours, prince Stark.” Alayaya moaned. She placed her feet on either side of his hips, getting the leverage to lift herself up properly and drop back down on Ned’s cock. His eyes were drawn to the hypnotic swaying of Alayaya’s large breasts as they bounced up and down.

 

“I taught you to ride faster than that.” Chataya laughed, spanking Alayaya’s bouncing behind as it clapped against Ned’s thighs.

 

“Yes, mother…” Alayaya moaned, quickening her pace even more. Wet slaps of skin on skin echoed throughout the room. Ned almost laughed at how similar the sensations were to when Chataya was riding his cock. Like mother, like daughter…

 

The pressure building in Ned’s balls became too much for him. Taking Alayaya’s hips in hand, like he’d taken her mother’s, he started hammering into Alayaya’s cunt. The loss of control sent Alayaya howling, as Chataya stroked her hands along Alayaya’s body.

 

Eventually, they two came to their mutual satisfaction. Ned chuckled to himself, as he had likely just impregnated mother and daughter, both. When the quivering Alayaya finally flopped off Ned’s cock, Chataya was seemingly amazed to see that it was still hard.

 

Ned continued to ravage the pair of whores for the next two hours. Starting by fucking them as they leaned out of the massive window to the room. They were in the highest room of the brothel, but only four floors up, so the people on the street could still see the two beautiful women as Ned ploughed them to screaming climaxes.

 

An audience quickly formed outside of the brothel, one that cheered loudly for the whores to get fucked. Both of them certainly seemed to enjoy having an audience for their ravaging. For a moment, Ned was half tempted to throw them to the street and let the randy crowd her their way with them, but decided against it. Chataya and Alayaya were his whores. Eventually, Ned took them away from the window and back into the bed.

 

Ned was hammering into the pair of whores. Chataya, was on her back on the bedsheets, with Alayaya on top of her, giving her very sloppy kisses. Ned was ploughing both women at an obscene rate as they both moaned and screamed into each others mouths.

 

Their position allowed Ned to quickly alternate which cunt he was in. Two thrusts into Chataya, three into Alayaya, another three into Chataya again, then back to Alayaya. After a while, Ned finished his last time on both their faces. His white seed contrasting beautifully against their dark skin.

 

“I expect you to give me regular information reports.” Ned told Chataya as he redressed. “I want to know everything that’s happening in the city.”

 

“As you command, my Prince.” The brothel madame said as she got to shaky feet and padded over to a pitcher of water, that she drank greedily. “Though there are some requests I would make of you…”

 

“What is it you want?” Ned knew few people ever did something for nothing, he would just have to see what price Chataya would ask of him.

 

“Better protection for my girls.” She said. “Multiple times my girls have been attacked in the streets, by men who want for free what they’d rather not pay for in my establishment.”

 

It was certainly something Ned was willing, if not happy to do. Even if he hated King’s Landing, he did not wish ill on the innocent citizens who had the misfortune to live there.

 

“I’ll talk to the City Watch and have the patrols doubled in the Street of Silk.” He said, this seemed to satisfy the madame. “I will also give you a loan to pay for more protection.” He added.

 

“You’re very generous, my Prince.” Chataya smiled sensually at him, making use of the fact that she was still naked. “I feel I must thank you.”

 

“You ‘thanked me’ all through the night and again this morning.” They both laughed. After they were done conversing, Ned left the brothel and rode back to the Red Keep.

 

He already had a plan for what he was to do that day.

 

 

****************************************************************************************************

 

 

“Lord Arryn’s death was a great sadness for all of us, my prince,” Grand Maester Pycelle said. “I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? A cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey? I find it most refreshing in this heat.”

 

There was no denying the heat; Ned could feel the silk tunic clinging to his chest. It was times like this when Ned was thankful for his ice magic, he could make as much ice as he would ever need. Thick, moist air covered the city like a damp woolen blanket, and the riverside had grown unruly as the poor fled their hot, airless warrens to jostle for sleeping places near the water, where the only breath of wind was to be found.

 

“That would be most kind,” Ned said, seating himself.

 

Pycelle lifted a tiny silver bell with thumb and forenger and tinkled it gently. A young serving girl hurried into the solar. “Iced milk for the King’s Hand and myself, if you would be so kind, child. Well sweetened.”

 

As the girl went to fetch their drinks, the Grand Maester knotted his fingers together and rested his hands on his stomach. “The smallfolk say that the last year of summer is always the hottest. It is not so, yet ofttimes it feels that way, does it not? On days like this, I envy you northerners your summer snows.” The heavy jeweled chain around the old man’s neck chinked softly as he shifted in his seat. “To be sure, King Maekar’s summer was hotter than this one, and near as long. There were fools, even in the Citadel, who took that to mean that the Great Summer had come at last, the summer that never ends, but in the seventh year it broke suddenly, and… uh-ah, and here is our milk.” The serving girl placed the tray between them, and Pycelle gave her a smile. “Sweet child.” He lifted a cup, tasted, nodded. “Thank you. You may go.” When the girl had taken her leave, Pycelle peered at Ned through pale, rheumy eyes. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. You asked about Lord Arryn...”

 

“I did.” Ned sipped politely at the iced milk. It was pleasantly cold, but oversweet to his taste.

 

“If truth be told, the Hand had not seemed quite himself for some time,” Pycelle said. “We had sat together on council many a year, he and I, and the signs were there to read, but I put them down to the great burdens he had borne so faithfully for so long. Those broad shoulders were weighed down by all the cares of the realm, and more besides. His son was ever sickly, and his lady wife so anxious that she would scarcely let the boy out of her sight. It was enough to weary even a strong man, and the Lord Jon was not young. Small wonder if he seemed melancholy and tired. Or so I thought at the time. Yet now I am less certain.” He gave a ponderous shake of his head.

 

“What can you tell me of his final illness?”

 

The Grand Maester spread his hands in a gesture of helpless sorrow. “He came to me one day asking after a certain book, as hale and healthy as ever, though it did seem to me that something was troubling him deeply. The next morning he was twisted over in pain, too sick to rise from bed. When Lord Jon continued to weaken, I went to him myself, but the gods did not grant me the power to save him.”

 

“Did Lord Arryn say anything to you during his last hours?”

 

Pycelle wrinkled his brow. “In the last stage of his fever, the Hand called out the name Robert several times, but whether he was asking for his son or for the king I could not say. Lady Lysa would not permit the boy to enter the sickroom, for fear that he too might be taken ill. The king did come, and he sat beside the bed for hours, talking and joking of times long past in hopes of raising Lord Jon’s spirits. His love was fierce to see.” That had always been true. Though Robert could be difficult at the best of times, Ned could never deny that Robert loved his friends fiercely.

 

“Was there nothing else? No final words?”

 

“When I saw that all hope had fled, I gave the Hand the milk of the poppy, so he should not suer. Just before he closed his eyes for the last time, he whispered something to the king and his lady wife, a blessing for his son. The seed is strong, he said. At the end, his speech was too slurred to comprehend. Death did not come until the next morning, but Lord Jon was at peace after that. He never spoke again.”

 

Ned took another swallow of milk, trying not to gag on the sweetness of it. “Did it seem to you that there was anything unnatural about Lord Arryn’s death?”

 

“Unnatural?” The aged maester’s voice was thin as a whisper. “No, I could not say so. Sad, for a certainty. Yet in its own way, death is the most natural thing of all, Prince Eddard. Though I must say, Lord Arryn was not a young man, but he was still younger than me by a number of years and Lord Baelish younger still.” Ned shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “To think that those men died while an old man like me gets to keep on living…”

 

“Lord Baelish’s death was a tragedy.” Ned lied. Perkins had done his job well. They had found ‘Littlefinger’s’ body a day after he was reported missing. There were none at court who morned for him and thankfully, it didn’t seem like any knew Ned was the last person he had spoken to. So far, it had seemed no one suspected him. “Money lending is a grubby business, perhaps he ran afoul of someone he shouldn’t have.”

 

“That’s the most likely answer.” Pycelle said, ponderously. “It is unlikely we will ever know the villain that did it.”

 

“This illness that took Lord Arryn,” said Ned, moving the conversation back to where he wanted. “Had you ever seen its like before, in other men?”

 

“Near forty years I have been Grand Maester of the Seven Kingdoms,” Pycelle replied. “I have seen more of illness than I care to remember, my prince. I will tell you this: Every case is different, and every case is alike. Lord Jon’s death was no stranger than any other.”

 

“So you’re quite certain that Jon Arryn died of a sudden illness?”

 

“I am,” Pycelle replied gravely. “If not illness, what else could it be?”

 

“Poison,” Ned suggested quietly.

 

Pycelle’s sleepy eyes flicked open. The aged maester shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “A disturbing thought. What you suggest is possible, my lord, yet I do not think it likely. The Hand was loved by all. Who would dare to murder such a noble lord?”

 

“I have heard it said that poison is a woman’s weapon.”

 

Pycelle stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It is said. Women, cravens ... and eunuchs.” He cleared his throat. Above them, ravens cawed loudly in the rookery. “The Lord Varys was born a slave in Lys, did you know? Put not your trust in spiders, my lord.”

 

That was scarcely anything Ned needed to be told; there was something about Varys that made his flesh crawl. “I will remember that, Maester. And I thank you for your help. I have taken enough of your time.” He stood.

 

Grand Maester Pycelle pushed himself up from his chair slowly and escorted Ned to the door. “No trouble at all, my Prince. It is a great honour to help.”

 

“One thing,” Ned told him. “I should be curious to examine the book that you lent Jon the day before he fell ill.”

 

“I fear you would find it of little interest,” Pycelle said. “A ponderous tome by Grand Maester Malleon on the lineages of the great houses.”

 

“Still, I should like to see it.”

 

The old man opened the door. “As you wish. I have it here somewhere. When I find it, I shall have it sent to your chambers straightaway.”

 

“You have been most courteous,” Ned told him.

 

Pycelle bowed his head. “Come to me as often as you like, Lord Eddard. I am here to serve.”

 

Yes, Ned thought as the door swung shut, but whom?

 

On the way back to his chambers, Ned heard the sound wooden swords being smacked together. Folloing the sound, Ned came across Arya being taught by Syrio, a water dancer from Braavos. After having seen the blade of Uru Jon had gifted Arya, he had procured her an instructor fit to train her. Syrio came with high recommendation as the first sword to the Sealord of Braavos. Arthur had called Syrio one of the finest swordsmen he had ever seen, high praise coming from the Sword of the Morning.

 

The waterdancer had only asked one thing in payment: a Bravvosi sword of pure Uru, enchanted to fly to his hand when called upon. Dorkk had spent many nights perfecting the blade before Ned had given it to the waterdancer.

 

Ned was standing off to the side, watching as Arya and Syrio sparred. Back and forth they went, cutting high and low, blocking left and right. Ned’s trained eye could see Syrio was playing with Arya, allowing her to practice without fighting seriously. If the tales were true, Syrio would have great strength and speed, as the First Swords to the Sealord of Braavos were given enhancements to rival even the King’s Guard.

 

“He’s very quick, this Braavosi fella.” Cooper’s voice drew Ned from his thoughts, he turned to see him sitting by the open door.

 

“All’s quiet so far?” Ned asked the Chosen Man.

 

“Apart from the little princess telling me to kill her instructor when he accidentally caught her on the knuckle.” He laughed as he peeled an apple with a small knife.

 

“Tell me when she’s done.” Ned asked Cooper. “I’ll want to take her flying with Sansa later.” With that, Ned made his way to his chambers.

 

When he got there, he stripped off his sweat-stained silks and created a slab of ice for him to lie on. The cool embrace was certainly welcomed in the ghastly heat. Harper entered as he was still lying on the ice. “Ned,” he said, “Lord Varys wants to see you.”

 

“Escort him to my solar,” Ned said, reaching for a fresh tunic, the lightest linen he could find. “I’ll see him at once.”

 

The eunuch was sitting on the window seat when Ned entered, watching the knights of the Kingsguard practice at swords in the yard below. The other men looked to be children playing with sticks in comparison to Ser Barristan and Arthur. As you could count the number of men who could match them on one hand, they often sparred together. “If only Ser Barristan’s mind were as nimble as his blade,” he said wistfully, “our council meetings would be a good deal livelier.”

 

“Ser Barristan is as valiant and honorable as any man in King’s Landing.” Ned stated, unsure if he was being sarcastic or if he actually meant it. He was all too aware that Barristan did nothing to help Lyanna, or Brandon, or his father. Arthur had at least turned on Rhaegar. Yet, in the rat’s nest of a city, it could be had for a good man to do what he wished.

 

“Ah, yes. Your duel on the Trident is talked about almost as often as Robert and Rhaegar’s.” Varys giggled. “Mayhaps the two of you shall meet again on the tourney grounds. Who would be the victor, I wonder?”

 

The question of who might win the tourney interested Ned not in the least. “Is there a reason for this visit, Lord Varys, or are you here simply to enjoy the view from my window?”

 

The eunuch smiled. “Petyr and I both wished to help you uncover what happened to Jon Arryn. And after my dear friend’s… tragic demise.” Ned could have sworn he saw something in the eunuch’s eyes. He knows, Ned thought. If he knew, why not tell someone? Ned tried to keep his face a stone wall as Varys continued. “The Small Council grows smaller every day. It seems only I am left to help you, and so I have.”

 

“You have something for me?”

 

“Someone,” Varys corrected. “Four someones, if truth be told. Had you thought to question the Hand’s servants?”

 

Ned frowned. “Would that I could. Lady Arryn took her household back to the Eyrie.” Lysa had done him no favor in that regard. All those who had stood closest to her husband had gone with her when she left: Jon’s maester, his steward, the captain of his guard, his knights and retainers.

 

“Most of her household,” Varys tittered, “not all. A few remain. A kitchen girl hastily wed to one of Lord Renly’s grooms, a stablehand who joined the City Watch, a potboy discharged from service for theft, and Lord Arryn’s squire.”

 

“His squire?” Ned was pleasantly surprised. A man’s squire often knew a great deal of his comings and goings.

 

“Ser Hugh of the Vale,” Varys named him. “The king knighted the boy after Lord Arryn’s death.”

 

“I shall send for him,” Ned said. “And the others.”

 

Varys winced. “My Prince, step over here to the window, if you would be so kind.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Come, and I’ll show you, my Prince.”

 

Frowning, Ned crossed to the window. The eunuch made a casual gesture. “There, across the yard, at the door of the armory, do you see the boy squatting by the steps honing a sword with an oilstone?”

 

“What of him?”

 

“He used to report to Littlefinger, before his passing. I know not who he spies for now.” He shifted in the window seat. “Now glance at the wall. Farther west, above the stables. The guardsman leaning on the ramparts?”

 

Ned saw the man. “Another of the Littlefinger’s whisperers?”

 

“No, this one belongs to the queen. Notice that he enjoys a fine view of the door to this tower, the better to note who calls on you. There are others, many unknown even to me. The Red Keep is full of eyes.”

 

Ned had no taste for these intrigues. “Seven hells,” he swore. It did seem as though the man on the walls was watching him. Suddenly uncomfortable, Ned moved away from the window. He was already coming to the game late, he needed to know who were his friends, and who were his foes.

 

Varys stood up. “Is there a man in your service that you trust utterly and completely?”

 

“Yes,” said Ned.

 

“In that case, I have a delightful palace in Valyria that I would dearly love to sell you,” Varys giggled. “The wiser answer was no, my prince, but be that as it may. Send this paragon of yours to Ser Hugh and the others. Your own comings and goings will be noted, but all the spies in the Red Keep cannot watch every man in your service every hour of the day.” He started for the door.

 

“Lord Varys,” Ned called after him. “I... am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you.”

 

Varys smiled, with a glint in his eye. “This is a dangerous game we play, I will help you as best I can. For this is a game I fully intend to win.”

 

 

****************************************************************************************************

 

 

“It’s the Hand’s tourney that’s the cause of all the trouble, my lords,” the Commander of the City Watch complained to the king’s council.

 

“The king’s tourney,” Ned corrected, wincing. “I assure you, the Hand wants no part of it.”

 

“Call it what you will, my lord. Knights have been arriving from all over the realm, each of them bringing a small army. This cursed heat had half the city in a fever to start, and now with all these visitors... Last night we had a drowning, a tavern riot, three knife fights, a rape, robberies beyond count, and a drunken horse race down the Street of the Sisters. The night before a woman’s head was found in the Great Sept, floating in the rainbow pool. No one seems to know how it got there or who it belongs to.”

 

“How dreadful,” Varys said with a shudder.

 

Lord Renly Baratheon was less sympathetic. “If you cannot keep the king’s peace, Janos, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can.”

 

Stout, jowly Janos Slynt puffed himself up like an angry frog, his bald pate reddening. “Aegon the Dragon himself could not keep the peace, Lord Renly. I need more men.”

 

“How many?” Ned asked, leaning forward. As ever, Robert had not troubled himself to attend the council session, so it fell to his Hand to speak for him.

 

“As many as can be gotten, Lord Hand.”

 

“Hire fifty new men,” Ned told him. “Lady Yennefer will see that you get the coin.” After waiting an appropriate amount of time, Ned had appointed Yennefer to the Small Council as the realms Master of Coin.

 

Pycelle had voiced his opposition to a woman being given such a high rank, lowering Ned’s opinion of the man greatly. In a city full of enemies and backstabbers, Ned felt at ease to have at least one council member he trusted completely.

 

Yennefer was also one of the smartest people he knew, if anyone would be able to sort through the muddle of Littlefinger’s thousand accounts, it would be her.

 

“It won’t be easy, but I shall manage.” Yennefer said, as always dressed immaculately in black and white.

 

“Good.” Ned turned back to Janos Slynt. “I will also give you another fifty good swords from my own household guard, to serve with the Watch until the crowds have left.”

 

“All thanks, Lord Hand,” Slynt said, bowing. “I promise you, they shall be put to good use.”

 

When the Commander had taken his leave, Ned turned to the rest of the council. “The sooner this folly is done with, the better I shall like it.” As if the expense and trouble were not irksome enough, all and sundry insisted on salting Ned’s wound by calling it “the Hand’s tourney,” as if he were the cause of it. And Robert honestly seemed to think he should feel honored!

 

“The realm prospers from such events, my prince,” Grand Maester Pycelle said. “They bring the great the chance of glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes.”

 

“And put coins in many a pocket,” Yennefer added. “Perhaps we should take ownership of every brothel in the city. We’d make back all the crowns debts in a week.”

 

Lord Renly laughed. “We’re fortunate my brother Stannis is not with us. Once he proposed to outlaw brothels? The king asked him if perhaps he’d like to outlaw eating, shitting, and breathing while he was at it. If truth be told, I ofttimes wonder how Stannis ever got that ugly daughter of his. He goes to his marriage bed like a man marching to a battleeld, with a grim look in his eyes and a determination to do his duty.”

 

Ned had not joined the laughter. “I wonder about your brother Stannis as well. I wonder when he intends to end his visit to Dragonstone and resume his seat on this council.”

 

“No doubt as soon as we’ve scourged all those whores into the sea,” Renly replied, provoking more laughter.

 

“I have heard quite enough about whores for one day,” Ned said, rising. “Until the morrow.”

 

Harwin had the door when Ned returned to the Tower of the Hand. “Summon Harper to my chambers and tell your father to saddle my horse,” Ned told him, too brusquely.

 

“As you say, my prince.”

 

The Red Keep and the “Hand’s tourney” were chaffing him raw, Ned reflected as he climbed. He yearned for the comfort of his wives, for the sounds of his children crossing swords in the practice yard, for the cool days and cold nights of the north.

 

In his chambers he stripped o his council silks and sat for a moment with the book while he waited for Harper to arrive. The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children, by Grand Maester Malleon. Pycelle had spoken truly; it made for ponderous reading. Yet Jon Arryn had asked for it, and Ned felt certain he had reasons. There was something here, some truth buried in these brittle yellow pages, if only he could see it. But what? The tome was over a century old. Scarcely a man now alive had yet been born when Malleon had compiled his dusty lists of weddings, births, and deaths.

 

He opened to the section on House Lannister once more, and turned the pages slowly, hoping against hope that something would leap out at him.

 

A sharp rap on the door heralded Harper and the Chosen Men. Ned closed Malleon’s tome and bid him enter. “I’ve promised the City Watch fifty of my guard until the tourney is done,” he told him. “I rely on you to make the choice. Give Alyn the command, and make certain the men understand that they are needed to stop fights, not start them.” Rising, Ned opened a cedar chest and removed a light linen undertunic. “Did you find the stableboy?”

 

“The watchman, my lord,” Harper said. “He vows he’ll never touch another horse.”

 

“What did he have to say?”

 

“He claims he knew Lord Arryn well. Fast friends, they were.” Harper snorted. “The Hand always gave the lads a copper on their name days, he says. Had a way with horses. Never rode his mounts too hard, and brought them carrots and apples, so they were always pleased to see him.”

 

“Carrots and apples,” Ned repeated. It sounded as if this boy would be even less use than the others. And he was the last of the four Varys had turned up. Harper and the Chosen Men had spoken to each of them in turn.

 

Ser Hugh had been brusque and uninformative, and arrogant as only a new-made knight can be. If the Hand wished to talk to him, he should be pleased to receive him, but he would not be questioned by a mere Chosen Man... even if said Chosen Man was ten years older and a hundred times the swordsman.

 

The serving girl had at least been pleasant, at least according to Perkins, so pleasant that Hagman had found them sharing a bed the next day. It was pretty easy to imagine why she had been hastily married to a groom. She said Lord Jon had been reading more than was good for him, that he was troubled and melancholy over his young son’s frailty, and gruff with his lady wife.

 

The potboy, now cordwainer, had never exchanged so much as a word with Lord Jon, but he was full of oddments of kitchen gossip: The lord had been quarreling with the king, the lord only picked at his food, the lord was sending his boy to be fostered on Dragonstone, the lord had taken a great interest in the breeding of hunting hounds, the lord had visited a master armorer to commission a new suit of plate, wrought all in pale silver with a blue jasper falcon and a mother-of-pearl moon on the breast. The king’s own brother had gone with him to help choose the design, the potboy said. No, not Lord Renly, the other one, Lord Stannis.

 

“Did our watchman recall anything else of note?”

 

“The lad swears Lord Jon was as strong as a man half his age. Often went riding with Lord Stannis, he says.”

 

Stannis again, Ned thought. He found that curious. Jon Arryn and he had been cordial, but never friendly. And while Robert had been riding north to Winterfell, Stannis had removed himself to Dragonstone. As yet, he had given no word as to when he might return.

 

“Where did they go on these rides?” Ned asked.

 

“The boy says that they visited a brothel.” Cooper chuckled.

 

“A brothel?” Ned said. “The Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King visited a brothel with Stannis Baratheon?”

 

He shook his head, incredulous, wondering what Lord Renly would make of this tidbit. Robert’s lusts were the subject of ribald drinking songs throughout the realm, but Stannis was a different sort of man; a bare year younger than the king, yet utterly unlike him, stern, humorless, unforgiving, grim in his sense of duty.

 

“The boy insists it’s true.” Harper stated. “The Hand took three guardsmen with him, and the boy says they were joking of it when he took their horses afterward.”

 

“Which brothel?” Ned asked.

 

“The boy did not know. The guards would.”

 

“A pity Lysa carried them off to the Vale,” Ned said dryly. “The gods are doing their best to vex us. Lady Lysa, Maester Colemon, Lord Stannis... Everyone who might actually know the truth of what happened to Jon Arryn is a thousand leagues away.”

 

“Why is that?” Harris pondered. “None of this feels like it was by chance… Like but sheep, that someone’s trying to heard down a certain lane…”

 

“You’ve been reading too much.” Cooper chuckled.

 

“Will you summon Lord Stannis back from Dragonstone?” Perkins asked Ned.

 

“Not yet,” Ned said. “Not until I have a better notion of what this is all about and where he stands.” Harris’s words nagged at him. Why did Stannis leave? Had he played some part in Jon Arryn’s murder? Or was he afraid? Ned found it hard to imagine what could frighten Stannis Baratheon. Was he being herded? If so, to what end? And by whom?

 

“Bring me my doublet, if you would. The grey, with the direwolf sigil. I want this armorer to know who I am. It might make him more forthcoming.”

 

Harper went to the wardrobe. “Lord Renly is brother to Lord Stannis as well as the king.”

 

“Yet it seems that he was not invited on these rides.” Ned was not sure what to make of Renly, with all his friendly ways and easy smiles. A few days past, he had taken Ned aside to show him an exquisite rose gold locklet. Inside was a miniature painted in the vivid Myrish style, of a lovely girl with doe’s eyes and a cascade of soft brown hair. Renly had seemed anxious to know if the girl reminded him of anyone, and when Ned had no answer but a shrug, he had seemed disappointed. The maid was Loras Tyrell’s sister Margaery, he’d confessed, but there were those who said she looked like Lyanna. “No,” Ned had told him, bemused. Could it be that Lord Renly, who looked so like a young Robert, had conceived a passion for a girl he fancied to be a young Lyanna? That struck him as more than passing queer.

 

Harper held out the doublet, and Ned slid his hands through the armholes. “Perhaps Lord Stannis will return for Robert’s tourney,” he said as Harper laced the garment up the back.

 

“That’d be a stroke of fortune.” Hagman said.

 

Ned summoned Ice to his hand and buckled the scabbard to his belt. “In other words, not bloody likely.” His smile was grim.

 

Harper draped Ned’s cloak across his shoulders and clasped it at the throat with the Hand’s chain. “The armorer lives above his shop, in a large house at the top of the Street of Steel. Alyn knows the way, my prince.”

 

Ned nodded. “The gods help this potboy if he’s sent me off chasing after shadows.” It was a slim enough lead, but the Jon Arryn that Ned had known was not one to wear jeweled and silvered plate. Steel was steel; it was meant for protection, not ornament. He might have changed his views, to be sure. He would scarcely have been the first man who came to look on things dierently after a few years at court... but the change was marked enough to make Ned wonder.

 

“Is there any other service we might perform?” Harris asked.

 

“I suppose you’d best begin visiting whorehouses.”

 

“Hard duty, but someone has to do it.” Cooper grinned, it certainly seemed to make the rest of the men happy. “The rest o’ the men will be glad to help. Porther has made a fair start already.”

 

“You’re with me Harper.” Ned said as he left the room, with the Chosen Men following him.

 

“Hard luck, Harps.” Hagman laughed.

 

“Ah well,” Harper sighed. “Ramona would’ve had my balls on a skewer if she found out anyway.”

 

Ned’s favorite horse was saddled and waiting in the yard. Harper and Jacks fell in beside him as he rode through the yard. They mustn’t have been too comfortable in their armour, yet they said no word of complaint. As Ned passed beneath the King’s Gate into the stink of the city, his grey and white cloak streaming from his shoulders, he saw eyes everywhere and kicked his mount into a trot. His guard followed.

 

From the road out of the King’s Gate, Ned could see the Dragonpit, sitting atop the Hill of Rhaenys, wife of Torrhen Stark. He had gone to see Stormbreaker a few days ago. Seeing the once mighty dragon in such a frail state saddened him greatly. It almost reminded him of Cannibal, Arys’s dragon and how pitiful it had seemed when Snowsong killed it.

 

Robert’s dragon had perked up when he had seen Snowsong again, managing to rise on his bony legs to greet his old mate. Snowsong had taken up residence right next to Stormbreaker in his cubicle of the Dragonpit, mostly refusing to leave his side.

 

Multiple times, the dragon keepers had needed to call on Ned to stop her from keeping them away as they tried to feed Stormbreaker his helping of meat. She did not understand that they were trying to help him. Only when Ned had arrived, with a cart of fresh fish, did Snowsong let anyone near Stormbreaker.

 

Ned turned off the square where the Street of Steel began and followed its winding path up a long hill, past blacksmiths working at open forges, freeriders haggling over mail shirts, and grizzled ironmongers selling old blades and razors from their wagons.

 

The farther they climbed, the larger the buildings grew. The man they wanted was all the way at the top of the hill, in a huge house of timber and plaster whose upper stories loomed over the narrow street. The double doors showed a hunting scene carved in ebony and weirwood. A pair of stone knights stood sentry at the entrance, armored in fanciful suits of polished red steel that transformed them into grin and unicorn. Ned left his horse with Jacks and shouldered his way inside.

 

The slim young serving girl took quick note of Ned’s chain and the sigil on his doublet, and the master came hurrying out, all smiles and bows.

 

“Wine for the King’s Hand,” he told the girl, gesturing Ned to a couch. “I am Tobho Mott, my lord, please, please, put yourself at ease.” He wore a black velvet coat with hammers embroidered on the sleeves in silver thread. Around his neck was a heavy silver chain and a sapphire as large as a pigeon’s egg. “If you are in need of new arms for the Hand’s tourney, you have come to the right shop.”

Ned did not bother to correct him. “My work is costly, and I make no apologies for that, my lord,” he said as he lled two matching silver goblets. “You will not find craftsmanship equal to mine anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, I promise you. Any village smith can hammer out a shirt of mail; my work is art.” Ned sipped his wine and let the man go on. “The direwolf is the sigil of House Stark, is it not? I could fashion a direwolf helm so real that children will run from you in the street,” he vowed.

 

Ned smiled. “Did you make a falcon helm for Lord Arryn?”

 

Tobho Mott paused a long moment and set aside his wine. “The Hand did call upon me, with Lord Stannis. I regret to say, they did not honor me with their patronage.” Ned looked at the man evenly, saying nothing, waiting. He had found over the years that silence sometimes yielded more than questions. And so it was this time. “They asked to see the boy,” the armorer said, “so I took them back to the forge.”

 

“The boy,” Ned echoed. He had no notion who the boy might be. “I should like to see the boy as well.”

 

Tobho Mott gave him a cool, careful look. “As you wish, my lord,” he said with no trace of his former friendliness. He led Ned out a rear door and across a narrow yard, back to the cavernous stone barn where the work was done. When the armorer opened the door, the blast of hot air that came through made Ned feel as though he were walking into a dragon’s mouth. Inside, a forge blazed in each corner, and the air stank of smoke and sulfur. Journeymen armorers glanced up from their hammers and tongs just long enough to wipe the sweat from their brows, while bare- chested apprentice boys worked the bellows.

 

The master called over a tall lad a little older than Arya, his arms and chest corded with muscle. “This is Lord Stark, the new Hand of the King,” he told him as the boy looked at Ned through sullen blue eyes and pushed back sweat-soaked hair with his ngers. Thick hair, shaggy and unkempt and black as ink. The shadow of a new beard darkened his jaw. “This is Gendry. Strong for his age, and he works hard. Show the Hand that helmet you made, lad.” Almost shyly, the boy led them to his bench, and a steel helm shaped like a bull’s head, with two great curving horns.

 

Ned turned the helm over in his hands. It was raw steel, unpolished but expertly shaped. “This is fine work. I would be pleased if you would let me buy it.”

 

The boy snatched it out of his hands. “It’s not for sale.”

 

Tobho Mott looked horror-struck. “Boy, this is the King’s Hand. If his lordship wants this helm, make him a gift of it. He honors you by asking.”

 

“I made it for me,” the boy said stubbornly.

 

“A hundred pardons, my lord,” his master said hurriedly to Ned. “The boy is crude as new steel, and like new steel would profit from some beating. That helm is journeyman’s work at best. Forgive him and I promise I will craft you a helm like none you have ever seen.”

 

“He’s done nothing that requires my forgiveness. Gendry, when Lord Arryn came to see you, what did you talk about?”

 

“He asked me questions is all, m’lord.”

 

“What sort of questions?”

 

The boy shrugged. “How was I, and was I well treated, and if I liked the work, and stuff about my mother. Who she was and what she looked like and all.”

 

“What did you tell him?” Ned asked.

 

The boy shoved a fresh fall of black hair o his forehead. “She died when I was little. She had yellow hair, and sometimes she used to sing to me, I remember. She worked in an alehouse.”

 

“Did Lord Stannis question you as well?”

 

“The bald one? No, not him. He never said no word, just glared at me, like I was some raper who done for his daughter.”

 

“Mind your filthy tongue,” the master said. “This is the King’s own Hand.” The boy lowered his eyes. “A smart boy, but stubborn. That helm... the others call him bullheaded, so he threw it in their teeth.”

 

Ned touched the boy’s head, moving the thick black hair. “Look at me, Gendry.” The apprentice lifted his face. Ned studied the shape of his jaw, the eyes like blue ice. Yes, he thought, I see it . “Go back to your work, lad. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He walked back to the house with the master. “Who paid the boy’s apprentice fee?” he asked lightly.

 

Mott looked fretful. “You saw the boy. Such a strong boy. Those hands of his, those hands were made for hammers. He had such promise, I took him on without a fee.”

 

“The truth now,” Ned urged. “The streets are full of strong boys. The day you take on an apprentice without a fee will be the day the Wall comes down. Who paid for him?”

 

“A lord,” the master said reluctantly. “He gave no name, and wore no sigil on his coat. He paid in gold, twice the customary sum, and said he was paying once for the boy, and once for my silence.”

 

“Describe him.”

 

“He was stout, round of shoulder, not so tall as you. Brown beard, but there was a bit of red in it, I’ll swear. He wore a rich cloak, that I do remember, heavy purple velvet worked with silver threads, but the hood shadowed his face and I never did see him clear.” He hesitated a moment. “My lord, I want no trouble.”

 

“None of us wants trouble, but I fear these are troubled times, Master Mott,” Ned said. “You know who the boy is.”

 

“I am only an armorer, my lord. I know what I’m told.”

 

“You know who the boy is,” Ned repeated patiently. “That is not a question.”

 

“The boy is my apprentice,” the master said. He looked Ned in the eye, stubborn as old iron. “Who he was before he came to me, that’s none of my concern.”

 

Ned nodded. He decided that he liked Tobho Mott, master armorer. “If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior. Until then, you have my thanks, Master Mott, and my promise. Should I ever want a helm to frighten children, this will be the first place I visit.”

 

His guard was waiting outside with the horses. “Did you find anything?” Harper asked as Ned mounted up.

 

“I did,” Ned told him, wondering. What had Jon Arryn wanted with a king’s bastard, and why was it worth his life?

 

As Ned was was riding back to the Red Keep, thinking on what he had learned, he heard a column of riders came up the street behind them, Ned was happy to let them pass until he heard a voice calling out his name. Turning around, Ned saw Oberyn Martell riding up to him, a horseman beside him flying the Martell banner high, and thoughts of Jon Arryn and plots faded.

 

“Prince Oberyn.” He greeted his good-brother, hoping that he wasn’t aware what Ned and Tyene had done together in Winterfell.

 

“It’s been too long,” Oberyn rode up beside him. It had been a number of years since Ned had seen him last. For one of Elia’s namedays, he had taken her, Cat and Ash to Dorne, where they’d gotten up to all kinds of debauchery with Mellario and Ellaria Sand. “How are my sister and her daughter?”

 

“They were well, last I heard.” Ned decided not to tell Oberyn the whole truth, not while in the view of so many. “Are you here for the tourney?”

 

“Your tourney?” Ned decided not to correct him. “Of course I am. The rest of the family have also come to watch and take part.” Oberyn informed him.

 

“Truly?”

 

“Yes, most of them have never seen the capital before, and of course, they wanted to see you.” Oberyn laughed. “They’re mostly in a carriage a ways further back.”

 

“How many of them are here?”

 

“I’d say all of them, save for Elia and Rhaenys.” Oberyn answered him. “Though, I will say there are a fair few who are eager to see you.” The Dornish prince laughed.

 

Ned stilled for a moment, thinking of just how many Martell women were in King’s Landing with him at that moment, remembering Tyene’s words. If she was telling the truth, the lot of them would eat him alive.

 

Though, Ned thought as he settled into his saddle, that didn’t sound like a bad thing.

Notes:

And that’s chapter 13!

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Chapter 19: Chapter 14

It took some time for the Martell carriage to arrive at the courtyard of the Red Keep. Thoughts of Robert’s bastards had been put aside for the time being. Ned had decided to stay with Oberyn and greet the Martells personally, in his capacity as Hand of the King and as a friend to house Martell.

 

Friend…

 

Few friends did together when Ned had done with multiple women from that house, women that were currently stepping out of the two storied carriage and into the yard.

 

First came Mellario, as buxom and beautiful as ever. After the Martell matriarch came a woman Ned barely recognised as Arianne Martell, Mellario’s daughter. She had been a few years younger last time Ned had met her. She had grown into one of the most beautiful women Ned had ever seen. It was clear that Arianne had taken after her mother in shape, something made all too apparent by the - what could charitably described as - dress she was wearing.

 

Following Arianne came Ellaria Sand, paramour to Oberyn, a beautiful woman Ned had enjoyed many times on his visits to Dorne. The Sand Snakes stepped out of the carriage after their father’s lover, each more beautiful than the last. Obara was the oldest and stood by far the tallest, with a body that had clearly been honed by the training yard. Then there was Nymeria, tall, slim and dark. She smirked when she laid eyes on Ned, for reasons he did not know.

 

Then came a sight that made Ned’s heart beat faster in his chest. Tyene sauntered down the carriage steps, seemingly taking care to make sure her breasts bounced heavily with every step. Flashing Ned a wide grin, she waved to him and took her place beside her sisters. Then a woman with darker skin than the rest walked out of the carriage, Sarella, Ned knew her to be. Oberyn had fathered her on some Summer Islander ship’s captain, he had told Ned.

 

The final woman was a sight that nearly made Ned’s breath catch in his throat as he was transported back to Harrenhall all those years ago. The last of the women was nearly identical to a younger Elia.

 

“My oldest daughter with Ellaria, Elia Sand.” Oberyn informed Ned, standing beside him. Ned gave a small cough, clearly his surprise had not gone unnoticed.

 

“The resemblance is almost uncanny.” Ned responded. “I don’t think I ever met her when when I visited Dorne.”

 

“No, Mellario kept you busy enough.” Oberyn chuckled. “She passed her eight-and-tenth nameday three moons ago and wanted to see the capital with us.”

 

“It’s wonderful to see you, old friend.” Doran called out to Ned as he was rolled down a small ramp from the carriage by Areo Hotah.

 

“As Hand of the king, I welcome you to King’s Landing.” Ned offered as he and Oberyn walked to Doran and Mellario. “We’re very glad to have you here.”

 

“And we are exceedingly grateful that you are here to… have… us…” Mellario purred, looking at Ned like he was a slab of meat. “Perhaps the Hand can show us to our chambers?” She turned to Doran.

 

Gods woman, you’re insatiable.

 

“A splendid idea.” Doran smiled. “Oberyn, make sure everyone is settled while the Hand and I talk.” Oberyn nodded, then turned to the Martell men that had come with them.

 

“If you’ll follow me then.” Ned indicated to the entrance to the Red Keep. Areo began to push Doran’s chair as Mellario took Ned’s arm, pressing herself into him.

 

“We look forward to seeing more of you, Prince Stark!” Ned heard Tyene call after them as they entered the keep, laughing.

 

“I must say I really am glad to have some friends in the capital.” Ned reiterated as they walked through the corridors of the Red Keep together.

 

“You haven’t found any at court?” Doran asked.

 

“Fools and schemers are plentiful in these lands, but few friends. Oh, they smile and bow when I can see them, but what do they do when my back is turned, I wonder? Foes and false-friends surround me, I fear.”

 

“Then let us turn to happier topics.” Mellario said, Ned felt her hand squeezing his as they walked arm-in-arm.

 

“Yes,” Ned smiled, now was probably as good a time as any. “I do not know if Elia has written to you of this,” he began, “but she has fallen pregnant, with my child.” Mellario stopped walking and Areo stopped wheeling Doran, both Martells looking at him, both clearly surprised by the news. “We were married quickly after she informed me.” Ned added. After a pause, Doran gave him a soft smile and held out his hand. Ned took it gladly.

 

“Then congratulations are in order, brother.” Doran smiled up at him. “I remember her saying in her letters years ago, that she did not want another child. Not after Aegon…” The Dornish prince gazed off into the middle distance for a few moments. “You make my sister happy. That’s all I can ever ask.” He finally said.

 

“It’s good the woman finally came to her senses and joined your little marriage group officially.” Mellario smiled, pulling Ned into a hug. “Elia deserves the world, but you are more than enough.”

 

Areo gave Ned a stoic nod, which he took to mean he approved of the news as well.

 

“Talking of babes,” Ned continued, taking a handful of Mellario’s ample arse. “How are the children?” He asked Mellario.

 

“They’re both doing wonderfully.” She beamed with delight, her smile as bright as the sun on the Martell banner. “Lyanna has taken to taming giant snakes and scorpions, having them follow her around. Little Ned is being taught the water magics of the Rhoynar…”

 

For the rest of the journey to their bedchambers, they talked of Ned and Mellario’s two children. Ned was happy to hear they they were well loved and cared for. The only Martells who knew that they were Ned’s children were Doran, Mellario, Areo and Oberyn. It was better that way. It would be dangerous for it to be publicly known that the Princess of Dorne had birthed a number of Ned’s bastards. He did not mention Aegon, he did not think they knew who truly fathered him. It was Elia’s secret to tell.

 

“Now…” Mellario said as the group walked through the doors to the bedchamber Doran and Mellario would be using. “It as been too many years, my dear Ned.” Mellario began as she stripped off her thin dress in one smooth motion, revealing her immaculate, nude form. “We need to fuck.”

 

“Gods, you can be direct sometimes.” Doran laughed as Areo wheeled him off to the side, so he would get a good view.

 

“One of the reasons you fell in love with me.” Mellario answered her husband, grinning as she bounced on the balls of her feet, causing her magnificent curves to jiggle under Ned’s gaze.

 

“One of many, I expect.” Ned intoned, his eyes resting on Mellario’s massive breasts. They had grown even larger than the last time he had seen them. Only to be expected, as she had birthed him another child in that time.

 

Noticing Ned’s eye-line, Mellario laughed, cupping her breasts. “Yes, all men love my breasts.” She laughed. “You’ve no idea how many men I’ve reduced to blabbering fools with only a low-cut gown.”

 

“Oh, how forgetful of us.” Doran said suddenly. “We’ve a gift for you, Ned.” Areo brought out a medium sized wooden box from a compartment in Doran’s wheelchair, handing it to Ned. Looking inside, Ned found a leather bull-whip with some runes carved into the wooden handle.

 

“It’s been enchanted to never leave a mark.” Mellario bit her lip as she grinned.

 

“You want me to use it on you?” Ned was astounded. The most he had ever used on his women were paddles. A whip would tear the flesh off a back easily. Something Ned would never do to his lovers.

 

“Areo’s flogged me many times with this whip and left no marks at all.” Mellario showed Ned her back. She was right, it was flawless, showing no scars that a whip would leave.

 

“Will it not hurt?”

 

“There can be pleasure found in pain, my dear.” Mellario purred.

 

Using two lengths of silk that were also rolled up in the box, Ned fastened Mellario’s wrists to two posts of the room’s large bed. Stepping back to marvel at the woman in front of him, Ned took in Mellario’s beauty.

 

Her back was arched, sticking her massive arse out, begging him to use it. She was completely open to him, her flawless, dark skin fully uncovered to his eyes. Mellario wiggled her hips from side-to-side, shaking her ample behind for Ned’s enjoyment.

 

With the whip in hand, Ned walked to the other side of the room, glancing at Doran, asking for approval. Doran gave a nod in response, clearly eagerly anticipating the show. Ned unfurled the whip, raising his arm above his head, he brought it down with and almost deafening Crack!

 

And… missed Mellario entirely.

 

“I didn’t even feel that one.” Mellario giggled as Ned and Doran chuckled, even the stoic Areo Hotah smirked. “I had hoped to be flogged sometime today, my-AHHHH!”

 

Ned interrupted Mellario by cracking the whip again, this time it found it’s mark, catching Mellario on her left side. Mellario’s muscles tensed as she gasped and shook. Ned was amazed, she was completely unmarked by the whip.

 

“Elia’s going to love this.” Ned chuckled as he whipped Mellario again. And Again. And Again. Before long she was shaking and wailing, her pleasure clear by her weeping cunt. “How does it feel to see another man flog your wife?” Ned called to Doran as the whip kissed Mellario’s arse-cheek, making it ripple delightfully.

 

“Glad she’s getting what she deserves.” Doran laughed.

 

“What she needs!” A quivering Mellario corrected him.

 

Another strike caused her legs to give out, her head dropped as her legs lost all strength, the bindings were the only things keeping her up. Ned kept whipping her, eliciting moans and whines from the married Norvossi princess, a puddle of her essence forming beneath her.

 

“I think she’s ready now.” Ned relented. Dropping the whip to the ground, Ned walked over and undid Mellario’s bindings. She fell to the floor at the foot of the bed, naked and shivering in pleasure.

 

“Do I please you, my Prince” she asked, brushing her dark curls out of her face.

 

“You certainly do.” Ned said, drinking her flawless body in. 

 

He lifted her back onto the bed, running his hands up and down her curvy form. Ned was all too aware of Mellario’s buxom body, taking her massive, round breasts in his hands. Many times Ned had used her body for his pleasure. He was about to do so again. Then an idea crossed his mind.

 

“I recall you telling me of an idea you had a few years ago.” Ned teased, pinching her dark, pierced nipples, making Mellario squirm. 

 

“About your wolf form?” Mellario lit up. Her hands went to the bindings of his breeches, untying them quickly. “Have you reconsidered?” She looked up at him with shining eyes as she pulled his breeches down, freeing his hard cock.

 

“I’ll show you.” Ned said as he stepped away from Mellario, removing the rest of his clothes.

 

It took a great deal of concentration, but a powerful skinchanger was able to halt their transformation when they chose to. These were called ‘Hybrid-forms’. Ned was going to change between his ‘Man form’ and his ‘Man-Wolf form’. In essence, the transformation into ‘Man-Wolf’ would not be completed.

 

Instead of becoming a Wolf in the shape of a man, Ned would retain a more-manlike form. He would grow to eight feet tall and become much stronger, growing more hair than he had before, but his body would change no more than that. He would keep a man’s body and a man’s mind.

 

Mellario gasped as Ned began to change. He fell to one knee as he felt his body expanding and contracting, his senses becoming even more acute than they already were. Over they years, as Ned became much more practiced at transforming, it became a much less painful affair.

 

Eventually, Ned’s hybrid-transformation was complete and he stood up, head nearly hitting the chandelier hanging above him.

 

“Gods…” Mellario starred slack-jawed at him, her eyes resting on his cock, that had grown with the rest of him. “You’re going to utterly destroy me.” She giggled gleefully. “It’s like a third leg!”

 

“I take it, you approve?” Ned smiled down at her. Being only two inches over five feet tall, Ned’s eight foot frame towered over Mellario. Her head was at the same height as Ned’s stomach.

 

“I certainly do!” Mellario beamed as she bent over slightly to kiss the base of Ned’s cock. “There’s no chance of this fitting in my mouth though. Areo, I’ll need the little green vial.” The bodyguard handed Mellario a vial that she immediately drank from. “A potion.” She explained to Ned. “It’ll make my cunt more durable and… Accommodating… to particularly large intruders.”

 

“That’ll be useful.” Ned said. “Bed. Hands and knees.”

 

“My heart belongs to my husband, but the rest of me is yours for the taking.” Mellario giggled, then complied with his order, Ned admired the seductive sway of her wide hips as she strode to the bed and crawled into position.

 

She was a sight to make men go weak. The body of a pleasure goddess on all fours begging for her lover to claim her, as her husband watched on. Ned did not need to get on the bed, only to bend down slightly and his cock was in line with her cunt.

 

Ned wasted no time in thrusting his hard cock into Mellario’s tight, wet embrace. She climaxed instantly. Shaking and shuddering as Ned eased deeper into her sheath. Mellario was one of the most seductive women Ned had ever seen, it had been years since he had the pleasure of fucking her.

 

Savouring the sensations and sounds of Mellario wailing, Ned placed his enlarged hands on Mellario’s hips and pulled her back onto him. He did not spare a thought to Mellario, nor Doran and Areo, he just began to thrust away at Mellario’s cunt, filling her completely. Ned enjoyed the euphoric feeling of driving his cock in and out of his married whore.

 

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me!” Mellario wailed. “Claim me! BREED YOUR WHORE!!”

 

Ned laughed as she begged him to breed her in front of her husband. Few words came of Mellario’s incoherent moans as she tried to push herself back onto him. But she had lost all strength some time ago, Ned was the only thing holding her up now. Even as he ploughed her to within an inch of her life.

 

Ned gave her arse a hard spank, grinning at the way her supple dark skin jiggled at the impact, he could cover her massive arse-cheeks with his hands now. 

 

Mellario was seductive and powerful.

 

She was a princess of a great kingdom.

 

Yet in Ned’s hands, she behaved like a cheap, wanton whore.

 

Mellario may have been married to Doran, but she belonged to Ned. He knew it, she knew it and Doran knew it. She was his to fuck and his to breed.

 

“Who do you belong to?” Ned thundered as he clapped his hand down on Mellario’s fleshy arse again.

 

“You!” Mellario wailed. “I’m yours! Give me your seed! I want another bastard!”

 

Ned growled like a wolf. The thought of giving Mellario another bastard to raise as Doran’s child filled him with lust as he continued to fuck her curvy form.

 

Ned’s hands snaked along Mellario’s sides, one gripping tightly around Mellario’s  throat, the other taking a firm grasp of her right breast. She gasped in surprise when Ned pulled her back off the bed.

 

Ned’s chest was pressed to Mellario’s back as he straightened up, lifting Mellario with him as if she weighed nothing. Her feet dangled off the floor, the only thing holding her up was Ned’s arms and hips as he relentlessly pounded into her. Mellario never complained about the rough treatment though, in fact, she demanded it.

 

“FUCK ME!” She gasped breathlessly as Ned choked her, holding her in the air like a toy.

 

Mellario’s eyes crossed as Ned continued to slam into her, the wet claps of their hips echoing across the room as Ned pillaged Mellario’s womb. Words began to fail her. Under Ned’s unending assault, Mellario was reduced to weak, high pitched moans and inane babble.

 

From the tight, clenching felling around his cock, along with Mellario’s shaking, Ned guessed she climaxed again. Mellario was one of the most lusty, wanton, lewd women he had ever met. There was a reason she was one of his favourite whores. She had as much passion and fire as anyone could have, yet that still didn’t help her in the face of Ned’s stamina.

 

There were only a few women Ned would not hold back for when he took them to bed. His wives were among them. Mellario was also one of their number. There was no such thing as too much, for her. She wanted him, hard and savage.

 

When he struck her, she begged for more. When he seeded her, she begged for his babe. She held nothing but purest desire for Ned, just as he did for her. Squeezing Mellario’s massive breast in his enlarged hand, Ned bounced the short woman up and down his shaft.

 

Up and down she went, legs and arms flopping back and forth, hefty breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts. She always knew how to wake the beast inside him. They would use each other until they were both utterly spent, then begin again.

 

She was his breeding bitch and he was her stud.

 

He fucked her harder than any other man could, even more than many men together. Mellario had demanded another child from him, and he was going to give it to her. Spending their nights fucking her over any surface they could find, filling her with his seed time and again.

 

Ned turned away from the bed and towards Doran, showing him what he was doing to his wife, how much she enjoyed it.

 

“This is what you wanted.” Ned growled. “Your wife is my whore.”

 

“YES! YES! I’M YOUR WHORE!!!” Mellario screamed as she climaxed on his cock again. She was begging him to feed her his seed, to give her his bastard. She was perhaps his most enthusiastic lover, other than Cat.

 

Memories of Mellario fucking him with his wives crossed Ned’s mind. Thoughts of Cat and Mellario’s massive breasts wrapped around his cock. They made him start fucking Mellario with newfound vigour.

 

It was another half-hour before Ned filled Mellario with his seed as he roared in triumph. Mellario’s unconscious face was pressed against Doran’s as Ned inseminated her womb. A torrent of his seed gushed into her deepest sanctum as Ned pulled Mellario up by her hair and slapped her awake.

 

“Fuck me…” she whimpered meekly, opening her bleary eyes. “Give me your seed… I want another babe...”

 

Keeping fully sheathed inside Mellario, plugging her cunt with his cock, Ned glanced in the door’s direction when he thought he heard a noise. He could see a shadow behind the door, and someone looking through the keyhole.

 

Breathing deeply through his nose, Ned found out who it was instantly. Arianne, he thought, from the smell of it, she had clearly been pleasuring herself too. It seemed Tyene’s words were true, the minx did want into his bed. It didn’t seem like she knew Ned had realised she was there.

 

Ned resolved to give both Martells a show. He ended up fucking Mellario for the rest of the day.

 

 

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As more arrivals came from far and wide, the day came for the tourney to begin. Ned, Arya and Sansa flew to the tourney grounds on dragon-back, giving the common folk a show as they sailed through the air, as Renly and Loras Tyrell had done with their dragons earlier. And as Joffrey and the Queen were likely to do after them. This was the most dragonriders King’s Landing had hosted for some time. There was Ned, Sansa, Renly, the Tyrell sons, Joffrey and Cersei.

 

Cersei had demanded one of the Targaryen dragon eggs that Tywin’s forces had captured during the sack of King’s Landing. That egg had hatched into a green and gold dragon, said by some to be the most beautiful dragon in the realm. Stormbreaker had been too weak to fly for a long time, so Ned doubted Robert considered himself a dragonrider anymore. Arya was not yet old enough for her to fly on her own, so she rode with Ned on Snowsong, with Sansa flying on Sunbeam, her own red and orange dragon.

 

Beyond the city walls, hundreds of pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. Looking at all the structures that had been erected on the grounds, Ned could easily see why the realm was in deep debt. At least it made for a pretty sight.

 

Ned hadn’t been to many tournaments in his life, thoughts of Harrenhal swam up from the depths of his memory. Unfortunately, not the happy ones of his liaisons with Minisa, then Ash and Elia. But of Lyanna and Rhaegar, filled with guilt and regret.

 

I should have let Robert and Brandon kill him when I had the chance.

 

“Do you think you’ll win the tourney, Father?” Arya shouted over the wind as they brought their dragons down to land in the open area near their pavilion. Tall banners of white and grey marked their tents with Direwolves on every flag.

 

Ned waited for the jolt of Snowsong hitting the ground before he responded. “I suppose I’ve as much of a chance to win as any.”

 

“Not after I knock you into the dirt, Stark.” Arthur chuckled as he strolled out of the pavilion, wearing his glowing white armour.

 

“I’ve seen father do the same to you more than enough times back home.” Sansa said as she hopped off Sunbeam and Ned helped Arya climb down from Snowsong’s saddle.

 

“Come now, we all know I’m the one who’s going to win the tourney.” Beric Stark loudly crunched on an apple as he sauntered up to them. “This old Witcher’s got more experience than the two of you combined. And in my book, experience outranks everything.”

 

“I want to ride in the tourney.” Arya piped up, clearly her lessons with Syrio had made her want to use her sword.

 

“Perhaps one day, little pup.” Beric smiled down at her. “But now, you must change, unless you mean to attend the tourney in your riding leathers?”

 

“Of course not, uncle.” Sansa seemed almost offended at the suggestion that she would attend a social gathering in anything less than the finest gowns.

 

“And you’ll be needing your armour.” Arthur turned to Ned. “It’s all ready, the rest of the household is on their way. They’ll be here before the tournament starts.”

 

Ned nodded in response as they went into their pavilion. It was well furnished with all manner of expensive chests, chairs and tables, not that Ned paid much attention to them, as he was trying to put on his armour with Dorkk’s negligible help. The dwarf was a peerless blacksmith, but not someone you’d want to help you get dressed.

 

Both Sansa and Arya were fully dressed and waiting for him before Ned had even gotten the breastplate fully fastened. After it was finally done, Ned stood in front of a mirror to admire Dorkk’s craftsmanship.

 

The armour was purest Uru, dyed grey, with silver inlay wolves on the chestplate and a weirwood in the centre, small runes with in intricate patterns were carved all over the Uru. Dwarves abhorred unfilled space in their metalworks, so they filled it with interlace designs. The branches of the weirwood stretched and curved around the plate like so many snakes coiling around each other.

 

Eventually, Ned walked out of the pavilion with a scabbarded Ice in his hand and Dorrk carrying his great-helm. He was surprised to see Sansa, Arya, Arthur and Beric talking to a group of women. Most of them were younger but they had one old woman with them, Ned recognised one of them to be Alerie Tyrell, looking as beautiful as ever.

 

“Ah, here comes the wolf in question.” The old woman said.

 

“Prince Stark,” Alerie bowed with a smirk, letting him see down the expanse of her cleavage. “It’s been too long...”

 

“Indeed,” Ned responded, “Alas, I do not know who your companions are?”

 

“Then allow me to introduce my daughter: Margaery.” Alerie indicated to a beautiful young woman around Robb and Jon’s age with curly brown hair. As she was Alerie’s daughter, Ned tried not to notice that Margaery shared her mother’s form, as well as an affinity for wearing decidedly low-cut dresses. Though Ned did not fail to notice that Sansa was paying close attention to the Tyrell woman. “Her cousins, the daughters of Mina and Janna,” Alerie indicated to the other young women who curtsied prettily. “And finally my good-mother, Olenna Tyrell.”

 

“It is an honour to meet you, Lady Tyrell.” Ned bowed to the older woman. He had heard many tales of the Queen of Thorns from Beric. Apparently they had a relationship a number of decades ago.

 

“We’re here to watch Loras in the tourney.” She explained. “I was just telling your daughters how you and I are… Old friends…” Alerie smirked at him. Sansa managed to lift her eyes from Margaery’s cleavage and give him a look.

 

“My mothers and father have quite a few ‘Old friends’…” She said, pointedly.

 

“Alerie, why don’t you take the girls to the stands while the Hand and I discuss things.” Olenna motioned with her cain.

 

Ned bid his daughters farewell as Alerie lead the group of women away, Margaery taking Sansa by the arm. Ned heard them talking of riding Sunbeam together. Both Arthur and Beric said their goodbyes as they went with Dorkk to ready their mounts. Soon enough, Ned was left alone with the Queen of Thorns.

 

“Your Sansa seems quite taken with my granddaughter.” She said with a smile as she hobbled along, Ned following her.

 

“She seems a pleasant girl.” Ned agreed.

 

“Perhaps other children of yours would find her pleasant too. Our houses haven’t ever been directly opposed to each other, yet we’ve never been the closest of friends either. Yet we both greatly benefit from trade between our kingdoms.” Ned could tell where the conversation was going.

 

“I don’t think your son has forgiven me for what Snowsong did to his dragon.”

 

“He’s an oaf that should never have been given a dragon in the first place.” Olenna responded. “He would have been more than likely to fall from his mount and die, had you not grounded him.” There was a pause as the pair strolled to no particular destination. “The Reach has the biggest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms, your Great Canal is a great boon to our trading ships-”

 

“The tax rate on all non-Northern ships will remain the same.” Ned interrupted her. “That’s our canal you’e using, you should pay for it.” It was always the same. Half a dozen times a month Ned received letters from merchants and lords who wanted to use the Great Canal at a greatly reduced charge, offering money, daughters and anything else under the sun in exchange. Ned had always stood firm and denied them.

 

“I’m not suggesting we pay nothing, nor am I expecting you to lower rates without… incentive. The Reach, the North and the Westerlands are the the three most powerful kingdoms in Westeros, it doesn’t suit our interests to be against each other. However, if the time should come to take up arms, would you prefer Tywin Lannister to be our ally?”

 

“Why would we need to take up arms?” Ned asked the old woman, cautiously. “…What do you know?”

 

“Know? I know nothing, Prince Stark. As do you... right now. Good day.” And with that, she hobbled away, leaving Ned to wonder what she had meant.

 

Did she know of Jon Arryn? If so, why not say?

 

Thoughts swirled through Ned’s mind like a maelstrom, and he was standing in the eye of the storm, trying to feel his way out.

 

Ned could hear the horns being sounded, announcing the riders. He quickly made his way over to the stables to fetch his mount. Climbing into the saddle, Ned felt the absence of Fang. His direwolf was safely back in Winterfell now, with all his pups. Besides, even if he was with Ned, it would be unlikely that they would let him ride Fang in the lists. A direwolf would terrify every horse that saw it, likely causing them to throw their riders.

 

Pressing his heels into his mount’s flanks, he urged the horse forwards to the tourney grounds. Arthur and the seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as fresh-fallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion’s-head helm and a golden sword. Ser Arthur cut a more ragged figure beside his former brothers, his white cloak looking more tattered.

 

Ned had offered to have a new one made for him, Ash had even told her brother to wear the crest of their house. Arthur had denied them both, saying he preferred to keep his white cloak as it was. The crowds cheered as Beric ‘The Bloodwolf’ took his place beside Arthur in his dark red and grey armour. All knew the tales of the legendary Stark Grandmaster Witcher, who slew ‘The Minotaur of the Mander’ singlehandedly.

 

There were many other faces Ned spied among the riders. Lord Yohn Royce was easy to see in his bronze plated armour, covered in runes. The ridiculous looking warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head. It was nearly enough to make Ned discount him, before he remembered Thoros had been the first over the walls of Pyke with his flaming sword in hand.

 

Then came Renly in resplendent armour with a gold antlered helm. He had boasted of having half a dozen new suits of armour freshly made for the tourney. There were a hundred riders Ned did not know; hedge knights and rangers from the far north all the way to Dorne, all hoping for a chance at glory and adoration.

 

The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. Riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favourites.

 

Much to Ned’s annoyance, the Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior.

 

Sandor Clegane seemed unstoppable as well, riding down one foe after the next. Ned did not see the event, but he had heard the Hound had killed one of his opponents, when his lance splintered, stabbing the man in the neck. It was unfortunate, but such things happened at tourneys.

 

Ser Balon Swann fell to Arthur, and Renly to Beric. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he fell backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him.

 

When Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert’s younger brother was a great favourite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. Beric held it aloft with a cheer from the crowd before stowing it away. Doubtless, it was to be added to Beric’s extensive trophy collection.

 

Ned was surprised to see that he was also doing very well, having handily dispatched Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr and Lord Jason Mallister.

 

The hardest challenge Ned had faced was against the Hound. Ned had been happy to be facing the Lannister lackey, perhaps ‘accidentally’ win some justice for Mycha, the butchers boy. But Ned thought better of the notion, his daughters didn’t need to see him kill a man. Hopefully, they never would.

 

Both lances struck hard and true on the first bout, both of them seemingly immovable objects. Ned could hear crowds cheering for him and the Hound to kill each other.

 

The Old God of blood and death would certainly find ardent worshipers here, Ned thought. They’d offer him rivers of blood and skulls aplenty for his skull-throne. Ned had always thought of him as a cruel god.

 

Khorne cares not from where the blood flows, only that it flows…

 

Readying himself for the second bout, something caught Ned’s attention in the crowd. Kicking his heels, his horse pressed forward, speeding towards his opponent. Then Ned saw her.

 

Tyene!?

 

The Dornishwoman was in the lower stands, her dress pulled down to her waist, laughing as she bounced her large, naked breasts for him to see.

 

Before he could turn, the Hound’s lance struck him like the fist of an angry giant, shattering into a hundred splinters. The force of the blow sent Ned reeling back on his mount, nearly falling off before he regained his seat. A squire handed him another lance when he got to the other end of the field and Ned turned his horse around for the third bout.

 

Forcing himself not to look at Tyene, not playing her game, Ned focused on the Hound. He marshalled all the skills Arthur had taught him over the years as they raced towards each other.

 

The world took a breath before they clashed.

 

Wood splintered from both lances as Ned knocked the Hound clear off his horse and the crowds erupted into ruckus cheers. Ned looked to his daughters, who were both jumping up and down in very unladylike celebration. Mellario and the rest of the Martells were also clapping and cheering him in the higher stands, though Tyene was not among them.

 

Ned turned down to Tyene in the lower stands, her top half was still bear as she leaned over the stands and blew him a kiss. By that point, she was far from the only woman in the lower stands bearing her breasts to his gaze.

 

They do love a winner…

 

Ned held his fist to the sky in celebration as the crowds cheered his name and he rode off the field.

 

In the end it came down to four; Ned, Arthur, Jaime Lannister, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers.

 

Multiple times Ned saw Lady Alerie and Lady Margaery cheering for Ser Loras. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Even more impressive, he had unhorsed Beric in a spectacular display.

 

After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket before tossing it to some fair maiden in the crowd.

 

After that match, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so Robert decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day’s jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast.

 

A mammoth from the far north had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted it with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.

 

Ned sat with his daughters, Arthur and Beric in places of high honour, to the right of the raised dais where Robert and Cersei sat together. Arya seemed very impressed with his performance, asking him if he could teach her how to joust.

 

Singers sat before the king’s pavilion, filling the dusk with music. A juggler kept a cascade of burning clubs spinning through the air. The king’s own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Ned wondered if he was simple after all.

 

All the while the courses came and went, so many that Ned could not name them all, nor did he care to. Knowing just how much all of it had cost had dulled Ned’s mood somewhat. The hour had grown late, Ned had just sent his daughters off with Beric and Arthur when he came back to the feast, Robert began to shout.

 

He had grown louder with each course. From time to time, Ned could hear him laughing or roaring a command over the music and the clangor of plates and cutlery, but they were too far away for him to make out Robert’s words. He had always been boisterous during feasts, Ned had thought it was nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Now everybody heard him.

 

“No!” he thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. “You do not tell me what to do, woman!” he screamed at Cersei. “I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!”

 

Everyone was staring. No one made a move to interfere, Ned almost felt a pang of pity for Cersei in that moment. Her face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind.

 

Jaime Lannister put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, but the King shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. Robert just guffawed. “The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer.” He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. “Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!”

 

Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. “As you say, Your Grace.” His voice was still.

 

Renly was the first to come forward, smiling. “You’ve spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet.”

 

Ned was about to go to Robert before he heard a voice calling his name. He turned to see Lady Alerie Tyrell standing in front of him. Her long Valyrian hair was freely hanging down her back. She wore an ornate dress of green and gold, that showed an awful lot of her considerable cleavage. “I wish to talk to you…” she said as she looked up into his eyes. “Privately.” Ned knew exactly what she meant.

 

“What of your husband?” Ned glanced around, searching for Lord Mace.

 

“Don’t spare him a thought… I certainly won’t. He’ll barely notice we’re gone.” She laughed. “And I need you inside me...” Alerie said quietly, bitting her bottom lip seductively.

 

“Then let’s not waste any more time here.” Ned said, quietly ushering Alerie away from the feast.

 

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at his pavilion. Walking into it, past a despondent looking Harper and Harris when they saw Ned had company.

 

Ned placed Alerie on the bed and deftly worked to bindings of her dress, divesting her of if in record time. She was completely bared to him. Just the way he liked it.

 

She still smells like roses.

 

Taking in the wondrous sight before him, Ned’s eyes roamed Alerie’s curvy form, her pale skin, wide hips and exceedingly large breasts that had pleasured him many times during the rebellion and after. Leaning over Alerie, Ned pressed his lips to hers, kissing her for the first time in years.

 

The last time they had been together was during the Greyjoy rebellion. Ironborn raiders had taken her from Old Town and planned to make a gift of her to their king, to be his whore. Luckily, Ned’s forces had attacked and he had freed her. Alerie spent the rest of the war as his bedwarmer, sending her home with a babe in her belly, one she passed off as her husband’s.

 

“Feeling a little overdressed?” Alerie teased, her hand rubbing his cock as it strained against his breeches.

 

“Somewhat.” Ned chuckled, leaning back as he sat on the bed. “Perhaps you can assist?”

 

“It would be my pleasure.” Alerie smirked as she sunk to floor, on her knees.

 

Ned quickly pulled off his doublet and shirt as Alerie pulled he breeches down. When she pulled them far enough, his throbbing cock sprung out and smacked her right in the face, sending both of them into fits of laughter.

 

“I’ve never found another cock as perfect as this one.” Alerie muttered as she grasped it at the base and began to rub up and down the cock, giving it small kisses.

 

“You’ve been looking for one?”

 

“You can’t expect me to be satisfied with just my husband in your absence.” She laughed. “I’ve been searching high and low. From lords and knights sworn to my household, to common stable hands. None have had a cock as magnificent as yours, dear Ned.”

 

“Gods…” Ned moaned as she took his shaft deep into her throat, lavished his cock with her tongue, lazily sucking away at him. It was a technique she’d perfected during the rebellion and one she used to great effect now.

 

Ned lay back on the comfortable bed as the wet sounds of Alerie Tyrell loudly sucking his cock filled the room, her moans of pleasure becoming more and more apparent.

 

“I need your cock.” Alerie panted after she pulled her mouth away from his shaft, a long string of saliva still connecting them.

 

“Then I think it’s time we moved on to the main event.” Ned lifted Alerie from the grown and laid her on the bed.

 

She squeaked and giggled in response, spreading her arms and legs wide, arching her back to show off her prominent curves. Ned’s wet cock slapped down on her pelvis, making her shiver in anticipation.

 

“You’re going to be deeper inside me than any other man.” She moaned. It was always gratifying for Ned to hear that.

 

Especially from a married woman.

 

“Are you ready?” Ned asked as he angled his cock to the entrance of her cunt.

 

“Ready and eager.” Alerie nodded quickly.

 

Ned entered her slowly, inching his way into the familiar, but not recently visited cunt. Inch-by-inch, Ned eased into Alerie, as she wrapped her legs behind his hips, locking him inside her. He pulled out almost as slowly, then slammed all the way to the hilt inside her. Then again. And again. And again.

 

"Gods… You’re so big…" Alerie moaned, hoarsely.

 

Ned quickened his pace, thrusting in and out of her, the loud claps of their union would easily be heard outside. Alerie’s massive breasts bounced enticingly on her chest, in time with Ned’s thrusts. He gave them a few slaps, much to Alerie’s pleasure. Then he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking eagerly.

 

The sensations clearly became too much for the Tyrell woman to bear. Alerie was brought to a spasming climax beneath Ned, her voice was shaking as she moaned out a collection of half formed syllables that could have been Ned’s name.

 

The feeling of Alerie’s tight cunt squeezing his cock like a vice was near enough to end him there. But Ned was made of sterner stuff than that, he pulled back and rolled Alerie onto her knees on the bed. Her body moved bonelessly in his hands, she just accepted how Ned positioned her. He imagined if he stuffed his cock out her arsehole, she would readily accept it too.

 

Alerie’s face and chest were pressed into the bedsheets, arching her back wonderfully, emphasising her wide hips and the impressive globes of her arse. Ned spanked it a few times, eliciting deep moans from the Reacher woman as he turned her arse cheeks red.

 

Deciding he’d had enough of smacking her arse, Ned began to hammer into Alerie’s cunt at blinding speeds. She was wailing so loud they had to be able to hear her all over the camp.

 

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FILL ME WITH YOUR SEED!” Alerie cried. “I LOVE YOUR STARK COCK! YOU’RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN MY HUSBAND!”

 

Mostly followed by calling herself “Ned’s whore” and begging him to give her another child. Alerie squirted all over the bedsheets twice more, the second time when Ned was lying fully on top of her, taking her breasts in his hands, whispering utter filth into her ear and grinding his cock deep inside her.

 

It was the hour of the bat when Ned finally spent himself inside Alerie’s cunt, filling her to the brim with his seed. After an eternity, Ned removed his cock with a wet plop sound and a river of his seed flowed from within Alerie.

 

“That was… Ah… Glorious…” Alerie panted, still face down on the bed.

 

“I’ve missed you too.” Ned chuckled as he stretched out beside her.

 

“So… Now will you ally our houses?” She asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh… Sorry… Lady Olenna told to me to be more subtle, but after a performance like that… It’s a miracle I can still think.”

 

…What? Ned began to panic, did Alerie tell people she was his lover?

 

“Olenna knows?” Ned turned to his side on the bed.

 

“She found us out… She told me she knew ‘All too well’ what a Stark cock did to a woman.” Alerie let out a breathless laugh.

 

“She told you to fuck me, so I would agree to a marriage pact?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well… You put forth a convincing argument.” Ned said, as he positioned himself behind Alerie’s buxom rear end.

 

“We can’t continue…” Alerie said, sadly. “Even my husband will wonder where i’ve gone after a while.”

 

“Let him wonder.” Ned said, easing his cock into Alerie’s backdoor. “If your husband hasn’t noticed you’ve fucked every man in Highgarden, I can keep you for the night.”

 

“I… ah… Haven’t fucked every man in Highgarden…” Alerie whined as she gripped the bedsheets, trembling.

 

“…Yet?”

 

“Yet…” She smirked.

 

Alerie ended up staying in Ned’s bed, falling into a deep slumber after Ned had fucked her half a hundred times. Ned lay beside her sleeping form for a time, before he drifted off and sent his spirit in search of another skin.

 

He was searching for some time, before he found a suitable host. It was one of the many cats that lived in the Red Keep, mice were better at finding small spaces, but it was never a good idea to warg into a small prey animal. Cats were always good animals for clandestine acts, they were of the night, and who would suspect a cat to be spying on them?

 

Ned began his rounds by checking on his daughters. Arya was sleeping soundly, but as Ned was approaching Sansa’s door, it opened suddenly. Ned was surprised to see Margaery Tyrell looking disheveled, limping out of Sansa’s room, with two of her cousins Ned met earlier walking behind her. Both of which were in similar states to Margaery.

 

She always was her father’s daughter, Ned thought.

 

If cats could chuckle, he would have. Ash, Cat and Elia had often joked that Alysanne was the most like him of all his daughters, but it seemed that Sansa wasn’t lacking in that area. Content that his daughters were safe, Ned urged the cat deeper into the keep, in search of answers.

 

 

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“I stood last vigil for him myself,” Ser Barristan Selmy said as they looked down at the body in the back of the cart. “He had no one else. A mother in the Vale, I am told.”

 

In the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though he were sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothed his rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in his best velvet tunic, with a high collar to cover the ruin the lance had made of his throat. Ned looked down at his face,wondering if it had been for his sake that the boy had died. The poor wretch that the Hound had slain in the lists had been Ser Hugh, just the man Ned had wanted to talk with; could that be mere happenstance? He supposed he would never know, but he felt in his heart that it was deliberate.

 

“Hugh was Jon Arryn’s squire for four years,” Selmy went on. “The king knighted him before he rode north, in Jon’s memory. The lad wanted it desperately, yet I fear he was not ready.”

 

Ned felt tired beyond his years. The day had started well, with Alerie waking him like a king. Then Harper had entered the pavilion, telling him who it was that the Hound had murdered. “None of us is ever ready,” he said.

 

“For knighthood?”

 

“For death.” Gently Ned covered the boy with his cloak, a bloodstained bit of blue bordered in crescent moons. When his mother asked why her son was dead, he reflected bitterly, they would tell her he had fought to honor the King’s Hand, Prince Eddard Stark. He suddenly lost his desire to win the tourney. “This was needless. War should not be a game.” Ned turned to the woman beside the cart, shrouded in grey, face hidden but for her eyes. The silent sisters prepared men for the grave, and it was ill fortune to look on the face of death. “Send his armor home to the Vale. The mother will want to have it.”

 

“It’s worth a fair piece of silver,” Ser Barristan said. “The boy had it forged special for the tourney. Plain work, but good. I don’t even know if he’d finished paying the smith.”

 

“He paid yesterday, my lord, and he paid dearly,” Ned replied. And to the silent sister he said, “Send the mother the armour… I will deal with the smith.” She bowed her head.

 

Afterward, Ser Barristan walked with Ned to Robert’s pavilion. The camp was beginning to stir after a long night of feasting. Men and women were trying to discreetly walk back to their tents, after a night of elicit affairs brought on by too much wine and too little sense. Though Ned knew he could hardly judge in that area, spending the night fucking the wife of one of the most powerful lords in the realm was rarely a good idea. A serving man with a goose under his arm bent his knee when he caught sight of them.

 

“M’lords,” he muttered as the goose honked and pecked at his fingers. The shields displayed outside each tent heralded its occupant until at last Ned spied the pure white blazons of the Kingsguard, shining like the dawn.

 

“The king means to fight in the melee today,” Ser Barristan said as they were passing Ser Meryn’s shield, its paint sullied by a deep gash where Loras Tyrell’s lance had scarred the wood as he drove him from his saddle.

 

“I am aware,” Ned said grimly. He had intended to talk to Robert at the time, but Alerie had enticed him away.

 

Ser Barristan’s look was troubled. “They say night’s beauties fade at dawn, and the children of wine are oft disowned in the morning light.”

 

“Some might say that,” Ned agreed, “but Robert doesn’t.” Other men might reconsider words spoken in drunken bravado, but Robert Baratheon would remember and, remembering, would never back down. Robert’s pride was as ample as he himself had become, to have it wounded would only spur him on.

 

The king’s pavilion was close by the water, the morning mists of the river had wreathed it in wisps of grey. It was the largest and grandest structure in the camp. Outside the entrance, Robert’s mighty warhammer, Foebreaker was displayed beside an immense iron shield blazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon.

 

Ned had hoped to discover Robert still abed in a wine-soaked sleep, but luck was not with him. They found Robert drinking beer from a polished horn and roaring his displeasure at two young squires who were trying to buckle him into his armor. “Your Grace,” one was saying, almost in tears, “it’s made too small, it won’t go.” He fumbled, and the gorget he was trying to it around Robert’s thick neck tumbled to the ground.

 

“Seven hells!” Robert swore. “Do I have to do it myself? Piss on the both of you. Pick it up. Don’t just stand there gaping, Lancel, pick it up!” The lad jumped, and the king noticed his company. “Look at these oafs, Ned. My wife insisted I take these two to squire for me, and they’re worse than useless. One ball and no brains, between them.”

 

Ned only needed a glance to understand the diculty. “You’re too fat for your armour.”

 

Robert Baratheon took a long swallow of beer, tossed the empty horn onto his sleeping furs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said darkly, “Oh, Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your king?” He let go his laughter, sudden as a storm.

 

The squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. “Oh that’s funny is it?”

 

“N-No, your Grace.” One of them stammered quickly.

 

“No?” Ned could tell Robert was playing a trick on them. “You don’t like the Hand’s joke?”

 

“You’re torturing the poor boys.” Ned told Robert.

 

“You heard the Hand. The king’s too fat for his armor. Go find Ser Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now!”

 

The boys tripped over each other in their haste to be quit of the tent. Robert managed to keep a stern face until they were gone. Then he dropped back into a chair, shaking with laughter.

 

Ser Barristan Selmy chuckled with him. Even Ned managed a smile. As always, though, the graver thoughts crept in. He could not help taking note of the two squires: handsome boys, fair and well made. One was maybe three-and-ten, with long golden curls; the other perhaps five-and-ten, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache and the emerald-green eyes of the queen.

 

“Ah, I wish I could be there to see Santagar’s face,” Robert said. “I hope he’ll have the wit to send them to someone else. We should to keep them running around all day!”

 

“Those boys,” Ned asked him. “Lannisters?”

 

Robert nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. “Cousins. Sons of Lord Tywin’s brother. One of the dead ones. Or perhaps the live one, now that I come to think on it. I don’t recall. My wife comes from a very large family, Ned.” Then a pause. “Isn’t one of your boys married to a Lannister cousin?”

 

“Their mother is sister to Tywin Lannister, but the twins are house Ryder. At least they were until the married my Jon.” Ned corrected him.

 

“Twins?” Robert asked, seemingly astounded. “I’ll never understand how you Starks do it. Half the lords in the realm can barely handle marriage to one woman, yet you marry three and your son marries two. Two Lannisters at that.”

 

“All you need is offer lots of care and attention.” Ned explained. “Of course, everyone in the marriage must be equal and each needs to want the relationship to work-“

 

“I need your counsel on many things, Ned.” Robert interrupted him. “My marriage isn’t one of them. Besides, you’re not married to Cersei Lannister. Lannister pride knows no bounds.”

 

Nor does their ambition, Ned thought. He had nothing against the squires, but it troubled him to see Robert surrounded by the queen’s kin, waking and sleeping. Like their pride, the Lannister appetite for offices and honours seemed to know no bounds.

 

“Speaking of the Queen.” Ned began. “You had quite loud and angry words with her last night.”

 

The mirth curdled on Robert’s face. “The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She’s sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that.”

 

“You do not know Lyanna as I do, Robert,” Ned told him. “You see her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would join the melee herself and beat you into the dirt, to prove you had no place there.”

 

“You too?” The king frowned. “You are a sour man, Stark. Too long in the north, all the juices have frozen inside you. Well, mine are still running.” He slapped his chest to prove it.

 

“You are the king,” Ned reminded him.

 

“I sit on the damn iron seat when I must. Does that mean I don’t have the same hungers as other men? A bit of wine now and again, a girl squealing in bed, the feel of a horse between my legs? Seven hells, Ned, I want to hit someone.”

 

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. “Your Grace,” he said, “it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?”

 

Robert seemed honestly taken aback. “Why, all of them, damn it. If they can. And the last man left standing...”

 

“...Will be you,” Ned finished. He saw at once that Selmy had hit the mark. The dangers of the melee were only a savor to Robert, but this touched on his pride. “Ser Barristan is right. There’s not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you.”

 

“You’re taking part in it!” Robert pointed an accusatory finger at Ned.

 

“I am not the king.” Ned affirmed. “Besides, someone needs to win the prize money back for the crown.”

 

The king rose to his feet, his face flushed. “So you’re telling me I can’t take part because those prancing cravens would let me win?”

 

“For a certainty,” Ned said, and Ser Barristan Selmy bowed his head in silent accord.

 

For a moment Robert was so angry he could not speak. He strode across the tent, whirled, strode back, his face dark and angry. He snatched up his breastplate from the ground and threw it at Barristan Selmy in a wordless fury. Selmy dodged. “Get out,” the king said then, coldly. “Get out before I kill you.”

 

Ser Barristan left quickly. Ned was about to follow when the king called out again. “Not you, Ned.”

 

Ned turned back. Robert took up his horn again, filled it with beer from a barrel in the corner, and thrust it at Ned. “Drink,” he said brusquely.

 

“I’ve no thirst—”

 

“Drink. Your king commands it.”

 

Ned took the horn and drank. The beer was black and thick, so strong it stung the eyes.

 

Robert sat down again. “Damn you, Ned Stark. You and Jon Arryn, I loved you both. What have you done to me? You were the one should have been king, you or Jon.”

 

“You had the better claim, Your Grace.” And I would not sit that throne in a million years.

 

“I told you to drink, not to argue. You made me king, you could at least have the courtesy to listen when I talk, damn you. Look at me, Ned. Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this?”

 

“Robert ...”

 

“Drink and stay quiet, the king is talking. I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I’ve won it. And Cersei... I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. I had no wish to marry after Lyanna was taken from me, but Jon said the realm needed an heir. Cersei Lannister would be a good match, he told me, she would bind Lord Tywin to me should Viserys Targaryen ever try to win back his father’s throne,” Robert shook his head. “I loved that old man, I swear it, but now I think he was a bigger fool than Moon Boy. Oh, Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold... The way she guards her cunt, you’d think she had all the gold of Casterly Rock between her legs. She even got a dragon egg off me too. Pridefyre she calls it, a more lazy and preening dragon you never did see. All that fuss about wanting a dragon and she never rides it. If Stormbreaker were half as healthy as her dragon i’d be riding him every morning. Here, give me that beer if you won’t drink it.” He took the horn, upended it, belched, wiped his mouth. “I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolves, I mean, sending them back to Winterfell. My son was lying, I’d stake my soul on it. My son... You love your children, don’t you?”

 

“With all my heart,” Ned said.

 

“Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?”

 

“He’s only a boy,” Ned said awkwardly. He had no liking for Prince Joffrey, but he could hear the pain in Robert’s voice and telling him he was right wasn’t the best option. “Have you forgotten how wild you were at his age?”

 

“It would not trouble me if the boy was wild, Ned. You don’t know him as I do.” He sighed and shook his head. “Ah, perhaps you are right. Jon despaired of me often enough, yet I grew into a good king.” Robert looked at Ned and scowled at his silence. “You might speak up and agree now, you know.”

 

“Your Grace...” Ned began, carefully.

 

Robert slapped Ned on the back. “Ah, say that I’m a better king than Aerys and be done with it. You never could lie for love nor honor, Ned Stark. I’m still young, and now that you’re here with me, things will be different. We’ll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells. I smell bacon. Who do you think our champion will be today? My money’s on you, but have you seen Mace Tyrell’s boy? The Knight of Flowers, they call him. Now there’s a son any man would be proud of. Last tourney, he dumped the Kingslayer on his golden rump, you ought to have seen the look on Cersei’s face. I laughed till my sides hurt.”

 

They broke their fast on black bread and boiled goose eggs and fish fried up with onions and bacon, at a trestle table by the river’s edge. The king’s melancholy melted away with the morning mist, and before long Robert was eating an orange and waxing fond about a morning at the Eyrie when they had been boys. “... had given Jon a barrel of oranges, remember? Only the things had gone rotten, so I flung mine across the table and hit Dacks right in the nose. You remember, Redfort’s pock-faced squire? He tossed one back at me, and before Jon could so much as fart, there were oranges flying across the High Hall in every direction.” He laughed uproariously, and even Ned smiled, remembering.

 

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he’d known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Catelyn, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly.

 

That breakfast tasted better than anything Ned had eaten in a long time, and afterward his smiles came easier and more often, until it was time for the tournament to resume.

 

Ned returned to his tent to find that Alerie had gone back to her husband, but Anna Henrietta had taken her cousins place on his bed. She and her husband had come to the tourney with the Tyrells, bringing their children with them. This included Ned’s son with Anna, that she had passed off as her husband’s.

 

Trying to put on his armour was made more difficult by the fact that the gorgeous woman was sucking his cock with gusto. Eventually, Ned grew frustrated, threw Anna onto the bed and fucked her roughly. They weren’t at it long before Anna was shaking under the force of multiple, eye-rolling climaxes. Ned finished their speedy liaison by seeding her womb, doubtless giving her another bastard to raise as her husband’s child.

 

With Anna passed out on his bed, Ned was finally able to properly don his armour. Remembering Alerie the night before, Ned thought of just how many noble women had come to fuck him during the tourney. Teora Templeton and the Belmore twins, who had been among his lovers in the Vale were the first women to see him as the guests arrived. All three of them brought him news of the bastards he had fathered on them. Then there was the ironically named Lady Laygood, she was certainly a screamer.

 

There were half a dozen other noble women that Ned had lain with over the days of the tourney, he knew their faces but he could not name them all. Everyone wanted time with him as the Hand of the King.

 

“I’ll be done soon.” Ned said as he heard people entering behind him.

 

“A shame we did not arrive earlier.” He heard Mellario’s voice. Turning, Ned saw she was standing in his tent with her daughter and the Sand Snakes, each wearing a more outrageous dress than the next. Apart from Obara, who wore breeches and a shirt. Substantial curves obviously ran in their family.

 

“Who’s your friend?” Tyene giggled, indicating to the freshly-fucked unconscious woman on his bed.

 

“Looks like Lady Henrietta to me.” Obara scoffed as she walked over to the bed and lifted Anna’s head up by her golden-brown locks.

 

“Isn’t she married?” Asked Nymeria.

 

“All Reacher women are whores, Nym.” Obara nodded, answering her sister.

 

“Is there something you wished to discuss with me?” Ned asked Mellario, conscious of the fact that the horns were already blowing for the last riders.

 

“Only to wish you luck, my dear.” Mellario took him in her arms, drawing him down for a deep, sensual kiss. “And say there’ll be a substantial reward for you, when you’ve won.” She winked, then turned to leave. The other Dornishwomen giggled around her, except the tall and muscled Obara.

 

“Make sure you keep this safe.” Arianne said as she groped his codpiece as the others left. “You’re going to need it.” Then she strutted away, smirking as she put extra sway in her hips as she went. Ned was reminded of the last time he’d seen her walked away from him like that.

 

It had been a few days ago. After Ned had seen Arianne playing with herself as she watched him fuck Mellario multiple times, he decided to take the first step. He had hidden in a side closet in one of the corridors of the Red Keep, where he knew she would walk past.

 

Ned waited until he saw her, then he leaped out and dragged the much smaller woman into the darkened closet, much to her surprise. When he showed her his face, she understood his intentions clearly.

 

No words ever passed between them. Ned had torn her dress off stuffed her full of his cock. Arianne had one of the tightest, wettest cunts Ned had ever fucked. He had thrust away until she was an inch away from her climax.

 

Then he had suddenly pulled away and left her naked and fucked in a small closet. It was a game he played with Arianne, he would edge her closer and closer to her end before abandoning her, leaving her wanting more.

 

Eventually, she would come to him, on her knees begging for him to finish her. They had done that dance multiple times until a few days ago, when Ned had decided to take it a step further.

 

“What are you doing?” Arianne asked as Ned picked up her dress after their liaison and burned it with magic.

 

“I imagine you’ll have to wait until someone walks past, then you can ask for their help.” Ned smirked down at her, before he left the closet. What happened next certainly surprised Ned. Arianne had opened the closet door and brazenly stepped into the light of the corridor, completely naked.

 

“You think I am ashamed of my body?” Arianne tilted her head up to him, challengingly, cocking her hip to the side. “Tell me, do you think I have anything to be ashamed of?”

 

Ned had let his eyes roam Arianne’s body. It was the first time he’d seen it properly in the light. It was a glorious thing. She was without a doubt, one of the most beautiful, seductive women Ned had ever seen.

 

Arianne was very buxom, with flawless olive skin, large dark eyes, full sumptuous lips and long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets to the middle of her back. Going down her bronzed skin, Ned took in Arianne’s stupendous bust.

 

Cat had the best breasts in all the realms, but Arianne’s were the closest to a match that Ned had ever seen, surpassing even Mellario. They stood high an firm on Arianne’s chest, a seemingly impossible feat with their size, her small frame only emphasising their heft. They were round and ripe melons, capped with large, dark, pierced nipples.

 

Were there ever nipples so large and responsive?

 

Ned’s gaze fell further down, past her breasts to her nearly flat stomach, a twinkling jewel piercing her bellybutton. And further still, Ned saw her bare cunt, still throbbing and leaking her pleasure down her thick thighs.

 

Arianne had only smirked and turned around, presenting her magnificent arse for him. Ned had been astonished for the second time in as many minutes. Much like with Cat, Ash had the best arse in all the kingdoms, yet Arianne’s was the closest Ned had seen to a match for it.

 

It had taken all of Ned’s willpower not to start fucking her right in the corridor, consequences be damned.

 

“…So… What do you think?” Arianne giggled after a long pause. Ned did not give her the satisfaction.

 

“I think Tyene’s are better.” He lied. Arianne had pouted furiously. Before her face turned back into her usual smirk.

 

“Then I suppose we shall have to compare.” With that, she had turned and strutted away from Ned, still completely naked in the middle of the Red Keep. Arianne made sure to put some extra bounce in her behind as she walked away, stopping only for a moment in shock when a squire carrying a shield came around the corner. They stood there for a few moments, both looking at each other. Then Arianne looked back at Ned with a smirk. “Enjoy it while you can, boy.” She said to the squire, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. The shield, a long forgotten memory, clattering to the floor as she moved his hands to grope her breasts. Ned knew it was a vain attempt to make him jealous. After they pulled apart, Arianne had whispered something in the squire’s ear, something that made him grin like an idiot then lead him away. Ned had decided to use that distraction to make a hasty retreat.

 

“They’re waiting for you.” Harper’s voice drew Ned from his thoughts. He quickly found his way to his mount and rode to the lists, where he found that it was the Kingslayer against Arthur for the first bout.

 

Arthur was the first rider to appear. He wore his tattered white cloak over his shining armor.

 

“A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer,” Ned heard someone call from the higher stands above as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Jaime glittered from head to heel. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.

 

“Done,” Someone, possibly Renly shouted back. “The man taught the kingslayer everything he knew.”

 

“Then who would be better suited to best him?” The voice Ned recognised as Joffrey called, dryly.

 

Arthur Dayne dropped his visor with an audible clang and took up his position. Ser Jaime tossed a kiss to some woman in the commons, gently lowered his visor, and rode to the end of the lists. Both men couched their lances.

 

Ned had faith in his good-brother. The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. Arthur leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady, but Jaime shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Arthur’s point was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and Arthur reeled, fighting to keep his seat. A ragged cheer went up from the commons.

 

Arthur only just managed to stay in his saddle. He jerked his mount around hard and rode back to the lists for the second pass. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and snatched up a fresh one, jesting with his squire. Arthur spurred forward at a hard gallop. Lannister rode to meet him. This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Arthur shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented.

 

“Did you worry for me?” Arthur japed as he cantered his horse over to Ned.

 

“Never doubted you, never will.” Ned laughed.

 

Jaime Lannister was unfortunately quickly back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, over it all Ned could hear King Robert laughing, louder than anyone. Finally, they had to lead the Lion of Lannister off to a blacksmith, blind and stumbling. Ned went to his position at his end of the grounds.

 

As the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd. Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and ligreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots.

 

The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy’s shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.

 

His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. Ned’s stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer.

 

Ned was having trouble controlling his horse. The stallion was screaming and pawing the ground, shaking his head.

 

The mare’s in heat, Ned realised. Now that was a clever trick, and probably one that would have worked on most other riders. Ned, however, was a well practiced warg of considerable power. It was child’s-play to calm his horse down. Soon enough he had the stallion back in hand.

 

Remember, you could be forming an alliance with his house soon enough, best not to hurt him too bad.

 

Ned had heard of how Oberyn had accidentally broken Willas Tyrell’s leg at a tourney. While Willas had forgiven Oberyn and become good friends with the Dornish prince, the rest of the Tyrell family had never forgiven him.

 

The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. The announcer blew the horn and suddenly it began. Ned’s stallion broke in a hard gallop, racing forward, as the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ned raised his shield to it’s position, aiming his lance at his opponent, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance in the centre of Ned’s Uru plated, direwolf shield.

 

A thousand splinters exploded outwards from both lances, yet neither fell from their saddles. Circling round and picking up another lance, both riders charged again, faster than the first time. In the blink of an eye, they met in the centre again. Again, both lamces exploding, only this time, it was Loras who feel from his mount.

 

Ned heard applause, cheers and boos in near equal measure. It seemed the crowds had preferred the dashing young Knight of the Flowers to an old northern wolf. It warmed his heart to see his daughters were cheering loudly for him, along with Robert and the Martell family, who were sitting with them.

 

The trumpets blew again and they announced that the final joust would begin, Arthur Dayne against Eddard Stark. The crowds grew silent as they both positioned themselves at opposite ends of the field.  Ned knew he could rest easy, as the reason he had joined in the first place was to win the champion’s purse for the crown. At least then he wouldn’t feel like the whole tourney had been a waste.

 

Both Arthur and Beric had agreed with Ned that if they won, they would give the money back as well. But now, as Ned stared down the lists at his good-brother, he thought that it was only right that the Hand should win his own tourney, and the was the ‘reward’ Mellario had promised him.

 

There was a pregnant pause as the announcer held the trumpet to his lips. All breath left the crowd as the world stood still. It was so quiet, Ned could hear the heartbeats of every man, woman and child there.

 

Then the trumpets blew and the world shook with the sounds of thundering hooves and cheering commoners. There were only moments before the riders clashed, both lances striking hard and true. Ned was knocked back hard, reeling on his saddle, trying to stay on his horse.

 

By the time Ned’s horse had galloped to the other end of the field, Ned had regained his seat, he saw that Arthur had been in a similar position to him. Neither needed new lances, so they charged again.

 

The crowds cheered and screamed their names as they raced towards each other. Ned shifted in his saddle and aimed his lance at just below the centre of Arthur’s shield. They crashed together again as the crowd roared, this time Ned stayed in his seat and Arthur was knocked to the ground.

 

A wave of celebration crashed through the stands. Ned made sure Arthur got back to his feat, then rode from one end of the lists to the other, the people chanting his name as he went.

 

Ned took the victory, but gave the champion’s purse back to the crown, over Robert’s objections. The commons cheered him as he left the lists to return to his pavilion.

 

After Ned had changed back into more comfortable clothes, he walked with Sansa and Arya to the archery field, Arthur, Beric and some of the others fell in with them after giving Ned their congratulations.

 

“Tyrell had to know the mare was in heat,” Beric was saying, the notion seemed to amuse him.

 

It did not amuse Ser Barristan Selmy. “There’s no honour in tricks,” the old man said stiffly.

 

“No honour and quite a bit of gold.” Renly smiled.

 

“They could have at least let us take part in the archery competition.” Sansa added. As it was law in the North, that everyone over the age of ten would need to practice archery in some form on every seventh day, both Sansa and Arya had become quite skilled with a bow.

 

“They don’t let women into competitions in the south.” Ned told them.

 

“Well that’s shit!” Arya swore.

 

“Arya!” Sansa raised her voice as the others laughed around them.

 

That afternoon Hagman won the archery competition, easily outshooting Ser Balon Swann, Theon Greyjoy and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances. He was by far the best archer Ned had ever seen, though he didn’t think Hagman had needed to show off quite so much during the competition. Every arrow Hagman loosed, landed perfectly in the centre of the target. As Ned had instructed him, he also dedicated his champion’s purse to the crown. Ned would think of a way to compensate him some other time.

 

The melee went on for three hours. Near forty men took part, freeriders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation. They fought with blunted weapons in a chaos of mud and blood, small troops fighting together and then turning on each other as alliances formed and fractured, until only one man was left standing. Ned stood victorious over three King’s guard and Thoros of Myr, with his flaming sword. Robert had looked at Ned ruefully when he had also dedicated the Melee Champion’s purse to the crown.

 

The final tally was three broken limbs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises than anyone cared to count. Ned was desperately pleased that Robert had not taken part.

 

That night at the feast, Ned was more hopeful than he had been in a great while. Robert was in high good humor, the Lannisters were nowhere to be seen, and even his daughters were behaving. They had both been quite excited by their father’s many victories. Soon enough, Arya had grown tired and Ned had Harper return her to her bed.

 

That was when he saw them.

 

Then the women of house Martell joined the feast. Ned heard more than a few gasps as the Dornish women walked in. First came Elia Sand, then Sarella, Tyene, Nymeria, Obara and Ellaria. Each of them wearing dresses that emphasised their substantial curves apart from Obara. Though surprisingly, Obara, who was by far the tallest and most muscular, had the greatest curves of all her sisters, perhaps even matching Arianne and Mellario.

 

The women in question arrived after the Sand Snakes. Mellario, walking in wearing a binding of thin blue silk around her breasts, nearly see-through in the fire light. The rest of her body was completely uncovered save for a loincloth made of the same blue silk that hung in two long strips at her front and back. All eyes were on Mellario, with most of her skin bared to their gaze. She wouldn’t have looked out of place in a brothel.

 

When Arianne stepped out from behind her mother, Ned worried for the health of some of the older men there. It seemed Arianne had found a way to wear even less than Mellario. Instead of a silk wrap around her breasts, Arianne had chosen for coin-sized golden suns that only covered her large, dark nipples, with a small gold chain connecting them. Looking closer, Ned could see that the edges of Arianne’s nipples weren’t even completely covered by twin suns. She had opted for a similar loincloth to her mother, only with even less cloth. A small golden triangle with a sun engraved on it was held over Arianne’s mound by many small gold chains that stretched around the ample curve of her wide hips. No doubt to a similar piece of metal partially covering Arianne’s arse. The princess also wore a golden tiara, with emeralds set into the metal.

 

All the Martell women locked eyes with Ned. Perhaps for the first time in a long while, Ned felt a twinge of fear.

 

After a few moments, Ned realised the bards had stopped playing. Yennefer, who was currently sitting beside him at the table poked him in the side, telling him to do something. He gestured to the musicians to continue playing, it brought the feast out of their trance quick enough. The feast, more or less, went back to how it was. People were singing, dancing and eating.

 

“No man could stand against you in the field, today.” Arianne grinned as she sat opposite Ned.

 

“You’re too kind.” Ned said, courteously. Arianne giggled and straightened her back, making her giant breasts even more prominent.

 

“Where did you get that outfit?” Yennefer asked Arianne, indicating to her nipple coverings.

 

“They wear this often in Lys.” Unsurprising.

 

“You look gorgeous.” Yennefer complimented her.

 

“Thank you. You’d turn more than your fair share of heads if you wore it.” Arianne murmured, looking up and down Yennefer’s form. The Mage had worn her usual black and white, with a healthy display of cleavage and leg.

 

“Now there’s an idea.” Yennfer laughed.

 

“Have you ever been to Lys, Prince Stark?” Arianne turned to Ned. “I can imagine, to a man who surrounds himself with as many beautiful women as you do,” She indicated to Yennefer. “Lys would be paradise.”

 

“No.” Ned answered, he had only ever been to Essos three times. Each time it was to meet with the Iron bank in Braavos.

 

“They’d never let him leave.” Yennefer said, dryly.

 

“Indeed.” Arianne laughed. “I can’t imagine any sane woman would.” She was looking at Ned like she wanted to eat him. He knew he was losing their game at that moment, so he decided to do something he’d only done with his wives.

 

Years ago, Triss had taught him a spell that created an ethereal facsimile of his cock, something that had become very useful over the years.

 

Silently, Ned cast the spell and quickly manoeuvred it into Arianne’s cunt. She gasped and dropped her fork the moment it entered her, she looked at Ned, panting in confusion. Ned only smiled and winked. “Something wrong, princess?”

 

“Not at all.” Arianne quickly stammered, trying to regain her composure as she breathed deeply, making her massive, bouncy breasts rise and fall quickly.

 

“You look a little flushed.” Yennefer smirked, she knew what Ned was doing.

 

“Maybe it’s the heat, or the smell…” Arianne said as she gripped the table, Ned was setting a blinding pace for the magic cock as it ravaged her. “Is something burning?”

 

Your loins, perhaps.

 

“Oh no, I dropped my fork.” Arianne deadpanned as she knocked her fork off the table and shakily got on her knees beneath it. It only took a few moments before Ned felt her hands undoing his breeches and fishing out his hard cock, welcoming it into the warm embrace of her mouth.

 

“These southern whores are too easy.” Yennefer laughed as she drank from her wine goblet.

 

“Don’t discount their skill.” Ned chuckled as he dispersed the spell so Arianne wouldn’t climax. He leaned back into his chair as he enjoyed Arianne frantically sucking his cock. She wasn’t drawing out the foreplay, she was just burying his cock deep in her throat.

 

“Gods, she’s certainly eager.” Yennfer said as she glanced down to Ned’s lap. Arianne could only hum in response as she vigorously bobbed her head up and down on Ned’s shaft.

 

“Talented too.” Ned chuckled. Arianne had started to focus on his cock head, sucking hard as her tongue swirled around it and her hands rubbed up and down his shaft, her large, dark eyes gazing up at him, pleading for his seed.

 

“Oh no… I’ve dropped my fork too…” Yennefer deadpanned as she knocked her fork off the table as well and joined Arianne on his cock.

 

Ned could barely hold in a chuckle as two beautiful women, who hadn’t shared a word before the feast, were sharing his cock like a well-practiced duo. Hearing a soft thud under the table, Ned looked down to see Arianne holding her hand to the back of her head.

 

“Ow! There’s no fucking space here.” She whispered. Yennefer then cast a spell, speaking words in the Old Tongue.

 

“I’ve cast an illusion. None shall see or hear what we’re really doing.” She told them. “So you can move your chair back a bit, Ned and we can come out from under the table.” Ned hesitated. “It’ll be fine, look.”

 

Yennefer rose from under the table and magically removed her dress, right in the middle of the feast. Ned looked around, no one even batted an eye.

 

“Gods…” Arianne bit her bottom lip as she leered at Yennfer, Ned couldn’t blame her. Beautiful face, raven locks, porcelain skin and curves to make men weep, Yennefer had it all.

 

Ned pushed his chair away from the table, none noticed his cock was out either. Soon enough, both Yennefer and Arianne were back to sucking his cock, now out in the open.

 

Ned took hold of both their heads, pushing them closer together, placing his throbbing cock between the two sets of plump lips. Then he started to thrust his hips back and forth between them, sliding their lips along his shaft as he fucked their mouths.

 

The two pale and darker skinned women massaged Ned’s cock with their mouths, licking and sucking along his shaft as he kept them at a constant pace, sliding them all the way up and down his shaft.

 

Both women moaned and sucked on Ned’s meat as their heads bobbed up and down, both devoted only to pleasuring him. They began to kiss around the head of his cock as Ned swapped it between their mouths.

 

“You rode well at the tourney today.” Renly surprised Ned.

 

“Everyone did.” Ned tired to maintain conversation as Renly was completely unaware of what Yennefer and Arianne were doing to him.

 

“I haven’t seen someone knock Loras off his horse for some time.” Renly chuckled as he sat beside Ned, in the seat Yennefer had been sitting in earlier.

 

“The boy would make a fine King’s guard one day.” Ned forced out his words, the illusion apparently working well enough that Renly didn’t notice that either.

 

“It was certainly good of you to give your winnings back, I imagine that eased the load our lovely new Master of Coin has to bear.” Renly turned to Yennefer.

 

“I’ll always happily accept any load Prince Stark decides to give me.” She answered, as she kissed along Ned’s cock while Arianne sucked on his balls.

 

“I fear I must leave you now,” Renly rose from his seat. “For I have spied Lord Tyrell and wish to speak with him.”

 

The three of them were left alone again.

 

“Time to end this.” Ned told his women as he stuffed his cock the whole way down Yennefer’s throat and began to skull fuck her. Thankfully, the obscene noises coming from her throat were concealed by the illusion.

 

Arianne worshipping his balls with her tongue, licking and sucking on one, then the other. With a sigh, Ned let go, filling Yennefer’s throat with his seed. She coughed and spluttered as she tried to swallow it all down.

 

Ned pulled away so he could cover both their faces in his seed. He shot rope after rope onto their perfect faces as they kissed, swapping his seed between their mouths. When Ned was done, he just sat back and watched as the two women licked his seed off of each other.

 

“You taste divine.” Arianne declared, licking her lips as she got to her feet, then sat back down on her chair.

 

Yennefer re-materialised her dress and Ned stuffed his cock back into his breeches. When Yennefer removed her illusion, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

 

The feast went on for a number of hours more, Sansa and Triss had been introduced to the rest of the Sand Snakes by Tyene, becoming fast friends. Eventually, the feast ended and they all made their way to the Red Keep.

 

After Ned made sure Sansa was abed, he ascended to his own chambers atop the Tower of the Hand. The day had been warm and the room was close and stuffy.

 

Ned threw off his clothes, went to the window and unfastened the heavy shutters to let in the cool night air. The hour was well past midnight. Down by the river, the revels had nearly entirely fallen away.

 

Ned turned as he heard the doors open behind him. In walked Mellario, Arianne, Ellaria, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella and Elia. Each of them wearing dark, heavy cloaks that covered them from head to toe.

 

“I seem to recall saying you would get a substantial reward if you won the tourney.” Mellario purred, and they all removed their cloaks, revealing that none of them were wearing anything else.

 

“Fuck me…” Ned uttered as he looked at the eight, beautiful naked women standing in his chambers, his throat going dry.

 

“That’s the idea.” Mellario tittered as she strode confidently towards him.

 

Ned sent off a silent thanks to the Old Gods, but was interrupted by Mellario pulling him down into a sensual kiss as she wrapped her hand around his rapidly hardening cock. A few moments later, he was pulled away from Mellario by Ellaria, who replaced her on Ned’s lips.

 

Sensing the others were walking towards him, Ned saw that Arianne and Tyene had taken his hands and pulled them to their massive breasts. His cock twitched as he felt the soft tit-flesh around his fingers.

 

“It’s been too long, Ned.” Ellaria smirked up at him as they pulled apart, then Tyene replaced Ellaria.

 

“Ah! Bitch!” He heard Arianne fume. “It was my turn!”

 

As his tongue wrestled with Tyene’s, Ned was vaguely aware that he was being moved by the eight women over to his bed. With a soft thump, he fell back onto the mattress. Gazing up at the women around him, Ned wondered what he had done for the Gods to reward him so.

 

It took a few moments for Ned to realise that they were all staring at his cock, throbbing as it pointed to the ceiling of his bedchambers.

 

“Isn’t it just magnificent, Elia?” Ellaria sat beside Ned and took his cock in hand, pointing it towards the youngest Sand Snake there.

 

“My Elia celebrated her eight-and-tenth nameday before we left Dorne.” She looked back to Ned. “My daughter told us that she wanted you to be the one to take her maidenhead.”

 

Ned turned in surprise to Elia, who smiled down at him, blushing slightly. She looked so much like his Elia. It was like looking into the past, seeing Elia before he had met her.

 

“If that is what you wish.” He told her. “Then I would be happy to assist you.”

 

“Thank you, Prince Stark.” Elia said, grinning. “To hear the others tell it, you’re the best they’ve ever had.”

 

“I try not to brag.” Ned chuckled.

 

“Handsome, hung and humble…” Elia smirked. “It’ll be difficult to stay away, after i’ve had a taste.”

With that, she joined him on the bed as the other women in the room stood and watched.

 

“Go on, sis.” Tyene cheered. “Give him a ride he won’t soon forget.” Ellaria was sitting beside Ned on the bed as Elia knelt over him.

 

“Gods… How is this going to fit inside me?” Elia marvelled at his cock as she took it in her hands.

 

“Very slowly.” Ellaria japed. Ned just lay back and let his gaze roam over Elia’s elegant body. She had large, firm breasts, though they were perhaps the smallest pair in the room. Her dark tresses fell to her shoulders, shorter even than Tyene’s hair. It was clear to Ned that she took care of herself, her muscles were lightly toned and what little fat she had on her seemed to be concentrated on her breasts and peachy behind.

 

She was his Elia, only writ slightly smaller, understandable as she had never given birth. To hear Ash and Elia tell it, she had been near as flat as a board before she had birthed Rhaenys. Afterwards, she had been given breasts to rival Cat’s own monumental bust.

 

Thoughts of his wives made Ned’s cock twitch in Elia’s hand as she teased her lower lips with the cock head.

 

“He seems eager for some maiden cunt.” Nymeria smirked as she put a hand on her hip.

 

“Are you?” Elia teased. “I bet you are… You’ve probably deflowered hundreds of maids in your time haven’t you?”

 

Ned wasn’t sure if it was indeed hundreds, he’d never kept count. “Few were ever as lovely as you.” Ned decided to charm her, running his hands along Elia’s thick thighs.

 

She giggled in response, then lowered herself down an inch into his cock. Her giggles quickly turned to moans and panting.

 

“Ten silver stags say she can’t get over half of it.” Obara wagered behind her.

 

“Done.” Sarella said, quickly.

 

“Have you no faith in your sister?” Ellaria pouted, then placed her hand on Elia’s thigh.

 

“You’re doing well, dear. You should’ve seen when I first took that monster. Ned had to go so slow…”

 

“Now you can take it as well as I can.” Mellario giggled, she and Arianne had both sat down on Ned’s other side. Elia had placed her feet on either side of Ned’s hips, squatting down another few inches on his cock.

 

“Fuck…” she sighed, screwing her eyes shut.

 

“How does it feel, sweetling?” Mellario purred, reaching out to palm one of Elia’s supple breasts.

 

“Feels like getting stretched by a massive cock!” Elia shivered in response, nearing half the way down Ned’s cock. Ned gritted his teeth as her speared deeper within the Sand Snake, she had the tightest cunt Ned had ever ploughed. It was a wet, hot, silky smooth vice that squeezed his shaft like a snake. “You’re so big…” Elia locked eyes with Ned, before leaning down to kiss him tenderly. Ned decided to take the initiative. Taking her ample hips in his hands, he began to slowly thrust up into Elia’s cunt. “Ohhh fuck!” Elia shrieked, placing her hands on Ned’s chest, trying to hold herself up.

 

“Time to pay up, sis.” Ned heard Sarella say as he continued to fuck Elia.

 

The other women melted away. There was only Ned and Elia. He started to fuck her harder, fucking her deeper and deeper.

 

“Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me daddy!” Elia screamed as her large breasts bounced in time with Ned’s thrusts.

 

She was silenced by Ellaria pulling her head in for a deep kiss. It was then that the contractions in Elia’s cunt became much more erratic, her riding lost all rhythm. Her only wish for to pleasure herself and Ned. The sounds of Elia’s climax were muffled by Ellaria’s mouth, but that didn’t stop Elia from trembling, nor did it stop her cunt from trying to squeeze the life from Ned’s cock. She gripped onto her mother for support, she would likely have fallen if Ellaria hadn’t held her up. After minutes of Elia’s shaking as Ned hammered into her cunt, she stilled.

 

“That was a wonderful show.” Ned heard someone say. “I think it’s time we joined in now.”

 

Before Ned knew what was where, he had Elia riding his cock, with Sarella gyrating on one of his hands and Tyene on the other. Both of them cooing as he worked his fingers around the magic spot in their cunts that made them sing.

 

Ellaria and Mellario each were looking after one of his balls, sucking and licking them tenderly as Elia’s arse bounced just above them. Nymeria and Arianne were fucking like mad women next to the group on the bed, with Arianne offering her massive arse up for Nymeria to use and abuse.

 

Obara was the last to find her position. She had walked to the other side of the bed and sat heavily on Ned’s face. He’d been reminded of all the times Ash had loved to sit on his face as Obara was only beaten by Arianne and Ashara for best arse Ned had ever seen.

 

“You like the way he fucks you, whore?” Obara was trying to sound stern as Ned tongue fucked her. She had taken Elia by the throat and kissed her, domineeringly.

 

Ned imagined Obara was used to being the one in control, another quality that reminded him of Ash. Though like Ash, Ned would still overpower her and turn her into a babbling mess when he has done with her.

 

The group remained in their positions for what felt like hours, Ned imagined his bedchambers smelled like a brothel after several orgies. With a great deal of skill, and a good bit of luck, Ned managed to make Sarella and Tyene climax at the same time with his fingers. They and Elia were being held up by Obara, who alternated between kissing all three of them.

 

“FUCK ME DADDY! FUCK YOUR WHORE!!” Elia screamed as she climaxed on his cock for the third time, bathing Mellario and Ellaria’s faces in her pleasure as both women eagerly licked it up.

 

Ned diligently licked along Obara’s cunt, every now and then pushing his tongue into her arsehole. It seemed Obara greatly enjoyed that as she squirted violently on Ned’s face.

 

“Fill that bastard’s cunt with your seed.” Ned heard Arianne moaning to him. “Give her a bastard of her own, then you can fuck the rest of us.”

 

Her words became Ned’s undoing. Thrusting all the way inside Elia’s cunt, Ned gave a long, low howl as he filled her with torrents of his seed. He spent rope after rope after rope deep into her womb. It must have triggered Elia’s own end as she let out a deafening scream and fell, shaking to Ned’s side when he let her go. In a near catatonic state.

 

“Gods!” Arianne laughed as she looked at Elia’s prone form. “Well done Ellie, with that much seed inside you, you’ll go from maiden to mother in one night.”

 

“You’re probably right there, sweetling.” Mellario murmured against Ned’s balls. “Ned’s seed is certainly potent.” She giggled.

 

“As i’m one of the few here who hasn’t fucked him, i’d say it’s my turn now.” Sarella voiced as she dismounted Ned’s hand.

 

“Then I get his face!” Nymeria raised her voice as she pushed Obara off Ned.

 

Eventually, they all found new positions, apart from Ned, who still lay flat on his back, not that he was complaining. Mellario and Ellaria had remained at their positions on his balls, both licking and sucking, lavishing him with their tongues.

 

Obara, having vacated Ned’s mouth, moved to mount his hand opposite Tyene, both women bucking against his fingers with some fervour. Nymeria had replaced her sister riding Ned’s mouth insatiably, grinding against his tongue, moaning his name.

 

Sarella had mounted Ned fully in one smooth motion and had started riding him like a stallion. With great vigour, she gyrated her hips on Ned’s pelvis, driving him deep into the warm embrace of her cunt. She was the second youngest woman there, with skin the same shade as Mellario’s. She had dark brown eyes and short, curly black hair. Her breasts were a similar size to Tyene’s own large breasts, capped with tiny, coal-black nipples. Ned had felt their hardened points with his hands before Obara and Tyene had mounted them.

 

Arianne had yet to join the group, she was off to the side on the bed, greedily licking Ned’s seed from Elia’s cunt. Sarella rode Ned frantically, her tight cunt squeezing around his shaft almost as much as Elia’s did.

 

Sarella was no maid like Elia was. Clearly, she was experienced in the art of lovemaking, something Ned figured out when she began to gyrate her hips in circles around his pelvis. The feeling of his cock moving inside Sarella as she rhythmically moved her hips was maddening, as was the fact that Ned could not touch her with his hands.

 

Nevertheless, having four beautiful sisters using him for their pleasure was certainly something Ned enjoyed. Feeling Nymeria quiver on his tongue, Ned knew she would come to a loud climax soon enough. He’d already done for Tyene quite early on, with Obara not far behind her.

 

After enough times of Ned quickly flicking his tongue against Nymeria’s lower lips, she fell forward, her shaking torso pressed on top of his. Sarella’s heightened moans suggested Nymeria was using her mouth to help Ned pleasure her.

 

“I love fucking northerners…” Sarella moaned with a quiver in her voice. “I love the contrast… Dark on light…” Her moans were pitching ever higher. “Fuck me, Stark! Fuck me!” She was screaming by the time she climaxed around Ned’s throbbing shaft.

 

Ned summoned magical cocks to pleasure Tyene and Obara, so his hands would be free to grab Sarella by her hips and bounce her on his cock. Sarella’s screams of pleasure lost all breath as he fucked it out of her. Ned set a merciless pace, spearing deep into Sarella’s cunt as Tyene and Obara writhed in pleasure on either side of him.

 

Eventually Ned spent his seed inside Sarella, giving her a cream filling for her sisters and Arianne to feast on when she flopped off Ned’s cock bonelessly.

 

“How can you still be hard?!?” Nymeria demanded, seeing Ned’s cock was still standing to attention. Ned tried to answer, but his jaw was stiff from pleasuring them with his tongue, luckily Mellario answered for him.

 

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” She giggled, standing up from her kneeled position at his balls.

 

“If we’re going in ascending order of age, as we seem to be,” Tyene said excitedly. “Then i’m next.”

 

“Oh no no no…” Nymeria placed her hands on her blonde sister’s shoulders, stopping her from mounting Ned’s achingly hard cock. “I seem to recall you bragging that you fucked him a thousand times in Winterfell already.” Nymeria said in an accusatory tone.

 

“You know me, Nym. I exaggerate…” Tyene offered up a disingenuous smile.

 

“Did she?” Nymeria turned to Ned.

 

Ned looked between Tyene and Nymeria. “I dun thnk i-was a thowsun…” His jaw was still sore.

 

“Ha!” Nymeria laughed at Tyene, before she mounted Ned with all the skill and grace of a well-practiced rider.

 

She was the second tallest woman there, with long legs and toned thighs. Like her sisters, Nymeria was blessed with an hourglass figure, large, pert breasts and big, dark eyes. Ned gripped Nymeria’s thighs as he began to thrust up into her cunt. Nymeria, in turn, leaned down, using her plump lips to catch Ned in a sensual embrace.

 

The other women repositioned themselves around them. Obara and Tyene were both lying back on the bed, still enjoying the magical cocks Ned had summoned. Mellario and Arianne were at the foot of the bed, kissing deeply as they pleasured each other, moaning wantonly as they both licked and sucked. Elia and Sarella had both produced mummer’s cocks with straps and harnesses, together they fucked Ellaria, one in her cunt, the other in her arse hole.

 

The sound of Nymeria’s meaty behind loudly clapping against Ned’s thighs as she rode him enticed Ned to give her a few hard spanks.

 

“Gods yes! Spank my arse!” Nymeria cried, starting to twitch as she humped him.

 

“Is that what you like?” Ned growled, his jaw feeling better after having a rest. “Having your arse struck?”

 

“Yes! Yes!” She screamed in answer.

 

“I’ve got an idea.” Ned stated as he lifted Nymeria from his cock, she whined at the loss, but seemingly understood his plan. She spun around and sat heavily on his cock again. This position gave Ned an excellent view of Nymeria’s arse as she rode him.

 

“I’ve always thought my arse was my best feature.” She smiled back at him, naughtily.

 

“It’s certainly a sight to behold.” Ned spanked her hard again, making Nymeria quiver and moan. He wasn’t lying, Nymeria had a waist that was as thin as Elia Sand’s, yet her hips were a good few inches wider, giving her an expansive, meaty behind that Ned didn’t hesitate to take handfuls of.

 

“Are you comfortable?” Nymeria teased.

 

“I’m struggling to think of a time where I was more comfortable.” Ned chuckled as he leaned back onto the soft pillows of the bed, reaching his arms out, groping Tyene’s and Obara’s hefty breasts.

 

Nymeria could only giggle as she leaned forwards, arching her back, making her already magnificent arse become even more enticing. Then she began to ride him. Ned already knew she was a talented cock rider, but he had not yet known the true extent of her skills. Nymeria would shake her arse from side to side, then up and down, making her cheeks clap together pleasantly. She would alternate between throwing her hips in circles, one way, then the other.

 

Ned let out a low groan into Tyene’s mouth as he kissed her, Nymeria had just taken the whole length of Ned’s cock inside her. Nymeria was pressing down on him hard, shaking as she ground her hips against Ned’s pelvis.

 

Feeling her tight wetness growing even tighter around him, Ned knew she was climaxing. He felt a rush of warmth over his cock as Nymeria’s head dropped lower, moaning loudly and shivering as the waves of her climax washed over her.

 

Ned could see Nymeria was resting on her elbows as her arms had lost strength, she was being held up by her knees and Ned’s hands on her hips, keeping her bouncing on him at a constant rate.

 

Hearing a sharp cry, Ned looked around and saw the other woman looking at Mellario and Arianne. They were both sitting up, frantically grinding their cunts together as the sloppily kissed each other, moaning wantonly. Their breasts were so massive that they were brushing against each other. It seemed that Mellario was the first to break between her and her daughter.

 

Ned was unsure if he had ever seen a more erotic sight, than Arianne bringing her beautiful mother to a screaming climax, silencing Mellario with her mouth as she sounded her pleasure for all to hear.

 

Mellario was not the only one to find her end, Ellaria was sobbing in pleasure as she was ravaged by Elia and Sarella, Tyene and Obara were both shivering uncontrollably as they embraced each other.

 

Ned found himself surround by beautiful naked women, all letting him know just how much pleasure they were experiencing. The sights, the sounds, the smells and the feeling all brought Ned to a smashing end, thrusting up to fully encase himself in Nymeria’s womanhood, seeding her womb with his bastards.

 

Ned’s end triggered Nymeria’s cunt again, she passed out from the pleasure, flopping forward down onto the silk sheets of the bed between Ned’s outstretched legs. His cock was so long, that it was still lodged inside Nymeria, even as she fell off his pelvis.

 

“Right.” Ned said as he got up from the bed, catching his second wind. “I grow tired of waiting for you all to ride me, one after the other.” He told the Martell women as they listened intently. “You.” Ned pointed to Ellaria, “On your back, you’re next. Elia, mount her mouth, if you have any of my seed left in that tight cunt of yours, your mother is going to taste it.” He ordered them. “Obara, you’re going to take those mummer’s cocks and fuck Arianne and Mellario.” The thought of the tallest and biggest woman in the room fucking the two shortest was something Ned wanted to see. “Tyene, wake Nymeria up, you and her are going to give Sarella a seeing to.” They all looked at him for a few heartbeats. “Well… Get to it!” Ned ordered.

 

“Yes daddy.” Arianne quickly said, tackling her mother to the bed, straddling her. The rest of them quickly followed on, all saying “Yes daddy.” Before they did so.

 

Obara was the first to begin fucking, Ned watched for a few moments as the warrior woman rutted the mother and daughter together, their delighted, trembling moans making his cock twitch as lust flared within him. Sarella was being held off her feet by Nymeria and Tyene, both were railing her arse-hold and cunt with their mummer’s cocks.

 

Elia had closed her eyes as she moaned, humping her hips on Ellaria’s mouth. Ellaria was reaching her hands up to tweak Elia’s already heard nipples, making the young woman moan. Ned positioned himself at her cunt, then hooked his hands on the insides of Ellaria’s knees, hoisting them up to her large breasts, he was going to fuck her deep tonight.

 

With a loud Phlat!, Ned’s still-hard cock slapped down on Elia’s cunt. It was wet from all the cunts it had been inside so far, and his own seed. Seeing Elia’s tremble a little at the feeling of his cock on her skin made Ned chuckle to himself.

 

“Do you think you’re mother’s ready for me?” Ned asked Elia as he leaned down and slapped Ellaria’s sizeable breasts, making them bounce as she moaned.

 

“I don’t think anyone can be truly ready for you, Prince Stark.” She giggled in response.

 

“We’ll see.”

 

Ned placed the tip of his cock on Ellaria’s cunt lips, then thrust inside her, one inch at a time. The mature woman was groaning beneath him as Ned eased further and further into her molten depths.

 

Seeing them both pressed together, Ned noticed that Ellaria’s skin was a shade or two darker than her daughter’s, though they were both flushed and shiny with sweat, as was everyone else in the room.

 

Enjoying being the one in control of the fucking, Ned ploughed Ellaria with force and determination. Her moans and cries muffled by Elia’s cunt as she pressed down against her mother’s mouth. Though Elia did much to copy her mother, moaning loudly as her cunt was licked.

 

Ellaria’s body was completely open to Ned as he fucked her, light from all the candles and lamps in the room making her dusky skin shine exotically. She was a mother five times over, having birthed four daughters for Oberyn and one for Ned, and her body showed it. Large, round breasts heaved back and forth in time with Ned’s thrusts, capped with small dark nipples that Ned loved to play with.

 

Ned was mounting her like a wolf mounted his bitch, fucking her cunt for all her worth. She found her end even quicker than Elia did, body shaking as she squirted over Ned. Her cunt was a familiar vice that welcomed him home with every caress as it massaged his throbbing shaft.

 

His hand took Elia tightly by the throat and brought her closer, giving her a searing kiss as she begged for more. Growing bolder, Ned slapped her a few times, cracking her head from side to side. Elia’s eyes only rolled back into her head as she climaxed again. Slapping the daughter as he ploughed her mother was something Ned never knew her enjoyed until that moment.

 

To one side of them, Obara’s dominant thrusting brought Arianne and Mellario to screaming ends as they clung to each other, their massive breasts pressing together. Sarella was not far behind them, it was lucky she was being held up by two others, or her legs would have given out and she would have fallen to the floor.

 

The sight of Ellaria’s huge, bouncing bust became too enticing, so Ned leaned down and took one of her hard nipples into his mouth, sucking eagerly. Then he had an idea, noticing Elia’s gyrating hips right by his head.

 

“Turn around Elia.” He ordered.

 

She did so without complaint. Now Ellaria had an even better angle at Elia’s cunt and Ned had a fine view of Elia’s behind, specifically her arsehole.

 

Ned leaned up and circled his tongue around Elia’s tight ring, making her quiver as she rested against the pillows of the bed. She was screaming in pleasure when Ned began to pleasure her arsehole in earnest.

 

Seems she likes her arse being played with just like my Elia, Ned mused happily.

 

He could only imagine what was going through Elia’s mind as he and Ellaria brought her to a violent climax. She was being tongued by her own mother and her mother’s lover, that the both had shared. The thought of it made Ned spend his seed deep inside Ellaria’s womb.

 

“Time for another babe, I think.” He chuckled when he finished depositing his load inside her. Then Ned grabbed Elia by her hair and pulled her head back to his cock as he withdrew from Ellaria and offered it to her, slick and shining with her mother’s pleasure. “Taste your mother on my cock.” He ordered.

 

Elia eagerly began to suck his cock, her deep moans vibrating pleasantly against his cock as she took it deep into her mouth.

 

“Is it, perhaps… My turn now?” Tyene asked in a tone of false innocence, looking up at Ned with her big blue eyes after she saw he was done with Ellaria.

 

“FUCK ME! FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!!!” Tyene screamed into the night sky as she climaxed around his cock again.

 

Ned was savagely ramming into Tyene’s tight cunt with all his might, her legs dangling just off the floor as he fucked her against the windowsill. With one hand, Ned was firmly griping her soft breast, with the other, he’d gathered her hair into his fist and was pulling it to keep her upright.

 

Sarella was kneeling behind Ned, diligently licking his arsehole as the rest of the women were fucking on Ned’s bed, in a writhing mass of tangled limbs and whorish moaning.

 

It had been nearly three moons since Ned had fucked last fucked Tyene in Winterfell, until this moment, Ned hadn’t realised how much his cock had missed her cunt. His balls loudly slapped against Tyene’s cunt again and again as Ned fucked her at blinding speeds.

 

As Tyene moaned and gasped for breath, Ned snaked his hand from her perfect breast up to her throat, gripping it tightly. One of her hands went to Ned’s wrist, trying to pull it away? Or keep it where it was? Ned did not know, yet her squeezed harder as she moaned weekly.

 

“Is this what you wanted, whore?” Ned growled into Tyene’s ear as her thrust particularly deeply into her womanhood, then let go of her throat. That’ll do it. The resulting sound that came from Tyene’s lips as she climaxed was deafening.

 

“AAAARGHHHHHH! FUCK! YES!” She screamed into the night as her torso flopped forward, half out of the window. “I LOVE YOU! BREED ME!! BREED YOUR BASTARD WHORE!!!!”

 

“QUIET WHORE! SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!!” Another voice called back from below. Complete silence fell on room in an instant. While Ned could have heard a pin drop even if the room wasn’t quiet, he definitely could hear it now. The women on the bed looked at Ned and Tyene, Ned looked from Tyene, to the rest, then back to Tyene. The silence was suddenly broken by Tyene shouting back.

 

“WELL SOME OF US ARE GETTING FUCKED BY A HORSE-COCKED STUD!” The room burst into laughter, Mellario nearly choking on the wine she had decided to drink, Nymeria clutching her sides as she rolled on her back.

 

“LEAVE THE HORSES ALONE, GIRL!” Ned heard the man’s voice respond.

 

“I’M NOT FUCKING A HORSE! IDIOT! I’M FUCKING A MAN! A MAN WITH A MASSIVE COCK!”

 

“WELL, DO IT QUIETLY!”

 

“FUCK OFF!” Tyene was never one to mince words.

 

“FUCK YOU!”

 

“YOU’LL HAVE TO GET IN LINE!!” The room burst into laughter again as Ned carried Tyene away from the window, deciding that letting her get into a shouting match with only the gods knew who was a poor idea, especially when she was naked and half leaning out of his window.

 

Sarella shuffled on her knees behind them as Ned carried Tyene over to a table and dropped her face down on it. He was still buried up to the hilt inside Tyene and continued to fuck her vigorously as Sarella started licking his arse again.

 

“Gods, you’re so much better than Darren.” Tyene moaned delivered a hard spank to Tyene’s ample rear end, watching it wobble deliciously.

 

“Who’s Darren?” Ned asked, but Tyene was too far gone to do anything but moan.

 

“He’s one of the handsome young men Tyene shares her bed with on occasion.” Sarella pulled back to answer, before returning to her ministrations.

 

“One of?” Ned chuckled.

 

“Only one or two…” Tyene whined.

 

“Or four… or five…” Arianne laughed behind them on the bed, before Obara stuffed her face back into Ellaria’s arse.

 

“You’re one to talk.”

 

“And none of them hold a candle to you, Ned.” Tyene’s moans reached a higher pitch as she held the table edge in a death grip.

 

“Glad to hear it.” Ned smiled as he held her hips firmly in his hands, he pulled Tyene’s wide hips back to meet his thrusts. The pale, fleshy globes of Tyene’s ample arse cheeks rippled and undulated at the impacts of Ned’s hips against them, making loud clapping sounds that echoed through the room.

 

As Tyene was the fifth woman Ned was fucking in quick succession, he was beginning to wear a little thin. Yet, he still kept up a merciless pace, fucking Tyene to within an inch of her life as gasped and shook through another climax.

 

“Obara! Come here and keep your sister quiet.” Ned barked an order. The tall, muscled woman quickly obeyed, extracting herself from Elia and Nymeria and walking over to Ned. At six feet tall and seemingly built mostly of muscle, she dwarfed most of the women in the room, but Ned was still taller than her by half a foot. He gripped her by her light brown hair, pulling her in to dominate her mouth with his own. “Lie back on the table.” Ned growled, when he pulled apart from her.

 

Obara looked at him with anger in her eyes before she acquiesced. As she lay back, Ned admired Obara’s truly titanic breasts, enough to match Arianne’s magnificent bust. Obara smothered Tyene’s face with her breasts, Tyene quickly accepted, wantonly sucking on the vast amounts of tit-flesh presented to her.

 

Soon enough, Ned felt his end fast approaching. Wanting to spend more time in Tyene’s cunt, Ned reduced his fucking to a snail’s pace, languidly easing his cock in and out of Tyene, one inch at a time. Sarella still tonguing his arsehole as if her life depended on it, barely even coming up for breath.

 

When Ned’s cock was fully encased in Tyene’s tight cunt, he gave her all he had. He painted her inner walls white with his seed. For what felt like an hour, Ned gave Tyene the breeding she had been begging for.

 

After Ned was done, he withdrew for Tyene and a white waterfall flowed from her gaping cunt. Grabbing Sarella’s head, Ned forced her in to clean up Tyene, the second youngest Sand Snake there did so gladly.

 

With Tyene passed out on the table and Ned feeling slightly light-headed, he walked over to a pitcher of water and drank greedily, very grateful for the cool liquid after the physical exertions he’d just put himself through.

 

Gods… I’m not as young as I was… The thought was not a pleasant one, but it was no less true.

 

“So I imagine you think i’ll just crawl on my knees for you like the rest of those weaklings.” Obara cleared her voice behind him, Ned turned to see Obara looking up at him defiantly, her arms crossed. Something that certainly enhanced her magnificent bosom to his gaze.

 

Ned looked her up and down. Like the other female members of her family, Obara had an hourglass figure, with a thin waist and wide hips. Any amount of fat that she might have had on her body was very clearly concentrated on her stupendous breasts and muscular arse. Her arms and legs were thick with corded muscle, her hands were large and calloused, the hands of a warrior. Obara’s bronze skin was flawless, but for the odd, small scar here and there. She had a small silver ring piercing her belly button, nestled nicely amongst Obara’s very well toned abs.

 

Obara was built like a warrior goddess, yet her curves seemed to belong to a fertility goddess. It was a strange dichotomy of form that just made her all the more enticing.

 

Her form reminded Ned of the descriptions his ancestor Brandon ‘The Lusty Wolf’ Stark, an old King of Winter, had made on the natives of an island made up entirely of warrior women he claimed to have visited on one of his many travels. If the Amazons of Themyscira ever truly existed, doubtless they would have readily excepted Obara into their ranks.

 

Her face was indeed beautiful, just less so than the other members of her family, unfortunately. Ned imagined she must have felt self conscious of her looks when surrounded by her more traditionally feminine family.

 

Ned new something of that pain. His older brother Brandon had always been taller, better looking, more confident. Even twenty years after Brandon’s death and with near a dozen beautiful women in his bed, Ned could still feel lesser when compared to Brandon.

 

“If you do not wish for me to fuck you, then why are you here?” Ned asked her, pitcher still in hand.

 

“I’ll be the one doing the fucking, Stark.” Obara pointed her chin up at him. “There’s never been a man that could make me submit, and you’re no different.”

 

“Hardly seems fair after i’ve just been with five other women.”

 

“If you wanted to win, you should have prepared better.” Obara smirked.

 

“So this is about winning.” Ned chuckled. “What are the rules? If I am to try and make you submit-“

 

“You will fail.”

 

“I must know your limits.”

 

“The only limit I will place on you is that no blood can be drawn. Nor will sadistic acts be tolerated.”

 

“Agreeable enough… So, shall we begin?” All the others were watching them from the bed with rapt attention, anticipating the show they were about to get.

 

Obara looked Ned up and down, then nodded and uncrossed her arms, looking up at Ned in defiance, daring him to make the first move.

 

So he did.

 

Ned dropped the pitcher from one hand, catching it with the other and backhanded Obara hard enough to send her to the floor, her cheek stinging red.

 

“Gods!” Ned heard Arianne gasp. “We may have finally found a man to best her.”

 

Obara let out an enraged grunt as she tried to get to her hands and knees, Ned casually drank from his pitcher as he placed his foot on her meaty arse and pushed her down again.

 

“I didn’t say you could get up.” Ned stated as he put the pitcher back on the table beside him. Then, reaching out his hand, Ned summoned Mellario’s magical whip to him. “This won’t leave any mark on you.” Ned said as he unfurled the whip. “But it might sting.” With a smile, he cracked the whip across her back.

 

“Ah!” Obara cried out, shifting to the side and stretching out on the floor in shock. Ned heard the women on the bed gasping and giggling.

 

“You’ll have to try harder than that to break me, bastard.” Obara breathed heavily as she tired to get up again, but Ned saw she was trying to hide a smile. She cried out again when Ned brought the whip down on her a second time, her skin still completely unmarked by it.

 

“I hear you like to use a whip…” Ned chuckled. “Let’s see how much you enjoy being on the receiving end.”

 

“Ah! Fuck!” Obara gasped as Ned whipped her again, her back arching as she started to shake.

 

“Around the room on your hands and knees. Now!” Ned cracked her with the whip again. Obara grunted as she shuffled on her hands and knees around the edges of the room, Ned giving her a tickle on her arse with the whip when he thought she was going too quickly.

 

“How do you like being the one crawling around?” Arianne laughed as she watched Obara’s submission. Ned cracked the whip around Obara’s throat, the whip wrapped tightly around it. Obara tried to loosen it with her fingers.

 

“No.” Ned stopped her. “I’ll take it off when we get to the chair.” Ned lead her across the room to a big wooden chair against the wall, almost like she was his dog. Only Obara was being choked by her collar, breathing deeply when Ned finally removed it after he sat on the chair. “Now that i’ve softened you up, you’re going to suck my cock until I tell you to stop.”

 

Ned didn’t even give her time to answer before he shoved his member down her throat. He’d taken a tight grip of Obara’s hair, he was using it to motion her head up and down his cock, not caring for Obara’s chocking and gagging. Steadily, relentlessly, he used Obara’s throat as his personal relief.

 

Either from pleasure at being used, or from lack of air, Obara’s eyes rolled back into her head as her body began to quiver. She was gagging around his cock but Ned kept pushing further inside her.

 

To Obara’s credit, she didn’t even resist, she was completely limp in Ned’s hands. Eventually Ned pushed deep enough that his balls were resting on Obara’s chin, her face was red as drool spilled from her mouth.

 

“Even I couldn’t take all of it down my throat the first time.” Mellario half whispered, clearly amazed at the display before her. Withdrawing from her mouth, Ned slowly pulled Obara to the tip of his cock, it felt like Obara was trying to suck his soul out through his cock.

 

“Ggha…” she gasped as Ned fully withdrew his cock from her mouth. Her eyes were heavily lidded as she panted, drool falling from her mouth. He gripped his wet cock and began to smack Obara’s upturned face with it.

 

“Time for the main event now.” Ned raised from the chair, picking Obara up with him as he carried her over to the table he’d fucked Tyene on. Ned flopped her down onto her back and positioned himself between her thick, muscled thighs, spreading them wide. “Time to properly break you in.” Ned laughed as he plunged his cock into Obara’s cunt.

 

“Ahhh! FuCK!!” Obara squealed in a girlish fashion as Ned plundered her tight cunt and his cock kissed the entrance too her womb. Ned let out a deep grunt as he hammered Obara’s cunt with all his might, her legs twitching and thrashing helplessly around as Ned grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. This gave Ned a perfect view of Obara’s massive breasts bouncing around in all their glory. Ned gritted his teeth as he felt Obara’s vice-like cunt clamp down on his throbbing shaft as it plundered her depths.

 

“You AH!… think… this is… hard?…” Obara panted, trying to retain the composure she was clearly on the precipice of losing. “Boys half your age have fucked me bett-ahhhAHHAHHAHH!!!” Ned decided Obara had talked enough, and started fucking her even harder, the table began to shake and creak beneath them under the force of Ned’s thrusts. “AHAA! AHH! FUCK!” Obara was half way between panting and screaming.

 

Ned created bindings of ice to keep her wrists pinned to the table while allowing his hands to be free.

 

“Do you submit?” Ned asked Obara, mockingly as he pinched her nipples with his hands, making her quiver.

 

“Ah! Fuck! Never!” Obara’s body betrayed her, as her eyes rolled back and her limbs shook uncontrollably, she was brought to a mind-breaking climax. The feeling of Obara’s already extremely tight cunt clamping down on his cock almost made Ned pass out. He smacked her face.

 

“Do you submit?” Then again.

 

“Never…” Obara moaned in response, somewhat less defiantly than before. Ned slowed his thrusts as he continued slapping Obara.

 

“Sumbit!” SMACK

 

“No…”

 

“Sumbit!” SMACK

 

“Please…”

 

“Submit!” SMACK

 

“please fuck me…” She barely whispered, Ned knew he had won.

 

“What was that?” Ned demanded, gripping her face and pulling her up.

 

“Please fuck me.” Obara said this time.

 

“Louder.” Ned demanded.

 

“Please fuck me!”

 

“Louder!”

 

“PLEASE FUCK ME, DADDY! I LOVE YOUR COCK!!” Ned rammed into her with full force, the table nearly being knocked over by his thrusts.  “AH! AH! YES! FUCKING FILL ME!!” Obara’s legs locked tightly around Ned’s waist, trying to keep him deep inside her.

 

“Beg me to fuck your arse.” Ned grunted as he groped Obara’s massive bust.

 

“Please take my arse!” Obara screamed. “Please fuck it! No one’s ever been there!” Ned wrapped his hand around Obara’s throat, chocking her as he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear.

 

“No…” he said. “I like your cunt too much.” Ned glanced over at the other women as he ploughed Obara, he was surprised to see they were all watching him in awe.

 

“No one’s ever broken Obara before.” Nymeria murmured, her eyes locked on Obara’s pleasure addled face.

 

“Fuck me Ned!” Obara cried out. “I love your cock!! BREAK ME! BREAK ME!” As if by design, when Obara wailed that, the table Ned was fucking her on broke, they both landed on a heap in the floor, thought that didn’t stop Obara from demanding Ned carry on fucking her. Their audience on the bed found it to be very funny.

 

“You silly old dog,” Elia laughed. “she wanted you to break her, not the table.” Before long, Ned was filling Obara’s womb with his thick seed as he pushed deep inside the warrior woman.

 

“Fuck!” Ned grunted as his throbbing cock filled Obara, most likely giving her a bastard of her own to raise. By the time Ned realised that Obara had passed out in pleasure, he was nearly done filling her womb with enough of his seed to give her a dozen babes.

 

Ned got to his feet, weary after a night of fucking beautiful, energetic women. His cock was ready for a rest as it hung limp and soft.

 

“Ahem” Arianne coughed. “I believe my mother and I wish to take our turns with you together.”

 

And just like that, Ned was rock hard again.

 

“Come here and give my daughter the fucking she’s been waiting for.” Mellario said.

 

Ned was almost taken aback by how candidly she said it. Though he shouldn’t have, considering what they’d all been doing all night. Mellario was sitting behind Arianne on the large bed, the others had spread around the room, kissing and fucking as they pleased.

 

“Yes!” Arianne giggled. “Give me your seed.”

 

“Doesn’t Arianne have a gorgeous body?” Mellario purred, running her small hands up and down Arianne’s ridiculously curvy body. “The Goddess Rhorne herself couldn’t match my daughter’s beauty.” Ned had only a passing familiarity with the fertility goddess the Rhoynar worshiped, as Mellario was an ardent follower of hers. Ned found himself unable to disagree with Mellario’s assessment. Both Arianne and Mellario were exotic beauties. The were the same height, but Arianne’s breasts were bigger, her waist and thighs a little thinner though Mellario’s arse was larger. Both had pierced nipples and belly buttons. They both had breasts near a match for Cat’s and arses that were near a match to Ash’s. They were both beautiful with dark, sultry eyes. Ned stood in the middle of the room and took in their beauty. "He loves your melons, sweetling" Mellario giggled, cupping them, offering them up to Ned’s gazed. "As well he should. I’ll have to introduce you to Catelyn Stark one day… Why, the two of you together could kill a man with your tits." Mellario laughed as she pinched Arianne’s large, dark nipples as Arianne bit her lip, holding Ned’s gaze.

 

"Yes, they would make a gorgeous pair. In who’s company, you would not be found lacking." Ned chuckled, devouring Arianne’s body with his eyes.

 

“Flatterer” Mellario said in mock modesty. “But my daughter wants to have you first.” she continued in a husky moan, spreading Arianne’s legs apart with her own legs, giving Ned unfiltered access to Arianne’s bare cunt.

 

“I’ve been a good girl all night.” Arianne said in a voice of false innocence. “Please give me your big fat cock.” She begged.

 

"As you wish.” Ned smiled.

 

Ned strode over to the bed, mounting it, before he spread Arianne’s knees further apart with his hands. Arianne bit her lower lip, moaning as she stretched to accommodate Ned’s desires. Ned could not help but marvel at Arianne’s beautiful, completely bare cunt.

 

From the wetness around it, Ned could definitely tell that her arousal was extreme, it was already leaking her pleasure onto the bed.

 

Gripping his cock with one hand, Ned angled it to the entrance of Arianne’s womanhood, teasing her pink, trembling fold. Mellario pulled Arianne into a heated kiss as Ned teased her cunt, the sight of it nearly ended Ned right there.

 

Leaning over Arianne’s body, Ned took one of her dark nipples into his mouth, sucking greedily. Then continued like this for some time, Mellario and Ned using their tongues on Arianne, making her moan and quiver.

 

In the rest of the room, the submissive dam had apparently been broken for Obara, she was being ravaged in every hole at once by Nymeria, Sarella and Tyene using mummer’s cocks as Ellaria and Elia rubbed their cunts together beside them. Nymeria had even produced a flat wooden paddle that she used to beat Obara’s muscular arse with.

 

Eventually, Ned decided to switch women and leaned forward to dominate Mellario’s mouth with his own. After pulling away from Mellario, Ned’s gaze met Arianne’s dark eyes. His cock was resting against the entrance to her cunt, her massive, round breasts rose and fell, shaking with Arianne’s every breath.

 

“Perhaps you need some help.” Mellario giggled, her arm snaked out from behind Arianne and took hold of Ned’s cock. She pressed the tip into Arianne’s wet, warm cunt as she whispered utter filth into her daughter’s ear.

 

Ned began too ease his throbbing member inside Arianne, as he looked directly into Mellario’s eyes. The familiar tight walls of Arianne’s cunt welcomed him home, sucking him deeper inside her. Arianne rested her head on her mother’s pillowy breasts as she whined.

 

"Gods, I wish I could have seen how you took it the first time." Mellario nuzzled against Arianne's dark hair.

 

“She nearly passed out.” Ned chuckled, easing his cock a few inches deeper as Arianne’s willing hole completely surrendered to his cock, begging him to stay.

 

"I’m a small woman, and your cock’s massive." Arianne whinned into Mellario’s bosom as Ned penetrated her completely.

 

“Don’t worry, your mother had difficulty in the beginning too.” Ned withdrew from Arianne and thrust back inside her, making the Dornish princess shiver in delight. Like Obara, she hooked her legs behind Ned’s waist, trying to keep him inside her as she clutched Mellario’s arms.

 

"Fuck… I love you..." Arianne panted. Ned kissed her again, sliding his cock deep inside her, all the way to the hilt. “Oh gods! Fuck!”

 

Arianne trembled as her cunt clamped down on Ned’s shaft, putting glorious pressure on Ned’s cock. Ned watched as Mellario began to run her hands up and down Arianne’s body, pinching Arianne’s nipples as she kissed her neck.

 

“You’re so beautiful.” Mellario moaned as she pleasured Arianne.

 

Ned watched the tender embrace of mother and daughter, stopping for a moment to think about what might happen if someone were to walk in and see what they were all doing together. The moment quickly passed when Arianne pulled on his hips, telling him to keep fucking her.

 

He happily did so.

 

Arianne began to rock her hip’s against him, as she skin began to flush, Ned could tell she was quickly approaching her end. He hammered away at Arianne’s love tunnel, feeling the tight walls of her cunt gripping and massaging his cock, coaxing his seed into her fertile womb.

 

“Do you like how your mother’s lover feels inside you?” Mellario teased Arianne, lightly biting her earlobe as she continued tweaking Arianne’s nipples. “Do you like his massive cock?”

 

“Yes!” Arianne cried. “I love his massive cock! Fuck me, Ned!”

 

"You want him to give you a child, don't you?"

 

“Yes…” Arianne moaned, “He’s given you two bastards, I want one.”

 

Ned was surprised to learn that Arianne knew who really fathered Mellario’s youngest two children. But that did not deter him as he continued to plough her cunt as he often had over that last two weeks.

 

They found an easy rhythm as their frenzied thrusts met in the middle. Ned repeatedly drove his cock right up to the hilt inside Arianne, thoroughly enjoying ravaging her while her mother helped him. Arianne could do naught but moan and coo under his assault, begging for more.

 

Arianne’s climax had been building for some time, Ned knew. This time, he wouldn’t pull away. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her massive breasts press against his chest as he allowed the full force of Arianne’s climax to rip the whole way through her.

 

“AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHH! YESSS!!! FUCK!!!!” Arianne screamed as she shook violently in an end that was weeks in the making. Many times Ned had fucked to almost the point of her satisfaction, before pulling away and leaving her frustrated.

 

No more.

 

Feeling her come undone around him for the first time brought Ned to his own end, filling Arianne’s womb with his seed as she quaked in his lap, begging for him to give her a thousand bastards. Ned spread Arianne’s cunt wide open as she quivered in his arms, thrusting away as he deposited rope after rope of his seed deep within her.

 

She was sweaty and still shaking as Ned let go of her. Arianne flopped heavily back down onto the bed, seemingly unable to think, let alone move from her position.

 

“Well that was certainly entertaining.” Mellario giggled as she crawled over her daughter’s catatonic form on the bed, leaning down low to give Ned’s still-hard cock a few licks. “How this cock manages to stay hard, i’ll never know.”

 

“The Trial of Winter.” Ned explained. “I am more than man.”

 

“Can’t argue with that.” Mellario smirked as she licked his cock again, tasting her daughter. “But I do believe I am the last woman here you haven’t fucked tonight.”

 

“Then let’s fix that.” Ned smiled. “Hands and knees.” Mellario simply smiled and followed her orders, turning over so she was right on top of her still-quivering daughter. She leaned down to lick Arianne’s cunt as Ned’s seed flowed from it. “There’s the arse I remember.” Ned smiled as Mellario gently shook her hips from side-to-side for his amusement.

 

“It misses you so,” Mellario moaned as Ned gripped it’s meaty cheeks in his hands. “but my cunt wants you more.”

 

"As you wish, princess." Ned smiled, then thrust the full length of his shaft, the whole way into Mellario’s cunt. She’d taken him hundreds of times before, but it always felt like the first time when he entered her again.

 

Mellario always loved when he took her like a wolf, she said it awoke something primal in him. She let out a needy whine as Ned ploughed her roughly from behind, filling every inch of her cunt with his cock. Spanking her lovely round, dusky arse-cheeks with his hands, Ned fucked her slowly, enjoying the extraordinary sensations of Mellario’s cunt.

 

Her head dropped low, to her daughter’s arse as the pleasure of Ned taking her swelled within Mellario. She giggled and moaned as Ned filled her cunt with every thrust, her sounds muffled by her daughter’s massive arse.

 

"Fuck, Ned! You’re so good!" Mellario whimpered, pressing her hips back to meet Ned’s thrusts.

 

“It’d be fitting to give both you and your daughter a bastard on the same night.” Ned chuckled as her ploughed Mellario.

 

“Yes! Give me another bastard!” Mellario moaned in response, her body trembling in anticipation for the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching.

 

Her cunt walls tightened around Ned as Mellario began to scream. He fucked her at a blinding pace, the whole way through Mellario’s violent climax. Ned’s balls loudly clapped against Mellario’s cunt as the pressure built within his cock.

 

Ned’s only thoughts were of impregnating the woman in front of him as he stuffed his cock into her womanhood and let forth a tidal wave of his seed, flooding her womb.

 

After moments of filling the quivering Mellario completely, Ned fell to the side on the bed. Sleep was about to take him, when he felt a tongue licking his limp cock.

 

“…I thought, perhaps, you could take my arse too?” Elia said between licks.

 

Ned sighed…

 

That night, he took them all in every position, every combination, every woman, every hole. Multiple times.

 

They all surrendered to Ned, taking pleasure in their exquisite bodies, and giving it back in more than equal measures.

 

As dawn broke with the morning sun, Ned rose from the mass of sweaty limbs and curvy bodies. He untangled himself carefully, trying not to disturb the women as he crept out of his bed chambers.

 

Ned turned to survey his conquests from the previous night. All the women were fast asleep, the same way he’d left them the night before:

 

Bowed…

 

Bent…

 

Broken…

 

Ned walked out of his bed chamber and shrugged into a robe. Dawn’s golden light shone through an open window onto his desk and the Valyrian Steel dagger that lay atop it. He took the dagger in hand, studying it. Littlenger’s blade, won by Tyrion Lannister in a tourney wager, sent to murder his wives. Did the dwarf give his sister the blade? All he had to connect the Lannisters to the attack was the blade.

 

Then there was the murder of Jon Arryn, if they could order the death of his wives, they could order the death of the Hand, but the truth of Jon’s death remained as clouded to him as when he had started. Lord Stannis had not returned to King’s Landing for the tourney. Lysa Arryn held her silence behind the high walls of the Eyrie. The squire was dead, his men were still searching the whorehouses. What did he have but Robert’s bastard?

 

That the armorer’s sullen apprentice was the Robert’s son, Ned had no doubt. The Baratheon look was stamped on his face, in his jaw, his eyes, that black hair. Renly was too young to have fathered a boy of that age, Stannis too cold and proud in his honor. Gendry had to be Robert’s.

 

Yet knowing all that, what had he learned? The king had other baseborn children scattered throughout the Seven Kingdoms. All who knew Robert, knew it. Ned remembered Robert’s first child, a daughter born in the Vale when Robert was scarcely more than a boy himself. A sweet little girl; the young lord of Storm’s End had doted on her. He used to make daily visits to play with the babe, long after he had lost interest in the mother. Ned often went along for company. The girl would be in her early twenties now, he realized; older than Robert had been when he fathered her. A strange thought.

 

Cersei could not have been pleased by her husband’s by-blows, yet in the end it mattered little whether the king had one bastard or a hundred. None of them could threaten Robert’s trueborn children...

 

His musings were ended by a soft rap on his door. “A man to see you, my lord,” Perkins called. “He won’t give his name.”

 

“Send him in,” Ned said, wondering.

 

The visitor was a stout man in cracked, mud-caked boots and a heavy brown robe of the coarsest roughspun, his features hidden by a cowl, his hands drawn up into voluminous sleeves. Yet Ned knew his smell anywhere.

 

“Lord Varys.” Ned said, his features growing stern.

 

“Prince Stark,” Varys said politely, seating himself, drawing back his cowl. “I wonder if I might trouble you for a drink?”

 

Ned filled two cups with summerwine and handed one to Varys. “Why are you here?” Straight and to the point.

 

“I will not keep you long, my lord.” Varys answered. “I am sure your numerous lady friends will not object.” He giggled. “If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders. But there are things you must know. You are the King’s Hand, and the king is a fool.” The eunuch’s cloying tones were gone; now his voice was thin and sharp as a whip. “Your friend, I know, yet a fool nonetheless... and doomed, unless you save him.”

 

Ned shifted in his seat, fearing he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. “What sort of doom?”

 

“The same fate as Jon Arryn.” The eunuch answered. As Ned suspected. “I only found out earlier today. The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, clear and sweet as water, and it leaves no trace. I begged Lord Arryn to use a taster, in this very room I begged him, but he would not hear of it. Only one who was less than a man would even think of such a thing, he told me.”

 

Ned had to know the rest. “Who gave him the poison?”

 

“Some dear sweet friend who often shared meat and mead with him, no doubt. Oh, but which one? There were many such. Lord Arryn was a kindly, trusting man.” The eunuch sighed. “There was one boy. All he was, he owed Jon Arryn, but when the widow fled to the Eyrie with her household, he stayed in King’s Landing and prospered. It always gladdens my heart to see the young rise in the world.” The whip was in his voice again, every word a stroke. “He must have cut a gallant figure in the tourney, him in his bright new armor, with those crescent moons on his cloak. A pity he died so untimely, before you could talk to him...”

 

Ned felt half-poisoned himself. “The squire,” he said. “Ser Hugh.” Wheels within wheels within wheels. Ned’s head was pounding. “So Hugh poisoned Jon Arryn, who ordered him to do it?”

 

“I cannot say for certain, my prince.” Varys answered, rising from his seat.

 

“Of course not, because that would be too easy… Why? Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for near two decades. Why kill him now?”

 

“He was beginning to ask questions,” Varys said, slipping out the door, leaving Ned to his thoughts. He picked up the dagger again, spinning it in his hand.

 

Arianne limped out of his bedchambers naked, looking like a whore after a very busy night. Quietly padding of over to Ned, she crawled under the desk, opened Ned’s robe and began sucking his cock.

 

“Some people like to say good morning first.” Ned looked down at her.

 

Arianne seemingly ignored his words as she sleepily brushed her dark curls behind one ear, keeping her head bobbing up and down at a languid pace. Ned leaned back in his chair, gazing off into the dawn sky, wondering if it was even possible win in King’s Landing.

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

It had been nearly a month since he and his family had got on their ship to leave King’s Landing. Doran awoke early in the morning in his cabin on the top deck. Having to use his chair meant that stairs were certainly difficult to navigate. Turning over, he saw Mellario was absent from their bed again. The thought excited him to no end.

 

He had just spent a month in King’s Landing watching his wife get utterly destroyed by Ned Stark, again and again. Of all the men Mellario had taken to her bed, Ned Stark was the one Doran most enjoyed watching plough his wife.

 

After Ned had won the tourney, Mellario had started forbidding Doran from even watching, saying that he would have to settle to her descriptions after the event. That just made it even more satisfying for Doran when she made him climax as she told him what happened.

 

The reason for Mellario’s absence in their bed on the voyage was due to a game they liked to play. Mellario would chose someone on the ship and fuck them every night during the voyage. Doran would have to guess who it was.

 

So far, Doran had been unsuccessful in his choices. He had even gone so far as to go to Arianne and ask her if she had any notion as to who her mother was spending time with. Alas, judging from the noises coming from her cabin, Doran had to guess that like her mother, Arianne had taken a lover. Not something Doran wanted to be aware of.

 

Calling Areo to help him into his chair, Doran went out onto the deck, where he saw all the female members of his family on the Galley leaning over the side, vomiting into the sea.

 

“Must be a terrible bought of seasickness for them all to get it.” Doran said to Oberyn, who was leaning against the mast, watching the women.

 

“None of them have been seasick before…” Oberyn noted. Mellario, having heard them, turned around. Even looking a little pale, she was the most beautiful woman Doran had ever seen.

 

“Is he the tall oarman with a shaved head and hooked nose?” Doran asked her as she walked over to them.

 

“No. No…” Mellario smiled in response. “They’re actually the shortest lover I’ve ever had.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being short!” Arianne called over to them, before she went back to being sick over the side.

 

“I’ve never seen you be seasick before.” Doran said, reaching out to take his wife’s hand. “Perhaps it was something you ate in King’s Landing.”

 

“No… It wasn’t what we ate…” Mellario told him. “My love… We have a surprise for you…” she smiled, placing a hand on her stomach.

 

“…We?” Doran asked, confused.

 

“Yes. We.” Mellario affirmed.

 

Doran looked to the women of his family who had been vomiting over the side of the ship. All eight of them were looking at him, with their hands on their stomachs…

Notes:

And that’s chapter 14!

I just wrote 26k words for you lot, hope you enjoy them.

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Chapter 20: Chapter 15

Ned stirred awake as dawn’s golden light streamed in through the half-closed shutters of his bedchamber. Grunting as he turned his head to the side, Ned opened his eyes to see Triss to his left, with her face buried in the pillows of their bed. For a moment, his eye followed the ample curves of her sleeping form appreciatively, before turning to his other side where Yennefer was decidedly absent from the bed.

 

Ned raised his head to look about his bedchambers for his raven-haired lover, but his ears found her before his eyes did. Yennefer was moving parchment and muttering to herself in Ned’s solar. Content to leave her as she was, Ned rested his head back on his pillows. Thoughts of the night before came to him, not of Triss and Yennefer, but of Yoren, the Night’s Watchman who’d told him what his wives had done. Taking the queen’s brother hostage was certain to cause issues. He only hoped that it would be a secret for a while longer.

 

Turning to Triss again, Ned was all too aware of the growing hardness between his legs that came with most mornings. He pulled their blanket down, exposing both his and Triss’s nude bodies. Ned marvelled at her smooth, unblemished skin and her bright red hair, still in a messy bun from the night before, when he had taken both Triss and Yennefer to bed again.

 

In the absence of his wives, it had become an common occurrence. Yennefer had sometimes joked that he had lookalike replacements for his wives when he was apart from them.

 

Ned grinned to himself as he reached across and took two handfuls of Triss’s fleshy, freckled arse, slowly spreading the pale globes of flesh. After all these years of Triss being one of his lovers, he had incredibly intimate knowledge of her body. All of it’s nooks and crannies, where to press to make her sing…

 

Like most Mages, Triss had beauty that could make men weep. She had wide, child-bearing hips and a tiny waist, giving her a gorgeous, heart shaped arse. Her round arse was balanced out by her sizeable chest, breasts that Ned had used many times.

 

Still half asleep, Ned rose to his knees on the bed and stuffed his face into Triss’s arse. She smelled divine, there was enough there that Ned could probably dine on her thick arse for the rest of the day . Ned’s hungry, eager kisses soon had Triss moaning into her pillow and shifting in place, arching her back so Ned would have greater access.

 

“Now that’s how I love to be woken up.” Triss moaned, lifting her head from the pillows before letting it fall back down. Ned could see Triss biting down on her lip and clutching the bedsheets as he worked his tongue over her arse, and a number of fingers into her sopping cunt.

 

“Well, after your performance last night, you deserve a reward.” Ned chuckled, before going back to pleasure her.

 

“Damn right, I do…” she moaned again. Triss had been a real animal in bed the night before. She kept begging Ned to give her his seed, he half suspected that she wished to have a child from him, like Yennefer and Sabrina had. Ned was all too happy to give her one… or two… or more…

 

A satisfied grin spread across Triss’s face as she began to shiver gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white. She pushed back to meet his fingers, mindlessly lifting her hips right off the bed and leaving a puddle of her pleasure where she had been lying on her belly. Ned could feel her cunt throbbing around his fingers as he worked them deeper inside her.

 

“You feel so good Ned…” Triss crooned, shifting her hips from side to side. Ned easily kept pace with her, slipping his fingers in and out of her cunt with well-practiced ease. Ned chuckled to himself as he carefully slid his fingers in and out of her while she whimpered in delight, quivering around him.

 

Triss knew what to do. She didn’t even have to be guided up onto her knees. Ned, grinning widely, slapped his palm across Triss’s freckled arse, delighting in how it wobbled. She whined in response, biting her lip, her face only half-buried in the pillow. Ned struck her again, then again.

 

When he grew tired of turning her arse as red as her hair, Ned positioned himself behind Triss, lining his throbbing cock towards her cunt. Taking a firm hold of her hips, Ned slammed every inch of his cock directly into her womb. Triss let out a half-scream, muffled by the pillow, as she quivered around his cock.

 

“Mine.” Ned growled, pulling back and slamming his cock inside her again.

 

The collision of his hips against Triss’s arse sent ripples along her flesh. Her cunt clenched around him as her fingers curled into their silk sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Ned continued to pound away as Triss whined and trembled, his balls bouncing against her thick thighs as they clapped together.

 

“Harder!” Triss mewled, she was gripping the pillow and thrusting back to meet Ned’s cock.

 

Ned gave a deep growl as he pushed Triss harder down onto the bed, leaning over her, thrusting deeper into her cunt. He was dominating her body with his own, as he had thousands of times before. He had a thought.

 

“I think it’s time I used some of those skills you’ve been teaching me.” Ned chuckled, Triss could only moan in response.

 

Triss had been teaching him telekinesis recently, through diligent practice, Ned had found a way to use that magic to pleasure a woman. All it took was some concentration and a little touch over her cunt, and Triss was brought to a screaming, quivering wreck as she climaxed around him, again and again.

 

Ned was glad for the pillow, or they might have heard Triss all the way back in Winterfell. There was a certain spot inside a woman’s cunt that would turn their legs boneless and their minds blank with pleasure.

 

Ned knew that by focusing his telekinesis on that spot, he could instantly turn a woman into a quivering puddle of pleasure. Seeing such a powerful mage be brought to such an undignified position almost made Ned spend himself right there.

 

“Gods…” Triss moaned, weakly, after some time for her to recover. Ned had slowed his thrusts to a crawl, easing in and out of her slowly. “That was…”

 

“Better than before?” Ned leaned down and thrust deep inside her again.

 

“Yes!” Triss nearly squawked. “Yes! You’re getting better and better at that… You must have an excellent teacher.” She laughed, Ned joined her.

 

“I feel if you had been one of my teachers, you would have been my favourite.” He leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder, eliciting a giggle.

 

“I feel,” Triss breathed as Ned filled her again. “If I had been one of your teachers, you would have spent more time fucking me over your desk, than learning.”

 

“Likely.” Ned laughed in response. “Are you ready to continue?”

 

“Even more so.” Triss grinned up at him, she then spoke a small incantation and a blue, ethereal cock appeared above Ned’s own, a pretty exact copy. It was certainly a strange feeling. “You’ll feel everything that cock does.” Triss reached back to stroke it, proving her point. “Now you can take both my holes at once!”

 

Ned angled both of the cocks towards her eager holes, then thrust. If Triss’s head hadn’t been buried in the pillow, her screams would have woken up the whole castle. Ned let out a deep grunt as the feelings of her spasming cunt and arse enveloped him.

 

It was a completely new feeling, taking both of her holes at once. The sensations were doubled. Ned could feel her cunt and arse clamping down on his throbbing cocks with wanton desire, begging him for his seed.

 

Ned quickly found his rhythm again, pumping away ad the red haired mage’s holes, filling her to bursting point as she shook and moaned around him. She was his, to use as he pleased, mewling happily as he rained blows down on her arse-cheeks again.

 

“This was a great idea.” Ned panted, working his hips back and forth. “How does it feel?”

 

Triss could only hoarsely moan in response, all strength was leaving her as Ned ploughed her like a field. Their bed began to shake and move beneath them, the force of Ned’s thrusting sending reverberations through the strong wooden frame.

 

Ned hoped they wouldn’t break the bed… Again…

 

“yOU FeeL So GOod!” Triss whined, her voice, weakly trembling. “I LoVE YOuR cOckS!”

 

“When your parents sent you off to the magic academy in Winterfell, do you think they even imagined that you would end up a whore for the Stark of Starks?”

 

“YES! I’m your WHORE!” Triss moaned. “Ravage me! PUT ME IN MY PLACE!”

 

Ned determinedly ploughed Triss through her barely coherent screams of pleasure, thrusting back and forth as her pleasure leaked onto the bed. Soon enough, Triss’s words became formless babbling as Ned’s hips clapped against her meaty arse again and again.

 

Her legs kicked out, her toes curling, her hands gripping the pillow so hard Ned thought she might tear through it. That, coupled with the increasingly spasming and contracting he felt around the twin cocks, told Ned that Triss was coming to a rapturous end.

 

Her cunt sent forth a tidal wave of her pleasure, bringing Ned to a roaring end. He thrust every inch of his cock inside the well-fucked mage, seeding her womb. Her holes milked his cock for all it’s worth. Triss was shaking and quivering beneath him as Ned kept the whole length of his cock inside her.

 

Panting and coated in sweat, the pair stayed as they were on the bed for a time, before Ned rose from his lover and walked out of the room.

 

Ned left his bedchambers, still naked and shining with a mixture of sweat and Triss’ pleasure from bedding her a few moments earlier. Walking out into his darkened solar, he saw that the curtains and shutters remained closed, the only light was coming from the candles strewn about the room.

 

Yennefer was wearing one of his robes, completely open and hanging loosely from her shoulders, most likely from the heat of King’s Landing. She was pouring over stacks of parchment amongst many piles of wooden crates.

 

“What are you doing, Yen?” Ned asked as he narrowly avoided banging his foot against a wooden crate that stood in his way. Yennefer looked up when she heard his voice. There were bags under her eyes and her raven curls were in a thick mess.

 

“Well…” she began. “After you and Triss fell asleep, I had a thought and called for the former Master of Coin’s records. One of these crates has a list of how much money Littlefinger withdrew from the crown treasury last year and how much money the crown spent. I’m looking for any inconsistencies between the two.”

 

“You suspect him of embezzlement?” Considering other aspects of his character, Ned would not have doubted for a second that Petyr Baelish would have stolen from the realm when he was able.

 

“Perhaps…”

 

“…Were you here all night?” Ned asked, walking over to the windows of his solar.

 

“Is it day time?” Yennefer barely looked up from her papers.

 

“The sun is rising.” Ned said as his pulled back the curtains and threw open the shutters, letting the sun’s rays fill the room with light. He saw Yennefer cringe away, holding her hand over her eyes as she turned her head back to the parchment.

 

“Usually, when I stay up all night i’m able to pass a transmogrification exam,” Yennefer said in a half-laugh, before she paused. “Ned…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m not going to have to take a transmogrification exam am I?” There was almost a tinge of fear in Yennefer’s eye at the thought of having to go back to being a student at the Winterfell magical academy. Ned would be lying if he’d never had nightmares about having to learn from his father’s druid with his siblings and the other noble children of the North.

 

“No…” He answered.

 

“Good…” Yennefer seemed relieved. “Because in one of these crates are lists of all of Littlefinger’s financial transactions with the ‘Half-Moon’ Tyroshi trading cartel.” Looking around at all the crates, Ned had a thought.

 

“May I ask you something?”

 

“I had a plan.” Yennefer said, sternly.

 

“When you said, "In one of these crates..."?”

 

“I had a plan.” She repeated, lifting a crate from the top of a pile and taking it over to Ned’s desk. “Each crate is numbered. There's a piece of parchment with a number and a corresponding description of the contents of each crate.”

 

“And where is the parchment?” In response, Yennefer heavily dropped the crate onto his desk, turned to him slowly and looked at him as if he’d just asked her if water was wet. “It's in one of these crates…” Realisation dawned on Ned.

 

“I had a plan…” Yennefer repeated, ruefully. “I miss the snow...”

 

“I can make you some snow.” Ned ventured.

 

“It’s not the same… I miss the North, I miss our daughter. I could teach at the academy, it was nice, it was cool, and I always did well on my transmogrification exam until you came along and told me to come south because we had to save the king.”

 

“I never said you-“

 

“-Yes you did. After we’re finished here, i’m done with the South!”

 

“You and me both.” Ned chuckled, before stepping closer to Yennfer, taking her hands in his own. “However, in all seriousness, you need to get some sleep.”

 

“I can't yet.” Yennefer told him. “Because in one of these crates are receipts and letters from the Iron bank, and in one of these crates is a piece of parchment which says which crate it's in!” The door to the solar opened slightly and Yennefer whirled around, pointing a finger at the it. “If that’s more crates of lists, I will smite you! With the power of a Thousand Gods! and a Million suns!”

 

The door stopped, as if it was too afraid to open all the way. “…A Small Council session has been called, My Prince.” Perkins said, almost timidly from behind the door. “By the king.” He added. That was certainly surprising news, Robert hadn’t sat in on a council meeting since before Ned had arrived.

 

“It seems we have more pressing matters to deal with.” Ned said as he walked over to his wardrobe.

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

“Robert, I beg of you,” Ned pleaded, “hear what you’re saying. You are talking of murdering a child.”

 

“The whore is just shy of twenty! And she’s pregnant!” The Robert’s fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap, Foebreaker sparked angrily as it lay in the centre of the table. “I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you’ll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, with her sisters and mother as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

 

The other councillors were all doing their best to pretend that they were somewhere else, apart from Yennefer, who was barely awake. No doubt they were all wiser than he was. Ned had seldom felt quite so alone. “You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this.”

 

“Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck.”

 

“There is no axe,” Ned told his king. “Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed... If it exists at all.”

 

“If?” Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. “My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to king and council?”

 

Ned looked at the eunuch coldly. “You have brought us whisperings from half a world away, my lord.”

 

“I would not bring this to the king’s attention if I were not sure,” Varys said with a sly smile. “Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.”

 

“So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not fear…”

 

“But if it is a boy?” Robert insisted. “If he lives?”

 

“The narrow sea still lies between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.”

 

The king took a long gulp of wine and glowered at Ned across the council table. “Do nothing?!? That’s your advice? Do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?”

 

“This ‘dragonspawn’ is in his mother’s belly,” Ned said. “Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned.”

 

“Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark.” The king looked around the council table. “You’re my council. Council! Speak sense to this frozen-faced fool?”

 

Varys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Ned’s sleeve. “I understand your qualms, Prince Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, howevermuch it pains us.”

 

Lord Renly shrugged. “We ought to have had them all killed years ago, but His Grace my brother made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn.”

 

“Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly,” Ned replied. “On the Trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert’s friends and mine. After the battle, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said, ‘I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well,’ and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristan’s wounds.” Ned gave the king a long cool look. “If only that man were here today.”

 

Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same…” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.”

 

“Whereas Daenerys Targaryen is a girl younger than my oldest sons. A girl who has done us no harm.” Ned knew he was pushing this well past the point of wisdom, yet he could not keep silent in the face of this. Thoughts of Elia’s son… his son, filled his mind. Then there was Rhaenys and the babe that grew in her belly, Ned’s own grandchild. What if Robert were to decide that all the members of house Targaryen were to die? It would not come to that. Ned would raise every man in the North to defend them. “Robert, I ask you… What did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

 

“To put an end to Targaryens!” the king growled.

 

“Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar.” Ned fought to keep the scorn out of his voice, and failed. “Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of his sister’s unborn child?”

 

Robert went purple. “No more, Ned,” he warned, pointing at Ned in a fury. “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?”

 

“No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?”

 

“Enough!” the king bellowed. “I’m sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned. What say you all?”

 

“She must be killed,” Lord Renly declared.

 

“We have no choice,” murmured Varys. “Sadly, sadly...”

 

Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, “Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother’s womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard.”

 

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. “My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl his no ill will. Yet I ask you this— should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?” He stroked his long white beard. “Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?”

 

“Kinder,” Varys said. “Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm would bleed.”

 

Yennefer was the last, she had used an illusion to make herself more presentable for the meeting, one that only Ned could see through. Where the other councillors saw her as the immaculate and well rested Master of Coin, Ned saw she still wore his robe, still having not bothered to tie it up. She looked tired as she slouched in her chair, trying to stifle a yawn. “I must also agree with the Hand.”

 

“There’s a surprise.” Renly mumbled into his wine glass.

 

“Say we try to kill her and fail? Perhaps she has given no thought to taking the Iron Throne? Who’s to say the act of trying to assassinate her won’t set her on a path of attacking Westeros? Besides,” Yennefer continued. “even if she were to come to Westeros, we have dragons, she has none.”

 

Robert’s face grew sterner as he looked out of the window, Ned knew he was thinking of Stormbreaker and his dragon’s deterioration. Then he turned to Ned. “Well, there it is, Ned. You, your woman and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?”

 

“Can your spies wield blades?” Renly asked Varys.

 

“Yes,” Varys answered, “and quite well I might add, yet they are not fools. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor soul who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight.” He stroked a powdered cheek. “Now, poison... The tears of Lys, let us say… Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death.”

 

Ned did not fail to notice that Grand Maester Pycelle’s sleepy eyes flicked open, squinting suspiciously at the eunuch.

 

“Poison is a coward’s weapon,” the king complained.

 

Ned had heard enough, he was beginning to choke on the hypocrisy. “You send hired knives to kill a girl and her unborn babe, yet still quibble about honor?” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least.”

 

“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. “You mean it, damn you.” He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. “I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.”

 

“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.”

 

For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.”

 

“I wish him every success.” Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.”

 

Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “Out! Damn you, I’m done with you! What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!”

 

Ned bowed, and turned on his heel without another word. He could feel Robert’s eyes on his back. Wordlessly, Yennefer rose from her seat to join Ned in solidarity.

 

The closing of the door behind them silenced the voices of the council. Ser Boros Blount was stationed outside the chamber, wearing the long white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. He gave the pair a quick, curious glance from the corner of his eye, but asked no questions.

 

The day felt heavy and oppressive as they crossed the bailey back to the Tower of the Hand. He could feel the threat of rain in the air as the thunder rumbled, likely Robert’s doing. Ned would have welcomed it. It might have made him feel a trifle less unclean.

 

“It seems we are to be done with the south sooner than we both expected?” Yennefer tried to cut the tension as they walked.

 

“And perhaps we will be happier for it.” Ned answered her. “I would suggest going to your rooms and making ready to leave.”

 

“As you wish.” Yennefer bowed slightly before turning and setting off to her rooms.

 

When he reached his solar, he summoned Vayon Poole. The steward came at once. “You sent for me, my lord Hand?”

 

“Hand no longer,” Ned told him. “The king and I have quarreled. We shall be returning to Winterfell.”

 

“I shall begin making arrangements at once, my prince. We will need a fortnight to ready everything for the journey.”

 

“We may not have a fortnight. Perhaps not even a day. The king mentioned something about seeing my head on a spike.” Ned frowned. He did not truly believe the king would harm him, not Robert. He was angry now, but once Ned was safely out of sight, his rage would cool as it always did.

 

Suddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Near two decades dead, yet Robert hated him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion... And there was the other matter, the business with Cat, Elia and the dwarf that Yoren had warned him of the night before. That would come to light soon, as sure as sunrise, and with the king in such a black fury... Robert might not care for Tyrion Lannister, but it would touch on his pride, and there was no telling what the queen might do.

 

“It might be safest if I went on ahead,” he told Poole. “My daughters and I will be on dragonback within the hour. The rest of you can follow when you are ready. Inform Harper, Beric and Arthur, but tell no one else, and do nothing until the girls and I have gone. The castle is full of eyes and ears, and I would rather my plans were not known.”

 

“As you command, my lord.”

 

When he had gone, Ned went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left him no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be good to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His many children were waiting there, with more on the way, from all three his wives. A soft smile formed when he thought of holding newborn babes again. Of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night, and his pack beside him.

 

And yet, the thought of leaving angered him as well. So much was still undone. Robert and his council of cravens and flatterers would beggar the realm if left unchecked... or, worse, sell it to the Lannisters in payment of their loans. And the truth of Jon Arryn’s death still eluded him. Oh, he had found a few pieces, enough to convince him that Jon had indeed been murdered by the Lannisters, but that was no more than the spoor of an animal on the forest floor. He had not sighted the beast itself yet, though he sensed it was there, lurking, hidden, treacherous.

 

It struck him suddenly that he might stop at Dragonstone and speak with Stannis Baratheon. Pycelle had sent a raven off across the water, with a polite letter from Ned requesting Lord Stannis to return to his seat on the small council. As yet, there had been no reply, but the silence only deepened his suspicions. Lord Stannis shared the secret Jon Arryn had died for, he was certain of it. The truth he sought might very well be waiting for him on the ancient island fortress of House Targaryen.

 

And when you have it, what then? Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust. Ned slid the dagger that his wives had brought him out of the sheath on his belt. The Imp’s knife. The Lannisters had tried to murder his wives…

 

Could Robert be part of it? He would not have thought so, but once he would not have thought Robert could command the murder of women and children either. Cat had tried to warn him. You knew the man, she had said. The king is a stranger to you. The sooner he was quit of King’s Landing, the better. He and his daughters would ride on the winds back to their home.

 

Cooper announced a visitor. “Alayaya to see you, My Prince.”

 

Ned was half-tempted to turn her away and say he had no need of her mother’s spies any more, but he thought better of it. Until King’s Landing was a speck in the distance, he needed to keep playing their games. “Send her in, Cooper.”

 

The brothel madame’s daughter strutted into Ned’s solar as if it was her own room. She wore a long cloak over a typical whore’s dress, leaving little of her substantial curves to the imagination. She locked eyes with Ned with a smirk.   

 

“I am afraid I have not the time for one of our sessions today.” Ned informed her.

 

“That is a pity.” She looked him up and down. “I’m here for two reasons: The first is to say my mother and I hunger for your touch.” She giggled, coming close and pressing her monumental chest against him.

 

“And the second?”

 

“Your men have been searching for a brothel, correct?” Alayaya asked him. “And though you may not have known it, you were searching for a particular girl in that brothel.”

 

“Do you know where she is?”

 

“I can take you to her.”

 

Ned walked into the makeshift pen they had made to house his Great Eagle, Snowflake. The massive white bird cawed happily when it saw Ned. He fed the bird a piece of meat from his hand.

 

“I’ve never flown before.” Alayaya said, reverently, he eyes fixed on the great white eagle.

 

“Snowflake would be much quicker than a horse.” Ned stated.

 

“But then, every man woman and child in King’s Landing would know where you’re going.” Both turned to see Arthur standing behind them.

 

“Ser Arthur Dayne.” Alayaya smirked as she curtsied.

 

“Arthur, good.” Ned began as he walked out of the pen, the other two following him. “You and Beric are to stay with my daughters at all times. Upon my return, we will leave on dragonback.”

 

“The old wolf and I will keep your pups safe, Stark.” Arthur promised, then paused. “Yennefer told me why you stepped down from your position.” The silence hung in the air. “When Ash first told me of you all those years ago, she talked of you as if you were the best of men… In all the years i’ve known you, you’ve not proved her wrong once.”

 

“High praise from the Sword of the Morning.”

 

“Well deserved, I assure you.” With that, Arthur bid them farewell. Ned and Alayaya mounted their horses and rode out into King’s Landing with the Chosen Men following.

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

The girl had been so young Ned had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she’d been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I named her Barra,” she said as the child nursed. “She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair...”

 

“She does.” Ned touched the baby’s fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robert’s firstborn, Mya had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.

 

“Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it... as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is.”

 

“I will,” Ned promised her. That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows.

 

“And tell him I’ve not been with no one else. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new. Chataya said I could have a year, for the baby, and for hoping he’d come back. So you’ll tell him I’m waiting, won’t you? I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. He was always good to me, truly.”

 

Good to you… Ned thought hollowly. “I will tell him, child, and I promise you, Barra shall not go wanting.”

 

She smiled then, a smile so tremulous and sweet that it cut the heart out of him. Ned walked into the room he’d left Chataya in, she was wearing a dress of thin silk around her waist, with her torso almost completely bare. All she wore was a necklace of beads and colourful feathers that hung around her bare breasts.

 

“What do you know of Robert’s bastards?” Ned asked her.

 

“Well…” The Madame smiled at him. “He has Barra, for a start.”

 

“How many?”

 

Chataya shrugged. “Does it matter? If you bed enough women, some will give you presents, and His Grace has never been shy on that count. I know he’s acknowledged that boy at Storm’s End, the one he fathered the night Lord Stannis wed.” She gave Ned a sideways glance. “I’ve also heard whispers from the queen’s maids that the king got a pair of twins on a serving wench at Casterly Rock, three years ago when he went west for Lord Tywin’s tourney. The Queen had the babes killed, and sold the mother to a passing slaver. Too much an affront to Lannister pride, that close to home.”

 

Ned grimaced. Ugly tales like that were told of every great lord in the realm. He could believe it of Cersei Lannister readily enough... But would Robert stand by and let it happen? The Robert he had known would not have, but the Robert he had known had never been so practiced at shutting his eyes to things he did not wish to see. “Why would Jon Arryn take a sudden interest in the king’s baseborn children?”

 

“He was the King’s Hand. Perhaps Robert asked him to see that they were provided for.”

 

“It had to be more than that, or why kill him?”

 

“I can only tell you what I know, Prince Stark.” Chataya purred, stepping close to him. “Now… For my payment.” She knelt down and unlaced his breeches.

 

Ned walked down the stairs into the brothel’s common room with Chataya sauntering behind him, wiping his seed from her breasts with his fingers, before putting them in her mouth. By the hearth, Perkins and Alayaya were playing at forfeits. From the look of it, he’d lost his belt, his cloak, his shirt, and his boots so far, while Alayaya had lost one sandal. Harper and Hagman stood beside a rain-streaked window with a wry smile on their faces, watching Perkins turn over tiles and enjoying the view.

 

Ned paused at the foot of the stair and pulled on his gloves. “It’s time we took our leave. My business here is done.”

 

“You greedy bitch!” Alayaya called out when she saw Chataya behind him. She quickly scampered over to her mother and began to eagerly lick Ned’s seed from her breasts.

 

“As you will, My Prince.” Harper said, chuckling as Perkins gathered up his things and they strode to the door.

 

A warm rain was pelting down from a starless black sky as they walked out of the brothel.

 

“Will we be going back to the castle now, My Prince?” Cooper asked. Ned nodded as he reached for his horse.

 

The rain was falling hard, stinging the eyes and drumming against the ground. Rivers of black water were running down the hill when Harper called out, his voice tense with alarm.

 

In an instant, the street was full of soldiers, all of them were clad head-to-toe in enchanted golden armour, with longswords on their belts, holding spears and shields. Ned knew them to be soldiers from the Gold Legion, with the lions of Lannister roaring proudly on their breastplates. They were Tywin Lannister’s imitation of the Stark’s Winter Wolves, a well equipped and well trained force of magically enhanced soldiers that could be called upon in an instant by their lord. With them, came lions as large as horses, their chained collars held tight by their keepers, along with them came bull-trolls in full plate armour as well.

 

Ned and his men were silent as their foes poured into the street on both ends, surrounding them. He had no time to count, but Ned knew there were more than thirty of them, against himself and his six Chosen Men. As they had meant to be secret in their mission, none of them were wearing armour, though they did have their weapons, hidden under their thick cloaks. Thundering hooves sounded the arrival of Jaime Lannister on a white horse, wearing the same golden armour as his men.

 

“Such a small pack of wolves…” He said, arrogantly as he dismounted, Ned could see the rain running down his face.

 

“Stay back Ser,” Harper summoned his ice blade from it’s hilt, the blade freezing the raindrops that hit it. “this is the Hand of the King.”

 

“Was the Hand of the King.” The Kingslayer corrected him. “Now i’m not sure what he is. A Prince of somewhere very far away…”

 

“What’s the meaning of this, Lannister?!” Chataya stepped barefooted out onto the street, her hands on her hips, unashamed of her nudity and unbothered by the rain.

 

“Get back inside Madame, where it’s safe…” Jaime ordered, before turning back to Ned. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don’t you, Prince Stark? Blonde hair, sharpe tongue… Short man.”

 

“I remember him well.” Ned replied.

 

“Seems he had some trouble on the road, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to him would you?”

 

“Your brother was taken at my command. To answer for Lannister crimes.” Ned said. The Kingslayer drew his golden sword in answer, the rest of his men lowered their spears towards Ned.

 

“My lords!” Chataya called again, trying to defuse the situation, before seeing that it was a lost cause. “I’ll send for the city watch.” She said loudly, before retreating back inside.

 

“Come now, Stark…” Jaime goaded him. “I’d rather you died sword in hand.”

 

“If you threaten Prince Stark again-“ Hagman knocked an enchanted arrow to his ice-bow, the arrow glowing with blue magical energy.

 

“Threaten?” Jaime interrupted him. “As in: I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and-“ The Kingslayer couldn’t even finish his sentence before Hagman loosed his arrow, aiming directly at the Kingslayer’s face. The blue arrow sailed through the air, swift and true. Metal sang as Jaime deflected the arrow with his blade, sending it spinning before it’s tip buried itself into the cobbles. They all stood in stunned silence at what the Kingslayer was capable of, even the Gold Legion seemed surprised. Hagman’s arrows were not easily blocked. “…Would you like to try that again?” Kingslayer asked, mockingly.

 

“As you wish, Kingslayer.” Hagman, Cooper, Isiah and Perkins all aimed their arrows at Jaime before Ned raised his arm to stop them. The last thing Ned needed was to escalate the situation further.

 

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man…” He told Jaime.

 

“You’re right.” The Kingslayer considered for a moment. “Take him alive. Kill his men.”

 

Ned summoned Ice to his hand that instant, the Chosen Men loosed what arrows they had at their enemy, each one striking true. The lions roared as their keepers let go of their chains, sending them speeding towards the Chosen Men.

 

Ned acted quickly, turning on his heel and beheading the first lion that speed past him with one swing of Ice. Harris put his ice blade through the belly of another lion as it launched itself at him. Ned heard Harper giving a war-cry as he kicked a bull-troll into the wall of the opposite side of the street. Before Ned could look to his men, other foes were on him.

 

Taking advantage of the heavy rain, Ned froze froze the ground around him. The three Lannister men that came at him slipped right into his wide horizontal strike, cutting them all in two with one swing. Soon enough, another golden armoured man was rushing towards him, only to be felled when a blue arrow embedded itself deep into his helmet.

 

A lion lunged at Ned, he froze it solid before it could land, then threw the lion at a troll, knocking it to the ground as the lion shattered.

 

Using telekinesis, Ned lifted the next two men into the air, choking the life from them.

 

After they fell, Ned only saw Jaime.

 

For a moment, the world stilled as the two warriors sized each other up. Jaime was on him faster than a lightning bolt, coming in with an upwards strike that would have cut Ned in half from the waist up if he hadn’t dodged.

 

Ned countered with a thrust that Jaime parried and turned back on him, forcing Ned to retreat. Jaime rained blow after blow down on him. Ned almost felt like he was being attacked by four different men at once. It seemed Jaime had taken to the King’s Guard enhancements particularly well, becoming even stronger and faster than Barristan the Bold.

 

Arthur wasn’t lying when he told me the Kingslayer had skill.

 

Ned kept up his ironclad guard, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. Eventually, one came along and sparks flew from the collision of Ice with Jaime’s gold breastplate, leaving a deep gash along the metal as he staggered backwards.

 

Jaime chuckled as they stood apart for a second. “There are maybe three other men in Westeros who could land a hit on me like that…”

 

“Having second thoughts?” Ned called out, hoping to end this madness.

 

“Oh, absolutely not!” He laughed. “This is the best fight i’ve had in years.”

 

They came together again, this time Ned had the upper hand. He understood Jaime’s patterns better, allowing him to force Jaime onto the back foot. Parry, parry, cut high, counter, thrust. They danced around each other as they went back and forth.

 

Ned knew Jaime’s sword was magical, with the finest enchantments, but even that was beginning to falter against Ice. The Kingslayer’s sword was beginning to chip along the edges, from repeated strikes. Turning Ice into it’s Greatsword form, Ned used the superior range to keep on the attack, slashing this way and that.

 

But an overextension and a well placed kick sent Ned flying into the wall behind him, cracking it badly. Jaime lunged at him, embedding his sword deep into the wall where Ned’s stomach had been. Ned used the Kingslayer’s mistake against him, taking him by the head and smashing it against the brick wall a few times. The wall ended up being the more damaged one between the two.

 

Eventually, Jaime wrenched his sword free, sending the hilt into Ned’s unarmoured stomach, almost making him double over in pain. Ned jumped back to avoid a slash that would have ended him. Then he began to advance on Jaime, forcing him further back. Ned broke an newly formed ice hammer against the Kingslayer’s knee, causing him to stumble back, favouring his leg.

 

A well placed riposte from the Kingslayer gave them both space.

 

They were about to clash again, with Jaime swinging down on him from above. Ned rose Ice to block, then suddenly the world shifted and a blinding, fiery pain erupted from Ned’s right thigh. He fell to one knee, dropping his arm and more pain exploded in his left shoulder. His arm felt like it was aflame. The world turned from dark shadows to pure white.

 

It took everything Ned had not to transform into his wolf form right there. He would tear through all in his path. In the middle of a city full of people, that meant terrible consequences for the innocent citizens that lived there.

 

He fell to the ground as he vaguely heard someone shouting his name. Then he heard an eagle’s cry, a great wind blew over him and unconsciousness took him. The next thing Ned knew, he was flying through the night. Then the darkness took him again.

Notes:

I have news for you, my readers. After a poll on the Discord server, I have decided to retcon Lyanna back to life in WWC, all of the chapters that updated today should relate to that in some way (unless I was correcting a spelling mistake) I’m 50/50 on if she should join Ned’s bed, what do you think?

As ever, please like, follow and subscribe for more of this content. If the mood takes you, why not join out Discord server?

There are many benefits including: pictures of the characters, background lore for WWC, easily ask questions about the fic and much more!

Discord - https://discord.gg/vQrEA2ctdy

Until we meet again, next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 21: Chapter 16

 

 

“Prince Eddard,” a man echoed from the dark.

 

Groaning, Ned opened his eyes. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows of his rooms in the Tower of the Hand. Ned felt sore all over. He wondered where he was for a second, then his last memories washed over him. The Kingslayer, his men, blood and pain.

 

“Prince Eddard?” A shadow stood over the bed.

 

“How... How long?” Ned croaked, he tried to move through his sweat soaked, tangled sheets. With dull eyes he saw his right leg was sticking out from under the sheets, wrapped tightly in bandages. A dull throb of pain shot up his side.

 

“Three days.” The voice was Vayon Poole’s. The steward held a cup to Ned’s lips. “Drink, my prince.”

 

“What...?”

 

“Only water. Maester Pycelle said you would be thirsty.”

 

Ned drank. His lips were parched and cracked, his throat drier than the sands of Dorne. The water was cool and tasted sweet as honey.

 

“The Chosen Men…” Ned managed after he got the water down. He did not know how he managed to get away, or what happened to them.

 

“None sustained heavy injuries, my prince.” Vayon assured him, kindly. “All are well and back in the Red Keep. Captain Harper is with your daughters, Cooper and Harris stand outside this very room.”

 

“Good…” Ned sighed, thanking the Gods for sparing his men. He took another drink from the cup.

 

“The king left orders,” Vayon told him when the cup was empty. “He would speak with you, my prince.”

 

“On the morrow,” Ned said. “When I am stronger.” He could not face Robert now, he needed to see his daughters first.

 

“My prince,” Vayon said, “he commanded us to send you to him the moment you opened your eyes.” The steward busied himself lighting a bedside candle.

 

Ned swore softly. Robert was never known for his patience. “Tell him I’m too weak to come to him. If he wishes to speak with me, I should be pleased to receive him here. I hope you wake him from a sound sleep. Summon Arthur and Beric and...” Ned debated for a moment if his daughters would appreciate being woken from their slumber to be told he was awake. “Send for my daughters too.”

 

Arthur and Beric stepped into the bedchamber not long after the steward had taken his leave.

 

“It’s good to see you back in the land of the living, lad.” His grizzled old Witcher of an uncle said as the two men walked into the room.

 

“Poole tells me it’s been three days,” Ned said. “I must know how things stand.”

 

“It was Snowflake who flew down to get you during the fight.” Arthur told him. “That eagle of yours landed right in front of the Tower of the Hand with you in his talons.”

 

“I’ll have to reward that bird later.” Ned smiled.

 

“The Kingslayer has also fled the city,” Beric told him. “The talk is he’s ridden back to Casterly Rock to join his father. The story of how Princess Catelyn and Elia took the Imp is on every lip.“

 

“We’ve put more guards on watch, and sent for three hundred Winter Wolves from Winterfell.” Arthur added.

 

“Good.” Ned thanked them. It gave Ned some comfort that he would have hundreds more Winter Wolves in the city, but it would take more than a month for them to sail down from the North. With three hundred Winter Wolves, I could take this city in a day. “My daughters?”

 

“They have been with you every day, my lord. They were both raging when they were told of what happened.” Beric told him.

 

“We had to stop Sansa from mounting Sunbeam and flying after the Kingslayer herself.” Arthur added, chuckling.

 

“Whatever happens,” Ned said, “I want my daughters kept safe. I fear this is only the beginning.”

 

“No harm will come to them” Arthur swore. “I promise you that.”

 

At that moment, the door burst open as Yennefer and Triss rushed into the room. “He’s awake?” Triss asked hurriedly as she rushed over to sit on the left side of his bed, with Yennefer sitting on the other, both examining him.

 

“Your women were quite worried for you.” Arthur chuckled.

 

Yennefer gave Arthur a cold look before she turned back to Ned. “Are you in much pain?” She asked, looking over his bandaged leg.

 

“Not so much now.” Ned lied. He reached out for Yennefer with his right hand and for Triss with his left. For some reason, only his right reached out, both Yennefer and Triss were trying to mask their apprehension.

 

Ned looked down to his left arm…

 

His breath became erratic as Ned began to panic.

 

His left arm wasn’t there anymore, in it’s place was a small stump at his shoulder.

 

“What!?!” Ned almost squeaked in surprise, shifting on the bed, trying to get a better view in the dark room.

 

“Ned, try to stay calm.” Yennefer tried to assure him.

 

Pain shot up Ned’s leg as he tried to move. He reached out his right arm to touch the bandaged stump, not quite believing it. A dull pain spread along his shoulder when he finally touched the stump. It couldn’t be real, Ned still felt his arm. At that moment, he could feel his left hand clenching into a fist. He had heard of men who had lost an arm or leg feeling a phantom limb, but Ned didn’t think it could have felt that real.

 

“How!?” Ned turned to the people standing around his bed.

 

“I’m so sorry, Ned.” Yennefer had tears in her eyes as she spoke to him. “The Kingslayer’s sword cut deep into your forearm and bicep, deep into the bone… I could have healed you if I had been allowed to... I could have at least checked…” Her head turned angrily to the side. “The king wanted the Grand Maester to see to you personally. Pycelle said he detected some kind of magical poison from the wound, that the Kingslayer had poisoned his blade. He said, he feared that if he didn’t remove the arm right away, we would lose you...”

 

“Robert would hear no other words after he heard that.” Arthur said, grimly. “He didn’t even want to risk waiting for a second opinion when he heard you could die unless he acted right away.”

 

Ned gritted his teeth, stifling his anger. Robert’s love could be a gift and a curse. The man could be incredibly loyal, but he could not see the wood for the trees when someone he loved was in danger. Ned’s head fell back onto the pillows as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he only had one arm.

 

“At least it wasn’t my sword hand…” Ned said, dryly.

 

“There are spells to mitigate this.” Triss said, leaning over to him. “When you’re stronger, I can teach you how to make an ethereal arm.” She tried to reassure him. Ned was not as convinced as Triss tried to present herself as being.

 

“There is other news as well…” Beric stared.

 

“He doesn’t need to hear that as well.” Yennefer turned to him.

 

“What?” Ned asked.

 

“It seems, whatever has been effecting Stormbreaker, has spread to Snowsong and Sunbeam too…”

 

That was too much. Ned tried to rise from the bed, even as Yennefer and Triss pushed him back down. “I need to see them.” Ned said as he fell back to the pillows.

 

“Yen and I are doing everything we can.” Triss assured him. “You can see them when you’re feeling better.”

 

“And how long will that be?” Ned asked, perhaps a bit harsher than he had meant to.

 

“The spear in the thigh was the worse of the two injuries.” Yennefer said, poking his leg to prove her point, making Ned wince. “It badly tore your muscle and broke your femur. For a normal man, it would take seven to eight moons. But for you? With your enhanced healing and all the healing magic we’ve been administering, you’ll be healed before the turn of the moon.”

 

“Until I can walk?”

 

“Probably days.”

 

“Well, I suppose you’ve done well while i’ve been indisposed,” Ned was saying when Vayon returned. The steward bowed low. “His Grace is without, my prince, and the queen with him.”

 

Ned pushed himself up higher, wincing as his leg trembled with pain. He had not expected Cersei to come. It did not bode well that she had. “Send them in, and leave us. What we have to say should not go beyond these walls.” Poole and the rest withdrew quietly, both Yen and Triss kissing his head before they left.

 

Robert had taken time to dress. He wore a black velvet doublet with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon the breast in golden thread, and a golden mantle with a cloak of black and gold squares. A flagon of wine was in his hand, his face already flushed from drink. Cersei Lannister entered behind him, a jeweled tiara in her hair.

 

“Your Grace,” Ned said. “Your pardons. I cannot rise.”

 

“No matter,” the king said grumpily, though it did not mask the concern in his eyes. “Can I get you some wine? From the Arbor. A good vintage.”

 

“A small cup,” Ned said. “My head is still heavy from the milk of the poppy.”

 

“A man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders,” the queen declared.

 

“Quiet, woman,” Robert snapped. He brought Ned a cup of wine. “Are you in much pain?”

 

“Some,” Ned said. His head was swimming, but it would not do to admit to weakness in front of the queen.

 

“Pycelle swears it will heal clean,” Robert frowned, his eyes quickly passed over the stump that had been Ned’s left arm. “I take it you know what your women have done?”

 

“I do.” Ned took a small swallow of wine. “They are blameless, Your Grace. All they did was at my command.”

 

“I am not pleased, Ned,” Robert grumbled.

 

“By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?” Cersei demanded, then looked at his stump. “…Or perhaps I should say ‘hand’.” Robert gave her an angry look. “Who do you think you are?”

 

“The Hand of the King,” Ned told her with icy courtesy. “Charged by your husband to keep the king’s peace and enforce the king’s justice.”

 

“You were the Hand,” Cersei began, “but now—”

 

“Silence!” the king roared. “You asked him a question and he answered it.” Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Ned. “Keep the king’s peace, you say. Is this how you keep my peace, Ned? Eighteen men are dead...” It brought Ned some comfort that the Chosen Men had managed to slay so many of the Lannister’s men. “Abductions on the kingsroad and drunken slaughter in my streets,” the king said. “I will not have it, Ned.”

 

“My wives had good reason for taking the Imp—”

 

“I said, I will not have it! To hell with their reasons. You will command them to release the dwarf at once, and you will make your peace with Jaime.”

 

“Jaime Lannister set more than thirty men against six of mine, with trolls and lions beside. Due to their strength and skill they prevailed, but he wished for them to be slaughtered before my eyes, because he wished to chasten me. Am I to forget that?”

 

“My brother was not the cause of this quarrel,” Cersei told the king. “Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his harlots attacked Tyrion on the kingsroad.”

 

“You must think me a fool to make your lies so transparent.” Robert thundered at Cersei, then turned to Ned. “You were outside some whorehouse though…”

 

“Some whorehouse? I went there to see your daughter! Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale.” Ned watched the queen as he spoke; her face was a mask, still and pale, betraying nothing.

 

Robert flushed. “Barra,” he grumbled. “Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl. I thought she had more sense.”

 

“She’s young, and a whore, and you thought she had sense?” Ned said, incredulous. His leg and his stump were beginning to pain him sorely. It was hard to keep his temper. “The fool child is in love with you, Robert.”

 

The king glanced at Cersei. “This is no the subject for the queen’s ears.”

 

“Her Grace will have no liking for anything I have to say,” Ned replied. “I am told the Kingslayer has fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice.”

 

The king swirled the wine in his cup, brooding. He took a swallow. “No,” he said. “I want no more of this. You’ve slain near twenty of his men. Now it ends.”

 

“Is that your notion of justice?” Ned flared. “If so, I am pleased that I am no longer your Hand.”

 

The queen looked to her husband. “If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you—”

 

“Do you take me for Aerys?” Robert interrupted.

 

“I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and seized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if he’s in much pain and would he like some wine.”

 

Robert’s face was dark with anger. “How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?”

 

Cersei’s face was a study in contempt. “What a jape the gods have made of us two,” she said. “Perhaps I should wear the crown, and you the frock.”

 

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head.

 

“Robert!” Ned impotently chastised the king from his position on the bed.

 

Cersei stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. “I shall wear this as a badge of honor,” she announced.

 

“Wear it in silence, or I’ll honor you again,” Robert vowed. He shouted for a guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. “The queen is tired. See her to her bedchamber.” The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word.

 

Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. “You see what she does to me, Ned.” The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. “My loving wife. The mother of my children.” The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. “I should not have hit her. That was not... That was not kingly.” He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. “I was always strong... No one could stand before me, no one. How do I fight someone if I can’t hit them?” Confused, the king shook his head. “I’m… I’m sorry about your arm… You scared me there…”

 

Ned did not have the heart of be angry at Robert. “It’s done now…” he said. “We must talk...”

 

Robert pressed his fingertips against his temples. “I am sick unto death of talk. I’m going to the kingswood to hunt. Whatever you have to say can wait until I return.”

 

“If the gods are good, I shall not be here on your return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?”

 

Robert stood up, grasping one of the bedposts to steady himself. “The gods are seldom good, Ned. Here, this is yours.” He pulled the heavy silver hand clasp from a pocket in the lining of his cloak and tossed it on the bed. “Like it or not, you are my Hand, damn you. I forbid you to leave.”

 

Ned picked up the silver clasp with his good hand. He was being given no choice, it seemed. His leg throbbed, and he felt as helpless as a child. “The Targaryen girl—”

 

The king groaned. “Seven hells, don’t start with her again. That’s done, I’ll hear no more of it.”

 

“Why would you want me as your Hand, if you refuse to listen to my counsel?”

 

“Why?” Robert laughed. “Why not? Someone has to rule this damnable kingdom. Put on the badge, Ned. It suits you. And if you ever throw it in my face again, I swear to you, I’ll pin the damned thing on Jaime Lannister.”

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

Through the high narrow windows of the Red Keep’s cavernous throne room, the orange light of sunset spilled across the floor. Ned sat high upon the immense ancient seat of the Targaryen kings. Ned had never seen a more ugly heap of twisted metal in his life. Though it was surprisingly comfortable to sit in, Ned decided he didn’t want to think too hard about what it meant.

 

“You are quite certain these were more than brigands?” Varys asked softly from the council table beneath the throne. Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, with Yennefer sat apart from the two of them. They were the only councillors in attendance. A white hart had been sighted in the kingswood, so Renly and Barristan had joined the king to hunt it, along with Joffrey, Theon Greyjoy, Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann, and half the court. Ned had sat the throne in the king’s absence. While his leg had healed considerably since the attack, it still throbbed painfully when kept in the same position for too long.

 

At least he could sit. Save the council, the rest had to stand respectfully, or kneel. The petitioners were clustered near the tall doors, the knights and high lords and ladies beneath the tapestries, the smallfolk in the gallery, the guards in their cloaks, gold or grey: all stood.

 

The villagers were kneeling: men, women, and children, alike tattered and bloody, their faces drawn by fear. The three knights who had brought them before the throne to bear witness stood behind them. Ned was not in the best of moods, as he had been called way from seeing his dragon. He suspected whatever affliction Stormbreaker had had been passed on to Snowsong, and from Snowsong, to Sunbeam.

 

No matter the cause, his and Sansa’s dragons were now apparently too ill to fly. The thought had upset Sansa greatly and she had retired to her quarters. Ned wanted to do the same, yet he had been called upon and now he had to hear the grievances of the people.

 

“Brigands, Lord Varys?” Ser Raymun Darry’s voice dripped scorn. “Oh, they were brigands, beyond a doubt. Lannister brigands.”

 

Ned could feel the unease in the hall, as high lords and servants alike strained to listen. He could not pretend to be surprised. The west had been a tinderbox since Cat and Elia had seized the Lannister dwarf. Both Riverrun and Casterly Rock had called their banners, their armies were massing in the pass below the Golden Tooth. It had only been a matter of time until the blood began to flow. The sole question that remained was how best to stanch the wound.

 

Sad-eyed Ser Karyl Vance, who would have been handsome but for the winestain birthmark that discolored his face, gestured at the kneeling villagers. “This is all the remains of the holdfast of Sherrer, Prince Eddard. The rest are dead, along with the people of Wendish Town and the Mummer’s Ford.”

 

“Rise,” Ned commanded the villagers. He never trusted what a man told him from his knees. “All of you, up.”

 

In ones and twos, the holdfast of Sherrer struggled to its feet. One old man needed to be helped, and a young girl in a bloody dress stayed on her knees, staring blankly at Ser Arys Oakheart, who stood by the foot of the throne in the white armor of the Kingsguard, ready to protect and defend the king... or, Ned supposed, the King’s Hand.

 

“Joss,” Ser Raymun Darry said to a plump balding man in a brewer’s apron. “Tell the Hand what happened at Sherrer.”

 

Joss nodded. “If it please His Grace—”

 

“His Grace is hunting across the Blackwater,” Ned said, wondering how a man could live his whole life a few days ride from the Red Keep and still have no notion what his king looked like. Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast with the left sleeve pinned to his side; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth. “I am Prince Eddard Stark, the King’s Hand. Tell me who you are and what you know of these raiders.”

 

“I keep... I kept... I kept an alehouse, m’lord, in Sherrer, by the stone bridge. The finest ale south of the Neck, everyone said so, begging your pardons, m’lord. It’s gone now like all the rest, m’lord. They come and drank their fill and spilled the rest before they fired my roof, and they would of spilled my blood too, if they’d caught me. M’lord.”

 

“They burnt us out,” a farmer beside him said. “Come riding in the dark, up from the south, and fired the fields and the houses alike, killing them as tried to stop them. They weren’t no raiders, though, m’lord. They had no mind to steal our stock, not these, they butchered my milk cow where she stood and left her for the flies and the crows.”

 

“They rode down my ’prentice boy,” said a squat man with a smith’s muscles and a bandage around his head. He had put on his finest clothes to come to court, but his breeches were patched, his cloak travel-stained and dusty. “Chased him back and forth across the fields on their horses, poking at him with their lances like it was a game, them laughing and the boy stumbling and screaming till they pierced him clean through.”

 

The girl on her knees craned her head up at Ned, high above her on the throne. “They killed my mother too, Your Grace. And they... they...” Her voice trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she was about to say. She began to sob.

 

Ser Raymun Darry took up the tale. “At Wendish Town, the people sought shelter in their holdfast, but the walls were timbered. The raiders piled straw against the wood and burnt them all alive. When the Wendish folk opened their gates to flee the fire, they shot them down with arrows as they came running out, even women with suckling babes.”

 

“Oh, dreadful,” murmured Varys. “How cruel can men be?”

 

“They would of done the same for us, but the Sherrer holdfast’s made of stone,” Joss said. “Some wanted to smoke us out, but their leader said there was riper fruit up river, and they made for the Mummer’s Ford.”

 

Ned could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned forward. Between each finger was a blade, the points of twisted swords fanning out like talons from arms of the throne. Even after three centuries, some were still sharp enough to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a thousand blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed.

 

What Ned was doing sitting there he would never comprehend, yet there he sat, and these people looked to him for justice. “What proof do you have that these were Lannisters?” he asked, trying to keep his fury under control. “Did they wear crimson cloaks or fly a lion banner?”

 

The brewer, Joss, nodded his head. “Their armour was solid gold, m’lord.”

 

“They were Tywin’s Gold Legion.” Ser Marq said loudly. “Can any man doubt it? This was their work.”

 

Ned heard muttering from beneath the windows and the far end of the hall. Even in the galley, nervous whispers were exchanged. High lords and smallfolk alike knew what it could mean if Ser Marq was right. The Gold Legion only obeyed one man, Tywin Lannister. If they were raiding the Riverlands, it would mean war for a certainty.

 

He studied the frightened faces of the villagers. Small wonder they had been so fearful; they had thought they were being dragged before the king to name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a man who was his son by marriage. He wondered if the knights had given them a choice.

 

Grand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of oce clinking. “Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know for a certainty that these brigands are Lord Tywin’s men. Perhaps they mean to frame lord Tywin.”

 

Or perhaps you are Tywin’s creature. Ned felt the phantom fingers of his left hand begin to twitch as he looked at the man who hacked it off as he slept.

 

“Must you ignore the truth when it sits in your lap?” Ser Karyl said. “Who else wears gold armour? Who else could even afford to armour a hundred men in gold?”

 

“My lords, open your eyes.” Ser Raymun added hotly. “Do you need to see his seal on the corpses? It was Tywin.”

 

“This butchery is beyond any lord with strong morals. Lord Tywin is incapable of this.” Pycelle said, definitely. Ned tried not to roll his eyes so hard they fell out of his head.

 

“Ask the Reynes and the Tarbeks what they think of that.” Ser Marq said. “Or even one of the Hand’s wives. I’m sure Princess Elia would have something to say on that matter.”

 

Ned regarded Ser Marq coldly for that.

 

“My lord Hand,” Pycelle declared in a stiff voice, “I urge you to remind this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen.”

 

“Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle,” Ned said through clenched teeth. “I fear we might have forgotten that if you had not pointed it out.”

 

From his vantage point atop the throne, he could see men slipping out the door at the far end of the hall.

 

Hares going to ground , he supposed... Or rats off to nibble the queen’s cheese.

 

At the council table below, Varys leaned forward. “Ser Marq, Ser Karyl, Ser Raymun—perhaps I might ask you a question? These holdfasts were under your protection. Where were you when all this slaughtering and burning was going on?”

 

Ser Karyl Vance answered. “I was attending my lord father in the pass below the Golden Tooth, as was Ser Marq. When the word of these outrages reached Ser Edmure Tully, he sent word that we should take a small force of men to find what survivors we could and bring them to the king.”

 

Ser Raymun Darry spoke up. “Ser Edmure had summoned me to Riverrun with all my strength. I was camped across the river from his walls, awaiting his commands, when the word reached me. By the time I could return to my own lands, Tywin’s vermin were back across the Red Fork, riding for Lannister’s hills.”

 

“And if they come again, ser?”

 

“If they come again, we’ll use their blood to water the fields they burnt,” Ser Marq Piper declared hotly.

 

“Ser Edmure has sent men to every village and holdfast within a day’s ride of the border,” Ser Karyl explained. “The next raider will not have such an easy time of it.”

 

And that may be precisely what Lord Tywin wants, Ned thought to himself, to bleed off strength from Riverrun, goad the boy into scattering his swords.

 

His wife’s brother was young, and more gallant than wise. He would try to hold every inch of his soil, to defend every man, woman, and child who named him lord, and Tywin Lannister was shrewd enough to know that.

 

“If your fields and holdfasts are safe from harm,” Pycelle was saying, “what then do you ask of the throne?”

 

“The lords of the Trident keep the king’s peace,” Ser Raymun Darry said. “The Lannisters have broken it. We ask leave to answer them, steel for steel. We ask justice for the smallfolk of Sherrer and Wendish Town and the Mummer’s Ford.”

 

“Edmure agrees, we must pay Tywin Lannister back his bloody coin,” Ser Marq declared, “but old Lord Hoster commanded us to come here and beg the king’s leave before we strike.”

 

Thank the gods for old Lord Hoster, then.

 

Tywin Lannister was as much fox as lion. If he’d sent his legion to burn and pillage—and Ned did not doubt that he had—he’d taken care to see that he rode under cover of night, without banners, in the guise of a common brigand. Only peasants had seen the gold armour, and they could be easily dismissed as having been paid off, or threatened. Should Riverrun strike back, Cersei and her father would insist that it had been the Tullys who broke the king’s peace, not the Lannisters. The gods only knew what Robert would believe.

 

Grand Maester Pycelle was on his feet again. “My lord Hand, if these good folk believe that some of Lord Tywin’s men have decided to turn brigand to plunder and rape, let them go to his liege lord and make their complaint. These crimes are no concern of the throne. Let them seek Lord Tywin’s justice.”

 

“All flows from the king’s justice,” Ned told him. “North, south, east, or west, all we do we do in Robert’s name.”

 

“The king’s justice,” Grand Maester Pycelle said. “So it is, and so we should defer this matter until the king—”

 

“The king is hunting across the river and may not return for days,” Ned said. “Robert bid me to sit here in his place, to listen with his ears, and to speak with his voice. I mean to do just that... though I agree that he must be told.” He saw a familiar face beneath the tapestries. “Ser Robar.”

 

Ser Robar Royce stepped forward and bowed. “My lord.”

 

“Your father is hunting with the king,” Ned said. “Will you bring them word of what was said and done here today?”

 

“At once, my lord.”

 

“Do we have your leave to take our vengeance against the Lannisters, then?” Marq Piper asked the throne.

 

“Vengeance?” Ned said, not surprised in the least. “I thought we were speaking of justice. Burning Lannister fields and slaughtering his people will not restore the king’s peace, only your injured pride.” He glanced away before the young knight could voice his outraged protest, and addressed the villagers. “People of Sherrer, I cannot give you back your homes or your crops, nor can I restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you some small measure of justice, in the name of our king, Robert.”

 

Every eye in the hall was fixed on him, waiting. Slowly Ned rose to his unsteady feet, pushing himself up from the throne with the strength of his remaining arm, his leg burning under it’s bandages. He did his best to ignore the pain; now was not the time to let them see his weakness.

 

“The First Men believed that the judge who called for death should wield the sword, and in the North we hold to that still. I mislike sending another to do my killing... Yet it seems I have no choice.” He gestured at his leg and stump.

 

“Prince Eddard!” The shout came from the west side of the hall as a handsome stripling of a boy strode forth boldly. Out of his armor, Ser Loras Tyrell looked even younger than his sixteen years. He wore pale blue silk, his belt a linked chain of golden roses, the sigil of his House. “I beg you the honor of acting in your place. Give this task to me, my lord, and I swear I shall not fail you. A dragonrider need not fear Tywin’s men.” Ser Loras said haughtily.

 

Ned eased himself slowly back onto the hard iron seat of Aegon’s misshapen throne. His eyes searched the faces along the wall. “Lord Beric,” he called out. “Thoros of Myr. Ser Gladden. Lord Lothar.” The men named stepped forward one by one. “Each of you is to assemble twenty men, to bring my word to lord Tywin. Twenty of my own men shall go with you. Lord Beric Dondarrion, you shall have the command, as befits your rank.”

 

The young lord with the red-gold hair bowed. “As you command, Lord Eddard.”

 

Ned raised his voice, so it carried to the far end of the throne room. “In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, his Hand, I charge you to ride to the westlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the king’s flag, and there bring the king’s justice to the members of the Gold Legion who have raided the Riverlands.”

 

“My lord.” Pycelle rose from his seat, looking up at Ned. “Perhaps we should not take such drastic action. It would be better to wait for king Robert-“

 

“Grand Maester.” Ned interrupted him. “Send a raven to Casterly Rock, inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court, to answer for the crimes of his men. He is to arrive before the moon’s turn, or be branded an enemy of the crown, and a traitor to the realm.” A murmur went through the crowd as they looked on. Their apprehension and uncertainty filled the hall.

 

When the echo of his words had died away, the Knight of Flowers seemed perplexed. “Prince Eddard, what of me?”

 

Ned looked down on him. From on high, Loras Tyrell seemed almost as young as Bran. “No one doubts your valor, Ser Loras, but we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance.” He looked back to Lord Beric. “Ride at first light. These things are best done quickly.” He held up a hand. “The throne will hear no more petitions today.”

 

As Ned made his descent, he could feel Loras Tyrell’s sullen stare, but the boy had stalked away before Ned reached the floor of the throne room.

 

At the base of the Iron Throne, Varys was gathering papers from the council table. Yennefer and Grand Maester Pycelle had already taken their leave. “You are a bolder man than I, my lord,” the eunuch said softly.

 

“How so, Lord Varys?” Ned asked brusquely. His leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood for word games.

 

“Had it been me up there, I should have sent Ser Loras. He so wanted to go... and a man who has the Lannisters for his enemies would do well to make the Tyrells his friends.”

 

“Ser Loras is young,” said Ned. “I daresay he will outgrow the disappointment.”

 

“And Ser Ilyn?” The eunuch stroked a plump, powdered cheek. “He is the King’s Justice, after all. Sending other men to do his office... Some might construe that as a grave insult.”

 

“No slight was intended.” Ned did not trust the mute knight. “I remind you, the Paynes are bannermen to House Lannister. I thought it best to choose men who owed Lord Tywin no fealty.”

 

“Very prudent, no doubt,” Varys said. “Still, I chanced to see Ser Ilyn in the back of the hall, staring at us with those pale eyes of his, and I must say, he did not look pleased, though to be sure it is hard to tell with our silent knight. I hope he outgrows his disappointment as well. He does so love his work...”

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

“Pain is a gift from the gods, Prince Eddard,” Grand Maester Pycelle told him. “It means the bone is knitting, the flesh healing itself. Be thankful.”

 

“I will be thankful when my leg stops throbbing.”

 

Pycelle set a stoppered flask on the table by the bed. “The milk of the poppy, for when the pain grows too onerous.”

 

“I sleep too much already.”

 

“Sleep is the great healer.”

 

“I had hoped that was you.”

 

Pycelle smiled wanly. “It is good to see you in such a fierce humour, my lord.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “There was a raven this morning, a letter for the queen from her lord father. I thought you had best know.”

 

“Dark wings, dark words,” Ned said grimly. “What of it?”

 

“Lord Tywin is greatly wroth about the command you have given him,” the maester conded. “I feared he would be. You will recall, I said as much in council.”

 

“Let him be wroth,” Ned said. Every time his leg throbbed, he remembered Jaime Lannister’s smile and his cutting blade. “Let him write all the letters to the queen he likes. If Tywin does not come, he will have Robert to answer to. The only thing His Grace enjoys more than hunting is making war on lords who defy him.”

 

Pycelle pulled back, his maester’s chain jangling. “As you say. I shall visit again on the morrow.” The old man hurriedly gathered up his things and took his leave. Ned had little doubt that he was bound straight for the royal apartments, to whisper at the queen. I thought you had best know, indeed... as if Cersei had not instructed him to pass along her father’s threats. He hoped his response rattled those perfect teeth of hers. Ned was not near as confident in Robert as he pretended, but there was no reason Cersei need know that.

 

When Pycelle was gone, Ned called for a cup of honeyed wine. That clouded the mind as well, yet not as badly. He needed to be able to think. A thousand times, he asked himself what Jon Arryn might have done, had he lived long enough to act on what he’d learned. Or perhaps he had acted, and died for it.

 

It was queer how sometimes a child’s eyes can see things that grown men are blind to. That was not fair to Sansa, she was a woman grown, yet sometimes Ned could only see his little girl. Someday, when they had returned to Winterfell, he would have to tell her how she had made it all come clear for him. He’s not the least bit like that old drunken king… He’s even worse! she had declared, angrily. The betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey had long been dead in the water. She had seen him in ways Ned had never even imagined to look at him. Once he realised it, all came crystal clear. A cold hard truth that cut right to the bone.

 

This was the sword that killed Jon Arryn, Ned thought then, and it will kill Robert as well, a slower death but full as certain.

 

Ned allowed himself a curse. Aside from his own retainers, there was scarcely a man in this city he trusted. For all Varys’ protestations of loyalty, the eunuch knew too much and did too little. Grand Maester Pycelle seemed more a Lannister creature with every passing day, and Ser Barristan was an old man, and rigid. He would tell Ned to do his duty.

 

Time was perilously short. The king would return from his hunt soon, and honor would require Ned to go to him with all he had learned. Vayon had arranged for Sansa and Arya to sail with the rest of the household on the Wind Witch out of Braavos, three days hence.

 

They would be back at Winterfell before the harvest. He was trying to get his people out of the castle as quickly and as quietly as he could. They were being sent down the secret path that Littlefinger had shown him to leave the Red Keep, Yennefer and Triss constructed powerful illusions to mask the household as they busied themselves with the withdrawal.

 

Soon enough, it would just be Ned and his guards left behind. He could no longer use his concern for his daughter’s safety to excuse his delay.

 

Yet last night he had dreamt of Elia’s son… His son... If Ned had known that the babe had been his own son, there would not have a living creature in all the realms that could have stopped Ned from gutting Tywin where he stood.

 

Ned could not let that happen again. He had to find some way to save the children.

 

Robert could be merciful. Ser Barristan was scarcely the only man he had pardoned. There had been many in the rebellion that had called Robert and enemy once, and each had been welcomed into friendship and allowed to retain honors and office for a pledge of fealty. So long as a man was brave and honest, Robert would treat him with all the honour and respect due a valiant enemy.

 

This was something else: poison in the dark, a knife thrust to the soul. This he could never forgive, no more than he had forgiven Rhaegar. He will kill them all, Ned realized.

 

And yet, he knew he could not keep silent. He had a duty to Robert, to the realm, to the shade of Jon Arryn...

 

Late that afternoon he summoned Harper. “I shall require your help,” Ned said when Harper appeared, looking faintly apprehensive. “Take me to the godswood.”

 

“Is that wise, Ned? Yennefer said that you need plenty rest, and I dare not anger the witch.”

 

“I was not aware she had quite the hold on you.” Ned chuckled.

 

“She was quite angry we let you get hurt…”

 

“There were so many of them, we’re lucky to have all survived.” Ned managed to descend the steep tower steps with Harper holding his good arm. “I want the guard doubled,” he told Harper. “No one enters or leaves the Tower of the Hand without my leave.”

 

“Ned, you sent a fair number away with Lord Beric,” the Chosen Man lowered his voice. “You have us watching the pathways to the ship to make sure we aren’t discovered. We’re hard-pressed already—”

 

“It will only be a short while. Lengthen the watches.”

 

“As you wish,” Harper answered.

 

The godswood was empty, as it always was. Very few in the south kept the Old Gods, luckily that made the godswood a private meeting place. Ned’s leg was sore as he sat in the grass beside the heart tree. “Thank you.” He said to Harper, who helped him there. He drew a paper from his sleeve, sealed with the sigil of his House. “Kindly deliver this at once.”

 

How long he waited in the quiet of the godswood, he could not say. It was peaceful. The thick walls shut out the clamor of the castle, and he could hear birds singing, the murmur of crickets, leaves rustling in a gentle wind. The heart tree was an oak, brown and faceless, yet Ned still felt the presence of his gods. Even his leg did not seem to hurt so much.

 

She came to him at sunset, as the clouds reddened above the walls and towers. She came alone, as he had bid her. For once she was dressed simply, in leather boots and hunting greens. When she drew back the hood of her brown cloak, Ned saw no bruise where the king had struck her. She must have had Pycelle heal her back to her usual unblemished skin.

 

“Why here?” Cersei demanded as she stood over him.

 

“So the gods can see.”

 

She sat beside him on the grass. Her every move was graceful.

 

Her curling blond hair moved in the wind, and her eyes were green as the leaves of summer. It had been a long time since Ned had seen her beauty, but he saw it now.

 

“I know the truth Jon Arryn died for,” he told her.

 

“Do you?” The queen watched his face, wary as a cat. “Is that why you called me here, Stark? To pose me riddles? Or is it your intent to seize me, as your wives seized my brother?”

 

“If you truly believed that, you would never have come.” Ned touched her cheek gently, where the mark would have been. “Has he done that before?”

 

“Jaime would have killed him.” Cersei looked at him defiantly. “My brother is worth a hundred of your friend.”

 

“Your brother?” Ned said. “Or your lover?”

 

“Both.” She did not flinch from the truth. “Since we were children together. And why not? The  Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel... whole.” The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips.

 

“All three are Jaime’s,” he said. It was not a question.

 

“Thank the gods.”

 

The seed is strong, Jon Arryn had cried on his deathbed, and so it was. All those bastards, all with hair as black as night. No matter how far back Ned searched in the brittle, yellowed pages of Jon Arryn’s book, in every union of Lannister and Baratheon, the gold always yielded before the coal.

 

“Twenty years,” Ned said. “How is it that you have had no children by the king?”

 

She lifted her head, defiant. “Your Robert got me with child once,” she said, her voice thick with contempt. “My brother found a woman to cleanse me. He never knew. If truth be told, I can scarcely bear for him to touch me, and I have not let him inside me for years. I know other ways to pleasure him, when he leaves his whores long enough to stagger up to my bedchamber. Whatever we do, the king is usually so drunk that he’s forgotten it all by the next morning.”

 

How could they have all been so blind? The truth had been there in front of them all the time, written on the children’s faces. Ned felt sick. “I remember Robert as he was the day he took the throne, every inch a king,” he said quietly. “A thousand other women might have loved him with all their hearts. What did he do to make you hate him so?”

 

Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. “The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”

 

“I do not know which of you I pity most.”

 

The queen seemed amused by that. “Save your pity for yourself, Stark. I want none of it.”

 

“You know what I must do.”

 

“…Must?” She put her hand on his good leg, just above the knee. “A true man does what he will, not what he must.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his thigh, the gentlest of promises. “The realm needs a strong Hand. Joff will not come of age for years. No one wants war again, least of all me.” Her hand touched his face, his hair. “If friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends. Your wives are a thousand leagues away, and my brother has fled. Be kind to me, Ned. I swear to you, you shall never regret it.”

 

Before Ned could answer, Cersei gracefully rose to her feet and undid the binds of her cloak, letting it fall softly to the grass. In moments, she was naked as her nameday, standing in front of Ned, looking down at him confidently.

 

Ned would be lying if he said she was not one of the most strikingly beautiful women he had ever seen. Luxurious golden locks hung loose and free, down to large, round breasts with nipples that begged to be sucked on. It seemed after three children, the gods had blessed her with a still slim figure, a flat stomach lead down to a neat patch of golden curls above her cunt. Wide, matronly hips flared out from her thin waist, leading to long legs. Her skin was flawless and fair, begging for his hands to hold.

 

Ned’s eyes roamed lazily up and down her form as she presented herself to him.

 

Cersei wore a cat-like smirk. “Men can be so easy.” She said, as if she had him completely under her control. “I’m a beautiful woman, Ned. And i’m in need.” Cersei said as she knelt down on the soft grass. “I’ve heard the stories. Ned Stark would never say no to a beautiful woman in need…”

 

Ned thought of the Lannister’s crimes, of the murders they’d committed, of Robert and what he had to tell him. Then he thought of Tywin Lannister and Jaime Lannister’s smirking face as he’d ordered him men to kill Ned’s.

 

The thought of fucking Cersei much better than Jaime ever had became one that was too good to pass up. Ned would fuck Cersei, then tell Robert the truth. If Robert found out, he would forgive him, or Ned would deny it and Robert would believe him over Cersei.

 

“Well… Who am I to deny a queen?” Ned smiled at her, Cersei smirked back.

 

“Perhaps you would like me to undress you.” Cersei said as she reached for the hem of his tunic, eventually it was off. Ned watched as Cersei’s eyes roamed over his toned body, her hands feeling the muscles of his chest. Then further down her hands went, hooking into the rim of his breeches and pulling them down.

 

The look on Cersei’s face and the sound she made when she saw his cock for the first time would keep Ned laughing for years to come. It was clear shock in her bright emerald eyes. Must be bigger than she’s used to , Ned mused. Cersei pulled his breeches and boots the full way off and sat on the grass, marvelling at his cock.

 

“I take it your brother is somewhat less impressive.” Ned chuckled.

 

“I never imagined…” Cersei said, her eyes still fixed on the pillar of flesh.

 

“Robert sometimes told tales of your exploits during feasts…” She gingerly reached out and brushed her fingers along Ned’s cock, it it throbbed at her tentative touch.

 

“What tales?”

 

“Well, he said there was the time you fucked lady Bethany Breakwater in her husband’s bed when your troops camped outside their castle.”

 

“Lord Breakwater was off with Jon Connington, forming an army.” Ned remembered the keep well, and the woman.

 

“Yes, but the thing was, Lord and Lady Breakwater were sitting at are table with us as Robert told the story.” Cersei burst into fits of laughter. “You should have seen his face when Robert went into detail about how all could hear his wife’s moans as you fucked her blind.”

 

“I’ve seen lord Breakwater about court many times,” Ned said. “It’s never seemed like he knew.”

 

“That’s because he knows you’d snap him in half if he attacked you.” Cersei laughed again. “Looking at you now though…” Cersei rubbed his cock some more. “I feel I might have married the wrong man. Sometimes, I think Robert would have preferred to marry you. If he had been born a woman, she would have taken you to bed the second she saw this.”

 

“Is that what you felt when you saw me?” Ned smirked at her, running his only hand up her thigh and over her hip.

 

“I admit there was some curiosity.” Cersei shuffled closer and started pumping Ned with more confidence. “I’d heard many stories of your prowess, I had assumed they were… exaggerated… Now, i’m not so sure…” she giggled again. “If I had known this earlier we could have done away with all this intrigue and suspicion. Clearly we are much better suited as friends rather than foes.”

 

“Friends?” Ned asked.

 

“Very close friends.” She whispered back, leaning forward, Cersei embraced Ned deeply. She tasted like honey and wine as their tongues danced together. Cersei was a domineering woman, her kiss reflected that. Her tongue forced it’s way into Ned’s mouth, trying to gain submission. Ned was not so easily subdued.

 

Ned’s hand reached up to take a large handful of Cersei’s bountiful breasts as they kissed, pinching her small nipples, earning a whine from the queen.

 

“I fear in my condition, you will have to do the work.” Ned said as they pulled apart, laying back against the tree.

 

“It will be a pleasure to play with such a gorgeous cock.” Cersei said, biting her bottom lip and smiling down at him. “So long… and thick…”

 

Cersei started to rub both her hands along his cock faster as she laid small kisses on his shaft. Ned felt her kiss a line from the base of his cock, all the way to the tip and back down the other side. Ned ran his hand through her beautiful, golden locks, taking hold of her hair in his fist.

 

Dazzling, emerald eyes were staring up at him, pupils wide with lust. Cersei took another step when she opened her mouth wide, stuck out her long tongue and gave his cock a long lick, from base to tip. Then another and another.

 

Before long, the queen of the Seven kingdoms was licking up and down Ned’s cock with great gusto. Ned looked down on her with satisfaction as she wrapped her hands tightly around his base and started slapping his cock against her pursed lips.

 

“I’d wager you’ve dreamed of being in this position.” Cersei said in a husky voice. “You have the queen kneeling before you, worshiping your cock.”

 

“I imagine many men have.” Ned said, avoiding the answer. The truth was he’d never dreamed of fucking Cersei, strangely enough. He did not imagine Cersei would accept that answer, however.

 

“That is certainly true.” She giggled in response. “Though, while it is other men’s fantasies, it is your reality. Robert needs you as his Hand, and my son will need you after him… You could rule the kingdom by day, then retire to my bed come nightfall… I would treat you as a king. You would be my king, Stark.”

 

It was certainly an enticing proposition. One Ned might have even entertained for a fraction of a moment. Cersei did not wait for an answer, she went back to circling her tongue around his cock head, as it throbbed against her tongue. Then was licking him from root to tip, flicking her tongue along his shaft as her emerald eyes locked with his grey ones.

 

“I love your massive cock, Stark.” Cersei said in a low voice, looking up at him reverently.

 

“Seen many, have you?” Ned chuckled.

 

“What does it matter? If I was a married man taking other women to bed, none would bat an eyelid.” Cersei said, sourly. Ned supposed she was right. She angrily got to work, her beautiful, plump lips latched around the head of his cock and began to suck hard. Her hand gripped the base of his cock tightly, and began to pump the shaft. Her cheeks hollowed and she began to bob her head up and down on the end of his cock.

 

Ned’s single hand rested on top of her head, motioning her up and down, his fingers threaded through her golden tresses. He felt a hum of satisfaction vibrating around his cock from Cersei, a thoroughly pleasant sensation.

 

To Ned’s surprise and pleasure, she started circling her tongue around his cock-head, while she sucked him and pumped his cock with her hands. It seemed to Ned, that she was using all the skills she had at her disposal. Understandable, as in a way, she was begging Ned not to tell Robert of her crimes.

 

She sucked him greedily, caressing one ball and then the other with her loving tongue. They stayed their for a while, Cersei lavishing his balls, making love to them with her tongue.

 

“My wives are far better at sucking cock.” Ned chuckled, knowing what it would cause Cersei’s ego to do.

 

“I can do anything they can do.” She said, defiantly. “And better!”

 

“Then prove it.” Ned challenged. “Give yourself over to me completely.”

 

Wordlessly, Cersei shifted from her kneeling position, to lie down between his legs. Ned had an excellent view of her peachy arse as she settled into her new position.

 

“Well… I’m here…” Cersei said, expectantly, opening her mouth wide.

 

Without a word, Ned grabbed her head with his one hand and angled his tip into her open mouth. He slowly began to push Cersei’s head down onto his cock. She easily obeyed his command, eased her lips down passed his cock head. Ned could see that Cersei was stretching her mouth wide open to accommodate his girth. Her tongue was stretched out, trying to get more cock into her mouth.

 

When Ned heard the queen gagging around his cock, he relented, pulling her back so only the tip of his cock remained in her mouth. Cersei’s lips sealed around it, sucking on him still. So, he pushed her down again this time deeper, then he pulled her up, then down again.

 

Cersei was limp in his hands, Ned could do anything he wanted to her and she would comply. She didn’t even struggle when Ned held her half way down his cock, even as she choked on him.

 

Ned began to speed up his movements.

 

The sounds coming from Cersei’s mouth as he skull fucked her were obscene, loud and incredibly gratifying for him to hear. The debauched sounds of Cersei choking on Ned’s cock could be heard throughout the godswood, Ned was glad there was no one else there to see them.

 

Ned was holding Cersei’s hair in a tight fist as he pumped her up and down his cock, her arms were hanging limply at either side of his thighs, her head seemed to have nothing but his hand holding it up.

 

It was clear to see that Cersei’s large, emerald eyes were bulging and filled with tears at the lack of air she was getting, yet still, she did not struggle at all.

 

“According to a lot of the personal journals stored in Winterfell from previous Starks, you’re doing what many Targaryen queens have done before you.” Ned said to her. “Struggle to take Stark cock!” He laughed. Ned could hardly believe that it was true, but he had read the journals many times, including the many love letters from Targaryen queens that had been stored between the pages. “It seems the destiny of the queens of the seven kingdoms is to taste Stark seed!” Ned grunted as he sent forth a great wave of his seed directly into Cersei’s belly.

 

Ned held her head down as torrents of his seed went down her throat. Even as she choked on him, Ned’s cock was buried in her throat as she tried to swallow all he gave her. Eventually, Ned let Cersei go. She pulled away from his cock, a river of his seed flowing from her mouth, down her chin and onto her monumental breasts as she coughed and wheezed.

 

Laughter echoed all across the godswood as Ned looked at her then. She was a great queen, yet she knelt naked in the grass, sullied and flushed, eyes watery and hair tousled, trying to swallow his seed and gasp for breath at the same time.

 

“Gods!” Cersei finally choked out, still panting as she scooped his seed up with her fingers and licked them clean. “How are you still hard?” Like most women who lay with Ned for the first time, Cersei’s eyes were fixed to his still-throbbing member in astonishment.

 

“It’s the Stark gift, your grace.” Ned grinned. “Your brother usually done after one go?” The look Cersei gave Ned told him he was right.

 

“Let’s see how long you last inside a queen’s cunt.” Cersei challenged, rising to her feet, stepping over his thighs.

 

Ned could clearly see the arousal dripping from her cunt. She was wet and eager for him, even if she tried to hide it. Looking down at him with her green, cat-like eyes, Cersei put her hands on both Ned’s shoulders. He gritted his teeth slightly, rather than show pain when Cersei put her hand on his left shoulder. Slowly, she lowered herself further and further down.

 

Ned’s eyes ran along her thick thighs, flexing as she dropped down. He had to admit, the queen was certainly a cruel woman, with a soul that was rotten to the core, but she had the body of a goddess. A body that his current position afforded him an excellent view of.

 

Cersei was a mother of three, and her breasts certainly had the size to prove it. They were large and round, standing high on her chest, proudly. Ned couldn’t resist reaching up to take one of them in his hand, playing with her hard nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as she moaned. Cersei took her hand off Ned’s bad shoulder and grasped his cock, properly angling it towards her cunt.

 

“Deep breaths now…” Ned teased. “Make sure you’re properly prepared.” Cersei gave him a scowl.

 

“I’m sure i’m more than capable of-AHH-ARGH-FUCK!” Ned didn’t let Cersei finish her sentence before he gripped her waist with one hand and pushed her all the way down his shaft. “Fuck! It’s too big!!” Cersei cried as she shivered on him, pressing her face against the tree beside Ned’s head.

 

She’s trying to hide her face, Ned realised , she doesn’t want me to know she’s enjoying it.

 

The feeling of having Cersei’s tight, hot womanhood surrounding his cock was certainly something Ned would remember till the day he died. She tried to rise off him, but Ned held her down, pushing deeper into her.

 

“You’re even tighter than Genna.” Ned chuckled into her ear.

 

“You’ve bedded my aunt?” That clearly surprised her.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How many times?”

 

“I’ve lost count.”

 

“Does her husband know?”

 

“Ofttimes Mance and I fucked her together.”

 

Cersei sat in Ned’s lap for a time, seemingly contemplating the fact that Ned had fucked her aunt, and was currently balls-deep inside her. “Then I guess it’s time for you to taste the superior Lannister woman.” was all she said as she began to motion her hips back and forth.

 

Ned chuckled as he he felt the intense pleasure of his cock going in and out of Cersei’s cunt. Trying to stifle her moans, Cersei bit her lip as she eased him in and out, only a few inches at a time.

 

Unsatisfied with her slow pace, Ned placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her down as he thrust his hips upward. While his leg was healing by the day, it’s lack of use took the vigour out of Ned’s thrusting. He had to settle for slow and deep, rather than fast and hard.

 

Cersei’s petite moans were soon drowned out by the sound of her ample, fleshy arse-cheeks slapping down on his thighs. Ned had to admit, the queen was an excellent rider. She set a fast rhythm and she kept to it well, her hands braced on Ned’s chest to hold her up.

 

It did not escape Ned’s notice that Cersei’s eyes were closed in pleasure as she rode him, moaning prettily as a flush crept up her cheeks. Her large, firm breasts were bouncing with her every movement, begging for his touch like ripe, round melons.

 

Ned was enraptured by the sight, his hand reached out to cup one breast, bringing a hard nipple to his lips. It tasted of honey as he sucked on her greedily, making Cersei moan even louder, her cunt squeezing his length as it surged forth within her. She had moved her hands from Ned’s chest, to her knees, using them as leverage to bounce herself up and down his shaft.

 

“Knew you couldn’t resist.” Cersei smiled. “All the boys love my breasts...”

 

After a moment, she threw her head back, and her words were replaced with low, deep moans. Ned felt her vice-like cunt stretching around him, quivering and shaking every time his cock plunged deeper.

 

He could tell she was cock-drunk now, where once she had been reserved and cold, now she was eager and wanton. She knew it was wrong, that she would be put to death if they were found out, but she wanted his cock and his seed. To Ned, there were few feelings as satisfying as being wanted by a married woman.

 

They locked eyes, cool grey against bright emerald. She gave him a truly lecherous, cheshire grin. Ned knew she thought she had him then, that he was under her spell, that he could be turned by her cunt.

 

Sorry, Your Grace. Ned thought. But only my wives have that strong a hold on me, I fear.

 

With a predatory grin, Cersei leaned forward against Ned, pushing him fully against the tree behind him, their lips crashing together in a heated embrace. She was resting on her knees now, pressing her body against him fully, her breasts pushed flat against his chest.

 

Ned decided to play along with her, he met her eager lips with equal fervour, their tongues fought a hard battle for dominance as she pressed her hips all the way down against him, taking the full length of his cock inside her. Both were moaning loudly into each other’s mouths as Cersei wrapped her arms tightly around Ned, pulling him closer to her.

 

Ned’s own hand snaked down her flawless back, to the ample curve of her sumptuous behind. Much to Cersei’s surprise, Ned slipped a finger into her arse.

 

First she struggled, moaning into his mouth as he held her in place. Then her eyes fluttered and she rested her head on Ned’s good shoulder, shivering. Her end was near at hand.

 

Using his finger in her bum as leverage, Ned pulled her up and pushed her down on his cock as it throbbed inside her silky womanhood.

 

Again and again.

 

“Ohhh, fuck…” Cersei moaned as Ned took control of her. “Gods… So good…”

 

“Better than Jaime?”

 

“…So much better…” With that, Ned began to thrust up harder, making Cersei scream as her cunt squeezed him tightly, she was close to her end. “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me, Ned! I love your cock!”

 

“You’re a whore!”

 

“YES! I’M A WHORE-QUEEN!” Cersei screamed as she began to tremble violently, the beginnings of her climax reverberating through her. “I’M THE QUEEN OF THE WHORES!!!” She sang as she came to an earth-shattering climax, squirting her release all over Ned’s lap. He continued to thrust up into her as she quivered on-top of him. “Stop, please!” She called as she scrambled off Ned, falling into the grass beside him, her body spasming uncontrollably as she moaned and quivered.

 

Ned sat and watched amusedly as Cersei recuperated, coming down from the high of her powerful climax, hearing her mumble and moan as she was naked, face-down in the grass. Ned would never be able to see her as a dignified queen again. She looked like a well-used whore.

 

“…That was… So amazing…” Cersei managed to pant out after a time, her voice hoarse and her legs still shaking.

 

Ned’s cock was still achingly hard, almost steaming in the cool air of the godswood. Cersei was on her hands and knees in the grass, still panting, the fleshy globes of her arse providing a delicious target.

 

With some difficulty, as his bad leg was starting to hurt again, Ned manoeuvred himself behind her. His cock gave a big wet THWAP! As he slapped it down in the cleft between Cersei’s arse-cheeks. He saw Cersei tense at the feeling, letting out an uncertain moan.

 

“I’m not ready yet…” She stammered as Ned pushed her against the tree.

 

“You’ve had long enough.” Ned took his cock in hand, angled it against her cunt and thrust inside all in one smooth motion. Cersei let out a guttural moan, her fingers clenching the roots of the tree as she shivered around him.

 

It did not deter Ned, he pushed forward, spearing his shaft deeper into the queen. Her golden head dropped low in submission, completely surrendering to Ned’s cock as he plumbed the depths of her womanhood.

 

”You’re s-s-s-soo deep…” Cersei moaned, as inch after inch of his cock surged deeper. She arched her back, pressing back against Ned as her body curved invitingly towards him.

 

“The biggest you’ve ever had?”

 

“Y-y-y-eessss!” It was certainly gratifying for Ned to hear that, as he claimed Cersei’s body. He’d gone deeper inside her than any other, no man other than Ned could say they’d felt the whole of her cunt, because he stretched it’s limits. The heavenly sensations of Cersei’s hot, wet, velvety cunt enveloping him again and again nearly overwhelmed Ned, but his resolve held firm.

 

His hand snaked up her body, beads of perspiration forming on her back from her exertion. Ned’s hand took hold of her long, flowing locks of spun gold, gripping them tightly, pulling Cersei’s head up as he ploughed her.

 

Ned wondered what the people might think if they saw their queen now, being defiled and ravaged in a godswood. The thought pleased him, though he would never admit it. Ned could feel her arousal dripping from her cunt as he fucked her like a wolf and she moaned like a whore.

 

"You're so tight…" Ned grunted, pushing Cersei’s perfect face against the tree, leaning forward as he rammed into her.

 

"You're so big! " Cersei moaned into the bark. Ned sank his cock the whole way into her cunt, pressing as deep as it could go, all the way to the hilt. He let go of her hair, to bring his hand down on her arse, smacking both cheeks three times, making Cersei quiver and moan weakly. “Gods… Gods…”

 

Ned savoured the feeling of being fully encased inside a queen, then he began to slide himself back out, drawing a deep moan from the woman beneath him. Ned would teach her how it felt to be taken. He withdrew from her, slowly, in-by-inch, then slammed home, spearing her deep. Cersei made a sound half a squeal, half a shriek, it was music to Ned’s ears.

 

In and out, he went, sliding some inches out before thrusting back with enough force to make the Cersei shriek with pleasure as she quivered around him. Wet clapping echoed through the godswood as Ned’s pelvis slapped against Cersei’s arse relentlessly, pounding his cock into her womanhood with all the might he could muster.

 

“Gods, you’re even better than Theon...” She moaned. Ned stopped mid thrust, surprised.

 

“You’ve taken Theon Greyjoy into your bed?” He was dumbfounded that Cersei would do such a thing. He thought back to the youth he had barely around Winterfell, and then the Red Keep. The Greyjoy ward was apparently fast friends with Joffrey, so that told Ned all he needed to know about him.

 

“I made sure I was his first.” Cersei moaned in response, confessing to more infidelity. “I wanted to ensure his loyalty to Joff.”

 

“Is that how you earn loyalty from men?” Ned asked, as he went back to thrusting, somewhat harder. “You fuck them?”

 

“Worked for you, didn’t it?” She giggled. “We must all use what the Gods gave us.”

 

“Does your brother know you don’t keep to his bed either?” Ned asked. Silence was all the answer she gave him, so Ned went back to forcing his cock deeper into her cunt.

 

They fucked like animals, rutting in the wood. Harder and harder they went at it, Ned pillaging Cersei’s womb until they reached their mutual end. Cersei’s end came first, screaming her climax into the dirt as Ned pushed her face into the ground to muffle her.

 

Ned was there not long after her. The pressure became too much and Ned emptied his balls directly into her womb. Ned didn’t know how long he spent just holding his pelvis against Cersei as she slumped on the ground, unconscious, but he was surprised when Harper announced himself.

 

“Perhaps we should be going back now.” The captain said.

 

Ned agreed and Harper helped him get dressed, as Cersei still lay, naked and quivering in the grass, either unaware or uncaring that Harper could see her. Ned hefted her up and lightly slapped her awake. Cersei spluttered indignantly as she opened her tired eyes. When she was Harper was there, she tried to cover her modesty, unsuccessfully.

 

“I am still going to tell the king.” Ned told her.

 

She slapped him.

 

“I shall wear that as a badge of honor,” Ned said dryly.

 

“Honor,” she spat, now wide awake and seething. “How dare you play the noble lord with me! You would fuck me, then renege on our deal? You’re just like all other men, lecherous beasts. Tell me, my honorable Prince Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?”

 

“For a start,” said Ned, “I never agreed, you just started fucking me.” He told her matter-of-factly “And second, I do not kill children. You would do well to listen, my lady. For I shall say this only once. When the king returns from his hunt, I will tell him the truth. You must be gone by then. You and your children, all three, and not to Casterly Rock. If I were you, I should take ship for the Free Cities, or even farther, to the Summer Isles or the Port of Ibben. As far as the winds blow.”

 

“Exile,” she said. “A bitter cup to drink from.”

 

“A sweeter cup than your father served my son .” Ned growled, his voice like rumbling thunder.

 

Cersei looked at him in confusion. “Your sons are back in Winterfe-“

 

“Rhaegar did not father Aegon.”

 

Cersei’s face contorted in shock and confusion, with perhaps a little fear at what Ned might do to her to avenge his murdered son. “I… How?” She asked.

 

“At Harrenhal, after Rhaegar crowned Lyanna. Elia sought comfort in my arms. She only told me of Aegon’s true parentage recently.”

 

“Gods…” There was a silence between them, before she spoke again. “I could say you raped me...” She levelled his gaze. “Or you could join me…”

 

“That would be a very poor decision.” Ned looked down at her. “Firstly, your pride would never let you say that publicly. You would be dishonoured. Second, I would deny it for the lie that it is. People would not know who to trust. The king would be called upon. Who would he believe between you and I, I wonder.” Cersei looked to the side, knowing she was beaten. “Be thankful that I am not your father.” Ned told her. “Nor that I am Robert. Take your children and run. Robert’s wrath will follow you.”

 

The queen stood on shaky legs, leaning against the tree. “And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?” she asked softly. Her emerald eyes searched his face. “You should have taken the realm for yourself. It was there for the taking. Jaime told me how you found him on the Iron Throne the day King’s Landing fell, and made him yield it up. That was your moment. All you needed to do was climb those steps, and sit. Such a sad mistake.”

 

“I have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine,” Ned said, “but that was not one of them.”

 

“Oh, but it was, Ned,” Cersei insisted. “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.”

 

She turned, picking up her cloak with all the dignity she could muster, then hobbled away into the night.

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

Ned awoke in the dead of night, the blankets tangled around him, with Yen and Triss on either side. The room was black as pitch, and someone was hammering on the door. “Prince Eddard,” a voice called loudly.

 

“A moment.” Groggy and naked, he stumbled his way across the darkened chamber, he heard Triss stirring awake behind him. When he opened the door, he found Harris with an upraised fist, and Cooper with a torch in hand. Between them stood the king’s own steward. The man’s face might have been carved of stone, so little did it show.

 

“My lord Hand,” the steward intoned. “His Grace the King commands your presence. At once.”

 

So Robert’s returned from his hunt. It’s been long past time.

 

“I’ll need a few moments to dress.” Ned left them waiting without. Triss and Yen helped him with his clothes; white linen tunic with grey breeches cloak, his badge of office, and last of all a belt of heavy silver links. The Valyrian dagger at his waist.

 

The Red Keep was dark and still as Harris and Cooper escorted Ned across the inner bailey. The moon hung low over the walls. On the ramparts, a guardsman in a gold cloak walked his rounds.

 

Ser Boros Blount guarded the far end of the bridge, white steel armor ghostly in the moonlight. Within, Ned passed two other knights of the Kingsguard; Ser Preston Greenfield stood at the bottom of the steps, and Ser Barristan Selmy waited at the door of the king’s bedchamber.

 

Ser Barristan’s face was as pale as his armor. Ned had only to look at him to know that something was dreadfully wrong. The royal steward opened the door. “Prince Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King,” he announced.

 

“Bring him here,” Robert’s voice called, strangely thick.

 

Fires blazed in the twin hearths at either end of the bedchamber, filling the room with a sullen red glare and a terrible heat. Robert lay across the canopied bed, Foebreaker lying on the floor where he had dropped it. At the bedside hovered Grand Maester Pycelle, quietly bringing his potions, while Renly paced restlessly before the shuttered windows.

 

Servants moved back and forth, feeding logs to the fire and boiling wine. Cersei sat on the edge of the bed beside her husband. Her hair was tousled, as if from sleep, but there was nothing sleepy in her eyes. They followed Ned as he walked cross the room.

 

Robert still wore his boots. Ned could see dried mud and blades of grass clinging to the leather where Robert’s feet stuck out beneath the blanket that covered him. A green doublet lay on the floor, slashed open and discarded, the cloth crusted with red-brown stains. The room smelled of smoke and blood and death, mostly death.

 

“Ned,” Robert whispered when he saw him. His face was pale as milk. “Come... closer.”

 

Ned edged closer, steading himself with a hand on the bedpost. He had only to look down at Robert to know how bad it was. “What...?” he began, his throat clenched.

 

“A minotaur.” Lord Renly was still in his hunting greens, his cloak spattered with blood.

 

“A devil,” the king husked. “My own fault. Too much wine, damn me to hell.”

 

“And where were the rest of you?” Ned demanded of Renly. “Where was Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard?”

 

Renly’s mouth twitched. “My brother commanded us to stand aside and let him take the Minotaur alone.”

 

Ned lifted the blanket.

 

They had done what they could to close him up, but it was nowhere near enough. Not even magical healing could save him now. The Minotaur must have been a fearsome thing. It had ripped the king from groin to nipple with its horn. The wine-soaked bandages that Pycelle had applied were already black with blood, and the smell off the wound was hideous. Ned’s stomach turned. He let the blanket fall.

 

“Stinks,” Robert said. “The stink of death, don’t think I can’t smell it. Bastard did me good, eh? But I... I paid him back in kind, Ned.” The king’s smile was as terrible as his wound, his teeth red. “Grasped the bastard by the horns and ripped his head off. Ask them if I didn’t. Ask them.”

 

“Truly,” Lord Renly murmured. “We brought the carcass back with us, at my brother’s command.”

 

“For the feast,” Robert whispered. “I want it to hang on the wall. Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to speak with Ned.”

 

“Robert, my sweet lord...” Cersei began.

 

“I said leave,” Robert insisted with a hint of his old fierceness. “What part of that don’t you understand, woman?”

 

Cersei gathered up her skirts and her dignity and led the way to the door. Renly and the others followed. Grand Maester Pycelle lingered, his hands shaking as he offered the king a cup of thick white liquid.

 

“The milk of the poppy, Your Grace,” he said. “Drink. For your pain.”

 

Robert knocked the cup away with the back of his hand. “Away with you. I’ll sleep soon enough, old fool. Get out.”

 

Grand Maester Pycelle gave Ned a stricken look as he shuffled from the room.

 

“Damn you, Robert,” Ned said when they were alone. His leg was throbbing, but he had to ignore it. Ned lowered himself to the bed, beside his friend. “Why do you always have to be so headstrong?”

 

“Ah, fuck you, Ned,” Robert said hoarsely. “I killed the bastard, didn’t I?” A lock of matted black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at Ned. “Ought to do the same for you. Can’t leave a man to hunt in peace. Ser Robar found me. Calling Tywin Lannister to court.” His laugh turned into a grunt as a spasm of pain hit him. “Gods have mercy,” he muttered, swallowing his agony. “The girl. Daenerys, her mother and sisters… you were right... that’s why, the girl... the gods sent the minotaur... sent to punish me...” Robert coughed, bringing up blood. “Wrong, it was wrong, I... Varys, Pycelle, even my brother... worthless... no one to tell me no but you, Ned... only you...” He lifted his hand, the gesture pained and feeble. “Paper and ink. There, on the table. Write what I tell you.”

 

Ned smoothed the paper out across his knee and took up the quill. “At your command, Your Grace.”

 

“This is the will and word of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and all the rest—put in the damn titles, you know how it goes. I do hereby command Eddard of House Stark, Prince of Winterfell and Hand of the King, to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my... upon my death... to rule in my... in my stead, until my son Joffrey does come of age...”

 

“Robert...” Joffrey is not your son, he wanted to say, but the words would not come. The agony was written too plainly across Robert’s face; he could not hurt him more. So Ned bent his head and wrote, but where the king had said “my son Joffrey,” he scrawled “my heir” instead. The deceit made him feel soiled. The lies we tell for love, he thought. May the gods forgive me. “What else would you have me say?”

 

“Say... Whatever you need to. Protect and defend, gods old and new, you have the words. Write. I’ll sign it. You give it to the council when I’m dead.”

 

“Robert,” Ned said in a voice thick with grief, “you must not do this. Don’t die on me. The realm needs you.”

 

Robert took his hand, fingers squeezing hard. “You are... such a bad liar, Ned Stark,” he said through his pain. “The realm... the realm knows... what a wretched king I’ve been. Bad as Aerys, the gods spare me.”

 

“No,” Ned told his dying friend, “not so bad as Aerys, Your Grace. Not near so bad as Aerys.”

 

Robert managed a weak red smile. “At the least, they will say... this last thing... this I did right. You won’t fail me. You’ll rule now. You’ll hate it, worse than I did... but you’ll do well. Are you done with the scribbling?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Ned offered Robert the paper. The king scrawled his signature blindly, leaving a smear of blood across the letter. “The seal should be witnessed.”

 

“The Targaryens” Robert said. “Let them live. If you can, if it’s... not too late... talk to them... Varys, Pycelle... don’t let them kill them. And help my son, Ned. Make him be... better than me.” He winced. “Gods have mercy.”

 

“They will, my friend,” Ned said. “They will.”

 

The king closed his eyes and seemed to relax. “Killed by a bull,” he muttered. “Ought to laugh, but it hurts too much.”

 

Ned was not laughing. “Shall I call them back?”

 

Robert gave a weak nod. “As you will. Gods, why is it so cold in here?”

 

The servants rushed back in and hurried to feed the fires. The queen had gone; that was some small relief, at least. If she had any sense, Cersei would take her children and flee before the break of day, Ned thought. She had lingered too long already.

 

Robert did not seem to miss her. He bid Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle to stand in witness as he pressed his seal into the hot yellow wax that Ned had dripped upon his letter. “Now give me something for the pain and let me die.”

 

Hurriedly Grand Maester Pycelle mixed him another draught of the milk of the poppy. This time the king drank deeply. His black beard was beaded with thick white droplets when he threw the empty cup aside. “Will I dream?”

 

Ned gave him his answer. “You will, my lord.”

 

“Good,” he said, smiling. “I should have liked to have seen Lyanna again... Take care of my children for me.”

 

The words twisted in Ned’s belly like a knife. For a moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother’s breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. “I shall... guard your children as if they were my own,” he said slowly.

 

Robert nodded and closed his eyes. Ned watched his old friend sag softly into the pillows as the milk of the poppy washed the pain from his face. Sleep took him.

 

Heavy chains jangled softly as Grand Maester Pycelle came up to Ned. “I will do all in my power, my lord, but the wound has mortified. It took them two days to get him back. By the time I saw him, it was too late. I can lessen His Grace’s suffering, but only the gods can heal him now.”

 

“How long?” Ned asked.

 

“By rights, he should be dead already. I have never seen a man cling to life so fiercely.”

 

“My brother was always strong,” Renly said. “Not wise, perhaps, but strong.” In the sweltering heat of the bedchamber, his brow was slick with sweat. “He slew the beast. His entrails were sliding from his belly, yet somehow he grabbed it by it’s horns and ripped the Minotaur’s head clean off.” His voice was full of wonder.

 

“Robert was never a man to leave the battleground so long as a foe remained standing,” Ned told him.

 

Outside the door, Ser Barristan Selmy still guarded the tower stairs. “Maester Pycelle has given Robert the milk of the poppy,” Ned told him. “See that no one disturbs his rest without leave from me.”

 

“It shall be as you command, my lord.” Ser Barristan seemed old beyond his years. “I have failed my sacred trust.”

 

“Even the best knight cannot protect a king against himself,” Ned said. “Robert loved to hunt. No one could know this one would be his death.”

 

“You are kind to say so, Prince Eddard.”

 

“The king himself said as much. He blamed the wine.”

 

The white-haired knight gave a weary nod. “His Grace was reeling in his saddle by the time we flushed the boar from his lair, he slew the boar easily enough, yet he commanded us all to stand aside when the Minotaur came for the boar.”

 

“I wonder, Ser Barristan,” asked Varys, so quietly, “who gave the king this wine?”

 

Ned had not heard the eunuch approach, but when he looked around, there he stood. He wore a black velvet robe that brushed the floor, and his face was freshly powdered.

 

“The wine was from the king’s own skin,” Ser Barristan said.

 

“Only one skin? Hunting is such thirsty work.”

 

“I did not keep count. More than one, for a certainty. His squire would fetch him a fresh skin whenever he required it.”

 

“Such a dutiful boy,” said Varys, “to make certain His Grace did not lack for refreshment.”

 

Ned had a bitter taste in his mouth. He recalled the two fair-haired boys Robert had sent chasing after a breastplate stretcher. The king had told everyone the tale that night at the feast, laughing until he shook. “Which squire?”

 

“The elder,” said Ser Barristan. “Lancel.”

 

“I know the lad well,” said Varys. “A stalwart boy, Ser Kevan Lannister’s son, nephew to Lord Tywin and cousin to the queen. I hope the dear sweet lad does not blame himself. Children are so vulnerable in the innocence of their youth, how well do I remember.”

 

Certainly Varys had once been young. Ned doubted that he had ever been innocent. “Robert had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen and her family. Whatever arrangements you made, I want unmade. At once.”

 

“Alas,” said Varys. “At once may be too late. I fear those birds have flown. But I shall do what I can, my lord. With your leave.” He bowed and vanished down the steps, his soft-soled slippers whispering against the stone as he made his descent.

 

Harris and Cooper were helping Ned across the bridge when Lord Renly emerged from Maegor’s Holdfast. “Prince Eddard,” he called after Ned, “a moment, if you would be so kind.”

 

Ned stopped. “As you wish.”

 

Renly walked to his side. “Send your men away.” They met in the center of the bridge, the dry moat beneath them. Moonlight silvered the cruel edges of the spikes that lined its bed.

 

Ned gestured. His Chosen Men bowed their heads and backed away respectfully. Renly glanced warily at Ser Boros on the far end of the span, at Ser Preston in the doorway behind them. “That letter.” He leaned close. “Was it the regency? He was telling me to tell you if he didn’t survive long enough to get back here. Has my brother named you Protector?” He did not wait for a reply. “My lord, I have thirty men in my personal guard, and other friends beside, knights and lords. Give me an hour, and I can put a hundred swords in your hand.”

 

“And what should I do with a hundred swords, my lord?”

 

“Strike! Now, while the castle sleeps.” Renly looked back at Ser Boros again and dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. “We must get Joffrey away from his mother and take him in hand. Protector or no, the man who holds the king holds the kingdom. We should seize Myrcella and Tommen as well. Once we have her children, Cersei will not dare oppose us. The council will confirm you as Lord Protector and make Joffrey your ward.”

 

Ned regarded him coldly. “Robert is not dead yet. The gods may spare him. If not, I shall convene the council to hear his final words and consider the matter of the succession, but I will not dishonor his last hours on earth by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Thoughts of little Aegon and Elia’s scream ran through his mind.

 

Lord Renly took a step back, taut as a bowstring. “Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it may be too late... for both of us.”

 

“Then we should pray that Robert does not die.”

 

“Small chance of that,” said Renly.

 

“Sometimes the gods are merciful.”

 

“The Lannisters are not.” Lord Renly turned away and went back across the moat, to the tower where his brother lay dying.

 

By the time Ned returned to his chambers, he felt weary and heartsick, yet there was no question of his going back to sleep, not now. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die, Cersei Lannister had told him in the godswood. He found himself wondering if he had done the right thing by refusing Renly’s offer. He had no taste for these intrigues, and there was no honor in threatening children, and yet... if Cersei elected to fight rather than flee, he might well have need of Renly’s hundred swords, and more besides. Ned found himself regretting that his three hundred Winter Wolves had not yet arrived.

 

Ned turned to Harper, who had been waiting for him with Yennefer and Triss. “The Wind Witch sails on the evening tide. How far have the preparations come along?”

 

“Almost everyone is on the ship right now, other than fighting men that is.”

 

“Everyone will be on the ship tomorrow?”

 

“All who are leaving, yes.”

 

“You say your illusions will hold until all are away?” Ned turned to Yennefer, who was sitting up in the bed.

 

“Yes. Not even the Grand Maester himself should be able to see the illusions for what they are until our people are out.”

 

“Good.” Ned said, stroking his chin. “They will pass near Dragonstone when they turn north. I need one of the Chosen Men to deliver a letter for me.”

 

Harper looked apprehensive. “To Dragonstone?” The island fortress of House Targaryen had a sinister repute.

 

“Tell the captain to hoist my banner as soon as he comes in sight of the island. They may be wary of unexpected visitors. If he is reluctant, offer him whatever it takes. I will give you a letter to give to Perkins, he will place it into the hand of Lord Stannis Baratheon. No one else. Not his steward, nor the captain of his guard, nor his lady wife, but only Lord Stannis himself.”

 

“As you command, Ned.”

 

When Harper had left them and Yen had gone to bed with Triss, Ned sat staring at the flame of the candle that burned beside him on the table. For a moment his grief overwhelmed him. He wanted nothing so much as to seek out the godswood, to kneel before the heart tree and pray for the life of Robert Baratheon, who had been more than a brother to him. Men would whisper afterward that Eddard Stark had betrayed his king’s friendship and disinherited his sons; he could only hope that the gods would know better, and that Robert would learn the truth of it in the land beyond the grave.

 

Ned took out the king’s last letter. A roll of crisp white parchment sealed with golden wax, a few short words and a smear of blood.

 

He drew out a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his quill in the inkpot. To His Grace, Stannis of the House Baratheon, he wrote. By the time you receive this letter, your brother Robert, our King these past fifteen years, will be dead. He was savaged by a minotaur whilst hunting in the kingswood...

 

The letters seemed to writhe and twist on the paper as his hand trailed to a stop. Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime were not men to suffer disgrace meekly; they would fight rather than flee. No doubt Lord Stannis was wary, after the murder of Jon Arryn, but it was imperative that he sail for King’s Landing at once with all his power, before the Lannisters could march.

 

Ned chose each word with care. When he was done, he signed the letter Eddard Stark, Prince of Winterfell, Hand of the King, and Protector of the Realm, blotted the paper, folded it twice, and melted the sealing wax over the candle flame.

 

His regency would be a short one, he reflected as the wax softened. The new king would choose his own Hand. Ned would finally be free to go home. The thought of Winterfell brought a smile to his face. He wanted to be with the children he left in Winterfell, and the babes his wives grew in their bellies. He wanted to drift off to a dreamless sleep in his own bed with his arm wrapped tight around his wives.

 

Ned called for Yen as he was pressing the direwolf seal down into the soft white wax, knowing he would need her.

 

“This is a perilous hour for all of us. Robert has named me Protector, true enough, but in the eyes of the world, Joffrey is still his son and heir. The queen has two dozen knights and two hundred men who will do whatever she commands... Enough to overwhelm what remains of my own household guard. And for all I know, her brother Jaime may be riding for King’s Landing even as we speak, with a Lannister host at his back.”

 

“If only we’d sent for those three hundred Winter Wolves sooner, they could still be weeks away.” Yennefer toyed with a long lock of her raven curls. “There is small love lost between Renly and the Lannisters. Bronze Yohn Royce, Ser Balon Swann, Ser Loras, Lady Tanda, the Redwyne twins... Each of them has a retinue of knights and sworn swords here at court.”

 

“Renly has thirty men in his personal guard, the rest even fewer. It is not enough, even if we could be certain that all of them will choose to give us their allegiance. We must have the gold cloaks. The City Watch is two thousand strong, sworn to defend the castle, the city, and the king’s peace.”

 

“Ah, but when the queen proclaims one king and the Hand another, whose peace do they protect?” She let the silence hang in the air for a moment. “They follow the man who pays them…” His Master of Coin smiled at him. “Or in this case, the woman...”

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

The grey light of dawn was streaming through his window when the thunder of hoofbeats awoke Ned from his brief, exhausted sleep, Yen and Triss on either side of him. He lifted his head from the bed to look down into the yard. Below, men in golden armour and crimson cloaks were making the morning ring to the sound of swords, and riding down mock warriors stuffed with straw. Ned watched Sandor Clegane gallop across the hard-packed ground to drive an iron-tipped lance through a dummy’s head. Canvas ripped and straw exploded as Lannister guardsmen joked and cursed.

 

Is this brave show for my benefit? He wondered. If so, Cersei was a greater fool than he’d imagined. Damn her, he thought, why has the woman not fled? I have given her chance after chance...

 

The morning was overcast and grim. Ned broke his fast with his daughters. Sansa delicately ate her food with a knife and fork, but Arya wolfed down everything that was set in front of her. “Syrio says we have time for one last lesson before we take ship this evening,” she said. “Can I, Father? All my things are packed.”

 

“A short lesson, and make certain you leave yourself time to bathe and change. I want you ready to leave before midday, is that understood?”

 

“Before midday,” Arya said.

 

“How will we take Sunbeam with us?” Sansa asked. The answer was Ned did not know. It seemed she was too sick to fly, and there was no way to remove a dragon from the Dragonpit without being noticed.

 

“I’ll look after her until she’s well enough to travel again.” Ned told her. The answer clearly not satisfying Samsa.

 

“Can I at least say goodbye to her before we go?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It was an hour later when Grand Maester Pycelle came to Ned in his solar. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the great maester’s chain around his neck had become too great to bear. “My lord,” he said, “King Robert is gone. The gods give him rest.”

 

“No,” Ned answered. “He hated rest. The gods give him love and laughter, and the joy of righteous battle.” It was strange how empty he felt. He had been expecting the visit, and yet with those words, something died within him. He would have given all his titles for the freedom to weep... But he was Robert’s Hand, and the hour he dreaded had come. “Be so good as to summon the members of the council here to my solar,” he told Pycelle. The Tower of the Hand was as secure as he and what remained of his men could make it; he could not say the same for the council chambers.

 

“My lord?” Pycelle blinked. “Surely the affairs of the kingdom will keep till the morrow, when our grief is not so fresh.”

 

Ned was quiet but firm. “I fear we must convene at once.”

 

Pycelle bowed. “As the Hand commands.” He called his servants and sent them running, then gratefully accepted Ned’s offer of a chair and a cup of sweet beer.

 

Ser Barristan Selmy was the first to answer the summons, immaculate in white cloak and enameled scales. “My lords,” he said, “my place is beside the young king now. Pray give me leave to attend him.”

 

“Your place is here, Ser Barristan,” Ned told him.

 

Yennefer was next came next, garbed as ever, in immaculate black and white. “My lords,” she said, smiling at nothing in particular before she turned to Ned. “That little task you set me is accomplished, My Prince.”

 

Varys entered in a wash of lavender, pink from his bath, his plump face scrubbed and freshly powdered, his soft slippers all but soundless. “The little birds sing a grievous song today,” he said as he seated himself. “The realm weeps. Shall we begin?”

 

“When Lord Renly arrives,” Ned said.

 

Varys gave him a sorrowful look. “I fear Lord Renly has left the city.”

 

“Left the city?” Ned had counted on Renly’s support.

 

“He took his leave through a postern gate an hour before dawn, accompanied by Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers,” Varys told them. “When last seen, they were galloping south in some haste, no doubt bound for Storm’s End or Highgarden.”

 

So much for Renly and his hundred swords. Ned did not like the smell of that, but there was nothing to be done for it. He drew out Robert’s last letter. “The king called me to his side last night and commanded me to record his final words. Lord Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle stood witness as Robert sealed the letter, to be opened by the council after his death. Ser Barristan, if you would be so kind?”

 

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard examined the paper. “King Robert’s seal, and unbroken.” He opened the letter and read. “Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until the heir comes of age.”

 

And as it happens, he is of age, Ned reflected, but he did not give voice to the thought. He trusted neither Pycelle nor Varys, and Ser Barristan was honor-bound to protect and defend the boy he thought his new king. The old knight would not abandon Joffrey easily. The need for deceit was a bitter taste in his mouth, but Ned knew he must tread softly here, must keep his counsel and play the game until he was firmly established as regent.

 

There would be time enough to deal with the succession when Arya and Sansa were safely back in Winterfell, and Stannis had returned to King’s Landing with all his power.

 

“I would ask this council to confirm me as Lord Protector, as Robert wished,” Ned said, watching their faces, wondering what thoughts hid behind Pycelle’s half-closed eyes and the nervous flutter of Varys’s fingers.

 

The door opened. Harper stepped into the solar. “Pardon, my lords, the king’s steward insists...”

 

The royal steward entered and bowed. “Esteemed lords, the king demands the immediate presence of his small council in the throne room.”

 

Ned had expected Cersei to strike quickly; the summons came as no surprise. “The king is dead,” he said, “but we shall go with you nonetheless. Harper, assemble an escort, if you would.”

 

Yen gave Ned her arm to help him down the steps. Varys, Pycelle, and Ser Barristan followed close behind. Harper assembled a guard of eight Ice Guard along with Beric and Arthur, the other Chosen Men were strewn about the castle, either protecting his children, or watching over the evacuation of his people. Grey cloaks snapped in the wind as the guardsmen marched them across the yard. There was no Lannister crimson to be seen, but Ned was reassured by the number of gold cloaks visible on the ramparts and at the gates. They had no enhancements at all, but their numbers, along with his own forces would prove more than a match of Cersei’s men.

 

Janos Slynt met them at the door to the throne room, armored in ornate black-and-gold plate, with a high-crested helm under one arm. The Commander bowed stiffly. His men pushed open the great oaken doors, twenty feet tall and banded with bronze. Ned found himself remembering himself entering the throne room at the end of the Rebellion, in search of Aerys.

 

The royal steward led them in. “All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” he sang out.

 

Joffrey waited atop the Iron Throne, much like his father had, his true father. Using his cain to steady himself, Ned walked towards the boy who called himself king. The others followed. The first time he had come this way, the Targaryen dragons had watched from the walls as he forced Jaime Lannister down from the throne. He wondered if Joffrey would step down quite so easily. As Ned walked from the door to the throne, he could not shake the ominous feeling that something was being hidden from him. Something in the corner of his eye…

 

Five knights of the Kingsguard—all but Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan—were arrayed in a crescent around the base of the throne. They were in full armor, enameled steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders, shining white shields strapped to their left arms. Cersei Lannister stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. The queen wore a gown of sea-green silk, trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as foam.

 

Above them, Joffrey sat amidst the barbs and spikes in a cloth-of-gold doublet and a red satin cape. Sandor Clegane was stationed at the foot of the throne’s steep narrow stair. He wore mail and soot-grey plate and his snarling dog’s-head helm.

 

Behind the throne, twenty of the Gold Legion waited with longswords hanging from their belts. Crimson cloaks draped their shoulders and golden lions crested their helms. However, all along the walls, in front of Robert’s tapestries with their scenes of hunt and battle, the gold-cloaked ranks of the City Watch stood stiffly to attention, each man’s hand clasped around the haft of an eight-foot-long spear tipped in black iron. They outnumbered the Lannisters more than six to one.

 

Ned’s leg was irritating him again by the time he stopped. He leaned a hand on his cain as he stood before the throne, letting it take his weight.

 

Joffrey stood. His red satin cape was patterned in gold thread; fifty roaring lions to one side, fifty prancing stags to the other. “I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation,” the boy proclaimed. “I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.”

 

Ned produced Robert’s letter. “Lord Varys, be so kind as to show this to my lady of Lannister.”

 

The eunuch carried the letter to Cersei. The queen glanced at the words. “Protector of the Realm,” she read. “Is this meant to be your shield? A piece of paper?” She ripped the letter in half, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor.

 

“Those were the king’s words…” Ser Barristan said, shocked.

 

“We have a new king now,” Cersei Lannister replied. “Prince Eddard, when last we spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and live out your days in the grey waste you call home.”

 

“Would that I could,” Ned said grimly. If she was so determined to force the issue here and now, she left him no choice. “Your son has no claim to the throne he sits. Lord Stannis is Robert’s true heir.”

 

“Liar!” Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.

 

“Them summon Robert’s hammer.” Ned pointed to Joffrey. “Foebreaker was wielded by Robert, his father and his many grandsires before him. If you are Robert’s son, the hammer should answer to you and only you.”

 

A quiet murmur went through the court as Joffrey looked to Cersei, both of them silent. Joffrey held out his hand like Robert always did to call the hammer. For a second, Ned wondered if he and Cersei were wrong and he really was Robert’s son. Thankfully, Ned got his answer when the hammer did not come.

 

“He must have placed some curse on it.” Cersei said, shrilly. “He wants to take the throne for himself. Ser Barristan, seize this traitor.”

 

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hesitated. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Ice Guard, their blue swords pointing at him.

 

“And now the treason moves from words to deeds,” Cersei said. “Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone, my lord?” With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his large longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.

 

“Kill him!” the boy screamed down from the Iron Throne. “Kill all of them, I command it!”

 

“You leave me no choice,” Ned told Cersei. He called out to Janos Slynt. “Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.”

 

“Men of the Watch!” Janos Slynt shouted, donning his helm. Over a hundred gold cloaks leveled their spears and closed.

 

“I want no bloodshed,” Ned told the queen. “Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need—”

 

With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into the back of one of the Ice Guard, the tip bounced harmlessly of the glowing-blue armour. A shout escaped Ned’s lips as the Ice Guard turned around and struck down the gold cloak who attacked him with one blow, shattering the steel of the man’s armour.

 

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion.

 

Other gold cloaks were attacking his men, Ned realised they were outnumbered by at least ten to one. Feeling Ice, he summoned the blade to his hand, if this was to be his end, he would take every man he could with him.

 

Before Ice could reach him, one of the gold cloaks was on him. Ned froze the man solid with a single cold blast. Unsheathing his Valyrian steel dagger, he threw it at another, it’s point burying deep into the man’s face.

 

His leg was a hinderance to his movement, so Ned formed a shield of ice against a magical attack from a Lannister mage. Hearing the breaking of stone and wood, Ned knew Ice had finally arrived. His family sword cut a bloody swath through the gold cloaks to his hand.

 

Ned heard a deep war cry and saw Arthur, Beric and Harper fighting through men armoured in gold to get to him. More of the Gold Legion were appearing as if from nowhere.

 

An illusion, Ned realised. That was why he felt there was something amiss. They had lead him into a trap, and Ned had blindly followed. Now his people would pay dearly for it.

 

Janos Slynt let out a blood-curdling scream as Yennefer set the man ablaze, balls first, when he attacked her. She then sent three large fireballs directly at Cersei and Joffrey. Ned saw fear in Cersei’s eyes before the fires were snuffed out by a golden ward-shield that their mages cast to protect them.

 

The Ice Guard were some of the strongest warriors in Westeros, yet even they could not prevail against such numbers. One fell to five of the Gold Legion, their swords rising and falling on his fallen body. Another was being savaged by two trolls and a great-lion.

 

“The girls!” Ned shouted to Harper, Arthur, Beric and Yen. Two dozen men were pouring between them now, Ned knew there would be no escape for him.

 

“We won’t leave you!” Beric roared as he cut two men down with one swing of his sword.

 

“Now!” Ned ordered. He could see tears in Yen’s eyes as she blasted a way for the four of them to flee. He was alone in the throne room now.

 

“After them!” Cersei shrieked, then looked at Ned cruelly. “And bring me his daughters!”

 

“NO!” Ned roared as rage enveloped him, he felt his body change and grow. In seconds Ned stood in his wolf-man form, twelve feet tall and full of burning anger.

 

Ned howled as some men ran away from him and leaped at Cersei, only for the Hound to bury his sword deep in Ned’s gut in mid air, knocking him to the ground. The Hound pulled the sword out of Ned and it began to melt away, his blood dissolving the metal.

 

A single swipe of his hand sent the Hound flying into one of the columns, cracking it badly. Then three King’s Guard were on him, hacking and slashing. Ned weathered the pain, gripped one by the leg, swinging the screaming man around, using him to batter his brothers away, before ripping him in half.

 

A hundred of the Gold Legion replaced them, with long spears that burned when they pierced his hide, but Ned fought on.

 

Mages tried to bind him with magical chains. When that didn’t work, they tried streams of fire, but Ned fought on.

 

He fought alone against an army, rivers of blood flooded the throne room floor.

 

Until eventually, Ned fell…

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

“High,” Syrio Forel called out, slashing at her head. Their stick swords clacked as Arya parried. “Left,” he shouted, and his blade came whistling. Hers darted to meet it. The clack made him click his teeth together. “Right,” he said, and “Low,” and “Left,” and “Left” again, faster and faster, moving forward. Arya retreated before him, checking each blow.

 

“Lunge,” he warned, and when he thrust she sidestepped, swept his blade away, and slashed at his shoulder. She almost touched him, almost, so close it made her grin. A strand of hair dangled in her eyes, limp with sweat. She pushed it away with the back of her hand.

 

“Left,” Syrio sang out. “Low.” His sword was a blur, and the small hall echoed to the clack clack clack. “Left. Left. High. Left. Right. Left. Low. Left!”

 

The wooden blade caught her high in the breast, a sudden stinging blow that hurt all the more because it came from the wrong side.

 

“Ow!” she cried out. She would have a fresh bruise there by the time she went to sleep, somewhere out at sea. A bruise is a lesson, she told herself, and each lesson makes us better.

 

Syrio stepped back. “You are dead now.”

 

Arya made a face. “You cheated,” she said hotly. “You said left and you went right.”

 

“Just so. And now you are a dead girl.”

 

“But you lied!”

 

“My words lied. My eyes and my arm shouted out the truth, but you were not seeing.”

 

“I was so,” Arya said. “I watched you every second!”

 

“Watching is not seeing, dead girl. The water dancer sees. Come, put down the sword, it is time for listening now.”

 

She followed him over to the wall, where he settled onto a bench, next to where the sword her father gave him lay in it’s scabbard. “Syrio Forel was First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos, and are you knowing how that came to pass?”

 

“You were the finest swordsman in the city.”

 

“Just so, but why? Other men were stronger, faster, younger, why was Syrio Forel the best? I will tell you now.” He touched the tip of his little finger lightly to his eyelid. “The seeing, the true seeing, that is the heart of it. Hear me. The ships of Braavos sail as far as the winds blow, to lands strange and wonderful, and when they return their captains fetch queer animals to the Sealord’s menagerie. Such animals as you have never seen, striped horses, great spotted things with necks as long as stilts, hairy mouse-pigs as big as cows, stinging manticores, tigers that carry their cubs in a pouch, terrible walking lizards with scythes for claws. Syrio Forel has seen these things. On the day I am speaking of, the first sword was newly dead, and the Sealord sent for me. Many bravos had come to him, and as many had been sent away, none could say why. When I came into his presence, he was seated, and in his lap was a fat yellow cat. He told me that one of his captains had brought the beast to him, from an island beyond the sunrise. ‘Have you ever seen her like?’ he asked of me. And to him I said, ‘Each night in the alleys of Braavos I see a thousand like him,’ and the Sealord laughed, that day I was named the First Sword and given the enhancements that befit the rank.”

 

Arya screwed up her face. “I don’t understand.”

 

Syrio clicked his teeth together. “The cat was an ordinary cat, no more. The others expected a fabulous beast, so that is what they saw. How large it was, they said. It was no larger than any other cat, only fat from indolence, for the Sealord fed it from his own table. What curious small ears, they said. Its ears had been chewed away in kitten fights. And it was plainly a tomcat, yet the Sealord said ‘her,’ and that is what the others saw. Are you hearing?”

 

Arya thought about it. “You saw what was there.”

 

“Just so. Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.”

 

“Just so,” said Arya, grinning.

 

Syrio Forel allowed himself a smile. “I am thinking that when we are reaching this Winterfell of yours, it will be time to put this needle in your hand.”

 

“Yes!” Arya said eagerly. “Wait till I show Jon—”

 

Behind her the great wooden doors of the Small Hall flew open with a resounding crash. Arya whirled.

A knight of the Kingsguard stood beneath the arch of the door with Lannister men arrayed behind him. He was in full armor, but his visor was up. Arya remembered his droopy eyes and rust-colored whiskers from when he had come to Winterfell with the king: Ser Meryn Trant. The red cloaks wore gold plate armour. “Arya Stark,” the knight said, “come with us, child.”

 

Arya chewed her lip uncertainly. “What do you want? Where’s Cooper?” The Chosen Man should have been guarding her door.

 

Ser Meyrn turned to one of his men. “Find him.” He ordered, then turned back to Arya as the man left. “Your father wants to see you.”

 

Arya took a step forward, but Syrio Forel held her by the arm.

 

“And why is it that Prince Eddard is sending Lannister men in the place of his own? I am wondering.”

 

“Mind your place, dancing master,” Ser Meryn said. “This is no concern of yours.”

 

“My father wouldn’t send you,” Arya said. She snatched up her stick sword. “I don’t have to go with you if I don’t want.”

 

Ser Meryn Trant ran out of patience. “Take her,” he said to his men. He lowered the visor of his helm.

 

Three of them started forward, their armour clinking softly with each step. Arya was suddenly afraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself, to slow the racing of her heart.

 

Syrio Forel stepped between them, his sword was still in it’s scabbard when it flew to his left hand. “You will be stopping there. Are you men or dogs that you would threaten a child?”

 

“Out of the way, old man,” one of the red cloaks said.

 

Syrio’s sword came whistling up and rang against his helm, he hadn’t even removed the scabbard yet. “I am Syrio Forel, and you will now be speaking to me with more respect.”

 

“Bald bastard.” The man yanked free his longsword. Syrio moved again, blindingly fast. Arya heard a loud crack as the longsword went clattering to the stone floor. “My hand!” the guardsman yelped, cradling his broken fingers.

 

“You are quick, for a dancing master.” said Ser Meryn.

 

“You are slow, for a knight.” Syrio replied, cheekily.

 

“Kill the Braavosi and bring me the girl.” the knight in the white armour commanded.

 

Three gold men unsheathed their swords. The forth, with the broken fingers, spat and pulled free a dagger with his left hand.

 

Syrio Forel clicked his teeth together, sliding into his water dancer’s stance, presenting only his side to the foe. “Arya child,” he called out, never looking, never taking his eyes off the Lannisters, “we are done with dancing for the day. Best you are going now. Run to your father.”

 

Arya did not want to leave him, but he had taught her to do as he said. “Swift as a deer,” she whispered.

 

“Just so,” said Syrio Forel as the Lannisters closed.

 

Arya retreated, her own sword stick clutched tightly in her hand. Watching him now, she realized that Syrio had only been toying with her when they dueled. The men came at him from three sides with steel in their hands.

 

Syrio did not wait for them to reach him, but spun to his left. Arya had never seen a man move as fast. He checked one sword with his own and whirled away from a second. Off balance, the second man lurched into the first. Syrio put a boot to his back and the gold men went down together. The third guard came leaping over them, slashing at the water dancer’s head. Syrio ducked under his blade and thrust upward into the eye-slit of his helmet. The man fell screaming as blood welled from underneath his helm.

 

The fallen men were getting up. Syrio kicked one in the helmet stomped on the knee of another, breaking it. The dagger man stabbed at him. Syrio caught the thrust in the hilt of his sword and shattered the man’s kneecap with another kick.

 

Four men were down, dead, or dying by the time Arya reached the back door that opened to another corridor. She heard Ser Meryn Trant curse. “Bloody oafs,” he swore, drawing his longsword from its scabbard.

 

Syrio Forel resumed his stance and clicked his teeth together. Ser Meryn slashed at him angrily. Syrio sidestepped his cut and struck him on the back of the helmet with his scabbarded blade. The King’s Guard grunted as he advanced against Syrio, backing him into a corner.

 

“I admit, that you are very strong.” Syrio smiled as Ser Meryn advanced. “Stronger even than I.”

 

“Then why are you smiling?” Ser Meryn hacked away, the metal of his sword clacking against Syrio’s scabbard.

 

“Because I know something you don’t know.” Syrio sang as Ser Meryn grabbed the scabbard, holding it in place as he raised his sword high.

 

“What’s that then?”

 

“I am not left-handed.”

 

Syrio then moved with speed and grace that Arya had only seen from her uncle Arthur. Her dancing master ducked under Ser Meryn’s elbow, twisting around him as he finally pulled his sword from it’s sheath with his right hand.

 

Ser Meryn yelled as he turned and slashed at Syrio, who ducked under the blow, thrusting his very thin blade of pure Uru right there , into the tiny gap under Ser Meryn’s helmet.

 

The metal sang as the blade slid against it, right through Ser Meryn’s head.

 

The two men stayed still for a few moments. Then Syrio withdrew his blade as blood started the flow from the King’s Guard’s helmet. Ser Meryn fell to his knees, then slumped to the floor, dead.

 

“I was only gone for a piss.” Cooper came through the open door, covered in the blood of other men.

 

“Cooper!” She ran into her guards arms, he gripped her tight. “What’s happening? Where’s father?” She asked when she pulled away.

 

“The Lannisters sent men to take her.” Syrio told Cooper as he picked up his scabbard.

 

“Then you protected her when I did not.” Cooper nodded at Syrio in thanks before stroking his chin, thoughtfully. “Your father would want us to take you to the ship.” He finally said. “Come.”

 

“What about father and Sansa?” Arya asked.

 

“Harris’ll do the same thing. Come.” Cooper nocked an arrow to his bow.

 

“Arya!” Uncle Arthur called as he ran into the hall, somehow covered in even more blood that Cooper, Dawn glowing brightly in his hand. “To the ship. Now!” He ordered. “Beric’s collecting Sansa. Quickly, run!”

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

 

Sansa was furious as she stormed out of the Red Keep’s bath houses with Myrcella calling after her. She couldn’t believe her brothers would do such a thing. That was a lie. This was exactly the kind of thing they always did.

 

The South had been a great boon to Sansa, as for the first time since she had taken an interest in girls, her older siblings weren’t there to get to them first. Taking Marg and her cousins to bed had been amazing, and even more amazing was the fact that she had been the first Stark to fuck them.

 

Back in Winterfell, all the girls she had wanted to take to bed had already been with both her older brothers and older sister, it was maddening. King’s Landing had been an excellent hunting ground for Sansa and she had just been in the process of claiming the finest game around, Princess Myrcella.

 

She absolutely could not leave King’s Landing without having tasted the Baratheon Princess. So Sansa had invited Myrcella to bathe together in the Red Keep’s bathhouses, where she had worked her seduction. Soon enough, the Princess was mewling like a kitten as Sansa expertly licked her cunt. It had all been going so well, until Myrcella moaned that she was even better at eating cunt than Jon.

 

Of course I am.

 

That had put a swift end to their liaison.

 

Sansa was in a mood to tell her father what both of her brothers had done. It would serve them right for beating her to the punch… Again.

 

“Done so soon, Princess?” Harris chuckled, looking up from the small book of poetry she had given him as he stood from the bench he had been sitting on. Harris was the Chosen Man Sansa liked best as they shared an interest in books and stories, often exchanging tales and discussing them at length. Sansa just huffed as she walked past him. “I know that look…”

 

“Not one word.” She snapped, perhaps a little too harshly. But he was laughing at her misfortune, so he deserved it. Harris fell in step behind her, she could sense his smirk. “Yes. Fine!” Sansa finally admitted. “Must those two walking cocks have every pretty girl within ten miles of them!?”

 

She was about to start ranting about the unfairness of it all before Harris stopped her, with his hand on her arm, the other taking his bow off his shoulder.

 

“Can you hear it?” He asked her.

 

“What?”

 

“Shhh. Listen.”

 

So Sansa did, she had the enhanced hearing of the the Starks who chose to become a skinchanger. At first she heard nothing, then she could hear it. The sound of metal clashing together.

 

“That’s just men practicing in the yard…?” It was more a question than a statement.

 

“That sounds different.” Harris said, sagely. “Those blades have edges.” He removed an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. “We make for the Tower of the Hand.” He said. “Be quick, be quiet, stay low and stay behind me.”

 

Sansa did as she was told, though her mind was whirling with questions, questions she kept to herself as Harris likely knew as much as she did. They got to a corner in the corridor, Harris carefully looked around, before judging it was safe. They were within arms reach of the door when it opened, three men in golden armour walked through, with blood on their golden blades.

 

“There she is.” One of them said. “Give her here, and we might not-.”

 

Between one heartbeat and the next, Harris shot an arrow through the first man’s skull.

 

The next man yelled, lunging forward, swinging his sword down at Harris. He caught the hilt with his bow, in an instant, he nocked another arrow, lifted his bow and sent the arrow flying through the second man’s throat, into the chest of the third.

 

Both men hit the floor at the same time.

 

“Gods…” Sansa whispered, stunned. She’d seen Harris weeping when he read the great love story of Jeyne Fair-oak and Brandon ‘the Beloved’ Stark, yet he had just killed three men in almost as many moments, right in front of her.

 

“Princess, now is not the time freeze.” Harris said, picking a bow and quiver full of arrows one of them had been carrying, handing both to her.

 

“You know how to use this.” He wasn’t asking.

 

“But i’ve never…” Killed anyone.

 

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I don’t think the Lannisters care.”

 

Sansa took the quiver with the belt, tying it around her dress. She realised she was getting blood all over her nice, new clothes. Then she took the bow, it was old and brown, nothing like her weirwood bow. That was likely in the hold of their ship, far from reach.

 

They both had arrows at the ready when they heard running through the slightly open door. Words could not describe how glad she was to see that the footsteps belonged to her uncle Beric. She crashed into his arms like she was ten years old again.

 

“What’s happening? Where’s father? Arya?” She asked.

 

“The Lannisters are taking the throne.” He said. “Your father sent me and Arthur to get you and your sister, and take you to the ship.”

 

“What about father?”

 

“He’ll be waiting for us...” He said, looking at Harris. “Come, we must hurry.”

 

It was chaos when Sansa walked into the yard. She saw Yennefer shooting lightning at what had been Lannister mages, nursing an wound on her side. Harper and Hagman were both stomping on a King’s Guard’s broken body as it lay on the cobbles beside Yennefer. There was a shield wall of Ice Guard holding off what looked like City Watchmen in one of the many entrances to the yard, but Sansa could not see them properly.

 

“We’ve got one!” Beric shouted, as they ran into the yard. “Were’s the little one?”

 

“She’s not here yet!” Harper shouted, now aiming his bow at Lannister men on the walls of the gate, loosing his arrow.

 

“And we’ll hold the yard until she is.” Yennefer said, leaning on one of the carts, looking pale. “Sansa, get in the cart.” She ordered. “We’ll take you and Arya straight to the ship.”

 

“You’re hurt.” Was all Sansa could manage as she rushed over to Yennefer, Beric and Harris joining the fighting.

 

“I’ll manage.”

 

“Sansa!” Sansa turned when she heard her little sister scream her name. Her heart leapt for joy when her scruffy sister came running into her arms, Arya’s dancing master and Cooper were quick behind her.

 

“Arya!” She said.

 

“We have them, lets go!” Yennefer yelled, the Chosen Men and Ice Guard began to retreat to the carts.

 

“Snowflake’s still in his cage, we can’t leave him.” Arya said, as she got on the cart.

 

“We already let the bird out, it flew away.” Yennefer informed her. “Your father told us to look after you, so that’s what we’e going to do.”

 

They all heard a loud crash when three armoured bull-trolls broke into the yard, tackling Beric into a big stone wall. They heard a loud crunch and Beric cried out.

 

“Beric!” Sansa shouted, as men rushed to help him against the beasts.

 

Beric killed one, Arthur another, the Ice Guard getting the last. The impact had left Beric’s right shoulder broken.

 

“Can you fight?” Arthur asked, helping Beric to his unsteady feet, the troll guts sliding off him.

 

“Any Witcher worth his salt can fight with both hands.” Beric grunted in pain.

 

A window from a few floors up broke as a City Watchman was pushed out of it, with Dorrk yelling like a madman as he rode the man to the ground, landing on him and smashing his metal helm in with his forge hammer.

 

“Duvvelsheyss!” The dwarf swore in the Old Tongue as he kicked the dead man in the chest.

 

“Dorrk!” Yennefer shouted. “Get your hairy arse into one of the carts before we leave you behind!” He did so, as quickly as a dwarf could manage.

 

“Don’t leave us!” They all heard a scared voice shouting from one of the doorways, before Jeyne Poole staggered through, her father leaning on her shoulder as he bled from a wound.

 

“Jeyne!” Sansa shouted. “Help her.”

 

Two of the Ice Guard ran over and picked up Vayon Poole, rushing him onto a cart, with Jeyne coming quick after him.

 

“You’ll be fine, Vayon.” Hagman said, checking over her father’s steward. “It’s not that deep.”

 

They were all in the carts now, save for some of the Ice Guard. There were ten too many of them…

 

“There’s not enough room.” A lieutenant said, grimly, before turning to his men. “We will cover their retreat.” Was all he said to them.

 

“Gods be with you, brother...” Harper said, before he took of the reins on one cart, Hagman taking the other, both urging them on. Sansa was looking back at her father’s men as they sped away.

 

“They’re going to die…” Arya said beside her. She was right. All Sansa could do was take her little sister in her arms and hold her.

 

“Shield wall!” The lieutenant shouted as men glad in gold armour poured into the yard. She didn’t even know his name. He was dying for her, and she didn’t even know his name. Their carts rounded a corner and Sansa could see the gates no more.

 

They rode hard and fast through the empty, cobbled streets of King’s Landing. The City Watch must have cleared the streets so they would be easy to find. Before long, riders with spears and swords came after them.

 

The Chosen men loosed all the arrows they had, Sansa lost count of how many men they felled, but then they ran out of arrows. Beric’s broken shoulder was probably worse than it seemed as he was slumped down in the cart. Yennefer was looking paler and paler by the minute. Sansa was beginning to lose hope, when her uncle Arthur gave her a sad smile, then leapt from the back of his cart, swinging Dawn in a wide arc, cutting one horse and his rider in two, then pivoting on his heel to strike down another.

 

“Arthur!” She shouted as they raced away from him.

 

“We have to go back!” Arya raised her voice.

 

“He’s doing this so we can escape. We’re not going back…” Yennefer panted, her wound and the excessive use of magic had clearly drained her.

 

Sansa looked back to Arthur as he fought. There was a moment where her uncle Arthur single-handedly held back the horde of men that was following them. Where he looked untouchable, unkillable. All men fell before him, he gave up not an inch of ground.

 

He was half a god, shining bright with the light of the heavens, Dawn blazing like the rising sun in his hand. Sansa had to look away, covering her eyes from the blinding light, before they turned another corner and her uncle was gone too.

 

They were getting closer to the harbour, to their ship. Where they had more men. Then they rounded a corner and were met with a wall of golden shields and spears down the street. Lannister men had blocked the way. Their two carts came to a sudden halt.

 

“There’s no way through.” Harper said.

 

“We can’t go back.” Harris rose up, taking his ice sword in hand.

 

“There another way?” Hagman asked.

 

“I can blast a hole.” Yennefer panted, getting to her feet on the cart, her dark hair slightly matted with sweat, before her legs gave out and she fell to the floor of the cart.

 

Before they could say more, they heard a loud eagle’s cry. A white Great-Eagle dived down from the sky towards the Lannister men.

 

“Snowflake!” Sansa shouted, she knew her father’s bird anywhere.

 

“One eagle isn’t going to break their line.” Harper grimaced as he urged the horses forward. “But this could be the best chance we have.”

 

Then Sansa heard it.

 

“Stop!” She ordered. Both carts stopped, Harper looked back at her in confusion. “Listen.”

 

Something big was approaching them. Something very big. Sansa only knew of one thing that big in King’s Landing. The Lannister men seemed to hear it too.

 

Before long, the house next to them exploded as her father’s dragon burst through it, stumbling into the houses on the other side of the street, crushing the Lannister men beneath her weight. Sunbeam came just after her mother, chomping up what men were left.

 

“That bird must have broken them out!” Harper laughed, before urging the horses forward again.

 

Neither of the dragons were strong enough to fly, so they stumbled and ran after the carts, crashing through buildings and people in their path. Both the dragons roared triumphantly as they crushed their foes. Sansa wished Sunbeam was well enough to fly, then she would have been able to take Arya and herself to safety.

 

Eventually, they got to the edge of the city near the harbour. The carts turned down a slope where they could see all the ships, with banners flapping in the wind. Snowsong and Sunbeam launched themselves off the edge of the slope, gliding into the ships flying Lannister banners, attacking them with all their might.

 

They’re making sure we can’t be followed. Sansa realised.

 

When their ship was in sight, Sansa gasped. Perkins, Isiah and Triss were fighting alongside Ice Guard and Winter Wolves against Gold Legionnaires on the docks as they were trying to take the ship.

 

“Get off here.” Harper said. “I’ve got a plan.”

 

They all dismounted the carts except Harper and Hagman, who charged them at full speed into the backs of the Lannister men.

 

With a charge in the rear, Snowflake attacking from above and a push from the front, the Gold Legion were quickly dealt with. They made haste towards the ship, Sansa felt she could finally breath again, her father would be there to hold them. They were rushing onto the deck when she heard what Triss asked Harper. “Where’re Ned and Arthur?” The world froze.

 

“What does she mean?” “Where’s father?” Sansa and her sister asked together.

 

“He’s not coming.” Was all Harper said as he pushed them onto the ship.

 

“What!?!” “No!” They both shouted.

 

“We can’t just leave him!” Sansa shrieked.

 

“He told us to get you safe.” Was all Harper said.

 

Arya made a dash to get back onto the docks, her dancing master caught her.

 

“Syrio let me go!” She pleaded. “Please!” Sansa remembered Arya was not even four and ten yet. “Father!” She screamed, sobbing.

 

“He’s extremely valuable,” Harper tried to reassure her. “They’ll take him prisoner… He knew that when he told us to go protect you.”

 

“Let’s get under way.” Triss said solemnly, turning to tend to Yennefer’s wound, leaving Sansa standing on the deck as people busied themselves around her.

 

The ship pulled away from the dock and out into the harbour. Snowsong and Sunbeam had sunk almost every other ship there, whether they were Lannister ships or not.

 

Both dragons threw themselves into the sea, swimming after their ship. Sunbeam stuck her head out of the water and rested her head on one side of the ship, Snowsong on the other. Sansa was numb, she was stroking her dragon’s jaw, pretending they were all back in Winterfell together when a deafening screech filled the air.

 

She looked up in horror and saw Joffrey was riding his dragon straight towards them. People were shouting and running around on the ship. Sansa wondered why. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run to.

 

Sunbeam and Snowsong both groaned as they tried to find the strength to fight on, failing. Sansa knew how they felt.

 

Before Joffrey could get any closer to them, Snowflake dive-bombed the dragon from above. The white Great-Eagle was a fearsome beast, but the dragon was nearly four times bigger. Sansa knew Joffrey had told her it’s name, once. She either wasn’t listening then, or didn’t care enough to commit it to memory.

 

All on the ship watched and prayed. Prayed to every god they knew that the eagle could save them.

 

“You should get below deck, Princess.” Perkins put a hand on her shoulder.

 

“No.” Harper said, sadly. “If he burns the ship, we’ll be needing to jump off.”

 

The dragon was much bigger, yet Snowflake was much more nimble, dancing around the dragon’s snapping jaws and gouts of flame. The eagle would fly away from the dragon until Joffrey turned back to the ship, then Snowflake would attack from above with his gripping talons. Always going for the back of the neck, either to get Joffrey, or get a good enough grip on the young dragon to break it’s neck.

 

“Hagman, can you hit it from here?” She heard Triss ask.

 

“No.” Was the answer. Even then, what good was one arrow against a dragon?

 

Snowflake was nimbly dancing around Joffrey’s dragon again, until he wasn’t.

 

Sansa barely felt the tears running down her face as she watched the dragon’s jaws clamp down on Snowflake’s white wing, then start to shake the bird violently. She heard all breath leave the ship in one long sigh as a cloud of bloodstained feathers exploded from the once faithful companion to her father.

 

“Look away, child.” Hagman told her.

 

But Sansa did not. She could not bring herself to cry out when Snowflake’s wing was torn off, nor when his body hit the harbour waters. She was numb. The dragon roared in victory, before turning back to the ship.

 

“If you ever wanted to prove what a marksman you are, now would be the time.” Harper said, handing Hagman an arrow. He nocked it as Sansa watched the dragon flying closer, it’s jaws opening, showing the furnace that was it’s gullet.

 

Hagman stilled, his mouth uttering a silent prayer.

 

The dragon was so close, Sansa could make out the features of Joffrey’s laughing face. Hagman closed his eyes, let out all his breath, then released his arrow. It sailed through the air, swift and true.

 

Sansa closed her eyes, accepting that Joffrey would burn them all. Yet the fire did not come, only the loud screech of a dragon in pain and a great roaring cheer from the ship.

 

Sansa open her eyes to see that Hagman had managed to hit Joffrey’s dragon in the eye, it was shaking it’s head from side to side in anguish. Joffrey was hanging on for dear life as the dragon turned and flew back to the city.

 

She turned to see people surrounding and congratulating a grumpy looking Hagman.

 

“I was aiming for the little shit riding the dragon.” He grumbled.

 

Sansa began to walk below deck, to her sister and to a bed.

Notes:

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Chapter 22: Chapter 17

 

Thunder ominously rumbled from thick black clouds that loomed over the city as Robb rode steadily to an abandoned tavern at the top of Cregan’s Hill. The people in the street gave him a wide birth, eyeing Grey Wind wearily. There were more than a hundred things on Robb’s mind, such was the life of the Stark of Starks.

 

“Looks like it’ll rain soon.” Elowyn said from under her hood as she rode beside him. The Mistwalkers had been a new edition to Winterfell after his mother’s attack. His great aunt Larra had brought more than three dozen of them up from the Neck, in order to personally guard the members of house Stark. It was some comfort to Robb that he had an army of assassins guarding his family.

 

Casting his eyes upward, Robb answered his sworn shield. “We’ll be there before the worst of it comes down.”

 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to them?”

 

“Somewhat…”

 

Robb was heading to meet with the dozen or so captains of the various criminal gangs that operated in the Winter City. These captains would pay tribute to house Stark from their businesses and would generally keep their practices on the tamer side, not doing anything that would disrupt the city too greatly.

 

That was the plan.

 

Before the last moon turned, the captain of the gang that based itself on Cregan’s Hill was found dead. It was a spark that lit the flame war right on the city streets. All the other gangs were fighting over the right to control Cregan’s Hill. Or more specifically, it’s docks, where ships from the dwarven mines in the northern mountains would offload their cargo of gems and precious metals.

 

Fighting on the streets of the Winter City would not do, especially not so close to one of the major trade routes into the city. Not to mention the number of lives the fighting had already claimed. It had come to a point where Robb had needed to step in and deal with the matter himself. He sent messages to each of the captains and called a holy truce, invoking the Old Goddess, Boann. It was under her watchful eye that Robb would have to meet with these… unsavoury men.

 

His father had dealt with them a number of times, he had always come back home in a worse mood than he left with. Thoughts of his father set a deep anger rising in him, one clearly felt by Grey Wind, who bared his teeth in a low growl.

 

He’s still alive. Robb told himself. Perhaps not whole, but still alive. He has the Chosen Men with him. And Arthur. And Beric… They’ll protect him and the girls.

 

Robb had raged when the news arrived of Jaime Lannister’s attack on his father, Jon had stormed off to mount Moonhowler before their mother had the guards bar Winterfell’s gates. It had taken all of Robb’s willpower not to ride south on Gnasher to deal out death and destruction on every Lannister he could find.

 

If the word of the Lannister raids in the Riverlands was to be believed, Robb might have to march south anyway, with the armies of the North at his back.

 

Banishing those thoughts from his head, Robb turned a corner and saw their destination. It was tavern four stories tall, with windows that were all black from years of smoking, a large weirwood tree stood in the centre of the paved square in front of it. Robb had been told that the building had been a smokehouse before being turned into a tavern, the smell of smoked kippers filled his nose was he crossed it’s threshold.

 

The captains were sitting on benches, all gathered around a table in front of a stage where the weirwood carved statue of Boann stood, with two Greenmen standing behind it. A pile of daggers and other blades lay on a table at the other end of the tavern hall. A symbol of their peaceful negotiation.

 

Their eyes were on Robb as he walked to the stage where the statue of Boann stood. Robb unbuckled his belt and lay his sheathed sword on the table next to the statue, Elowyn removed her sword and placed it next to his without a word, as Grey Wind padded around the hall.

 

Robb turned to the captains with what he hoped was a match for his father’s ‘Lord’s Face’. Each of the men were different, yet they were all the same. There were men, dwarves and children of the forest. Some were older than Robb’s father, others looked only a few years older than himself. Some were corpulent and greasy, some were thin and well groomed. Some draped themselves in fine clothes and expensive jewellery, while others wore more simple garb.

 

Yet they all looked at Robb with the same beady little eyes, watching, judging, guessing how much they could use him for their own ends.

 

You must be forceful with them. His mother had told him. Make no mistake, all of those men are killers. They will see your age as weakness. Your father is not here, so they will push for more than what he would give them. These men are a cowardly and superstitious lot. If you are to rule one day, they must respect you, or fear you…

 

“Your contest for control of Cregan’s Hill is finished. All violence will cease.” Robb said loudly and clearly.

 

“You can say what you like.” A dark haired man in fine clothes and finer jewels said, in a tone Robb would have charitably described as insolence. “It doesn’t make it so.”

 

Robb chose to ignore him and continue on. “None of you have been able to get control of the Hill, and it seems unlikely that is going to change. So as Master of the Winter City, I claim the captaincy of the Cregan’s Hill gang as property of House Stark. I will appoint a new captain and you will deal with them.”

 

“You can’t do that.” One of the older men in plainer clothes said.

 

“Says who?” Robb shot back, as Grey Wind lowered his head and growled, making the men shift uncomfortably away from the wolf.

 

“We all know of you, Robb Stark. You are young an unfamiliar with our ways.” The dark haired man in fine clothes said. “In your father’s absence, you are the Stark of Starks and we are duly respectful of that fact, you would do well to return that respect.”

 

Robb worked hard to crush the anger within him at the insult and invocation of his father.

 

“Well I can’t do that,” He snarked. “but I can give you coin instead.” Their reactions were plain to see, now there was money in it, they were interested. “Once order is restored, all of you will receive a payment with each moon to the value of fifty gold dragons directly from house Stark under my captain’s supervision. In return, I expect you to limit yourself to your… traditional liberties and malpractices. Nothing that will disrupt trade and the general order.” There was a pause as the men looked to each other, considering what they had been offered. “I require your acknowledgment and acceptance of these terms.”

 

“Fifty gold dragons…” A child of the forest with a long moustache murmured as he looked to the other captains. “It’s not bad… What form will it take? Gold? Gems? Grain?”

 

“Whichever you would like.” Robb answered, dismissively.

 

“Are you women?” The Older man from earlier admonished the other captains. “One bark from this green pup and you bow your neck.”

 

“What is your name?” Robb asked the older man.

 

“Romar, Captain of the Ratway. Tell us, why should respectable men such as ourselves listen to a boy like you?”

 

“Romar, Captain of the Ratway…” Robb committed the name to memory. “You ask a fair question. Those who will not acquiesce to my demands will become my enemies.”

 

“And so…?”

 

They must fear me.

 

“They will die much sooner than they expect…”

 

At that, a number of the captains sprang to their feet, some even making for their blades on the table. Grey Wind stood between them and it, snarling with malicious intent. One of them took a step in Robb’s direction. Before the man could blink, Elowyn was between them. Her hand flexed, and her hidden blade sprang out from under her sleeve, pressing it’s Uru tip just under the man’s chin.

 

“Uh uh uhhh…” She warned, pressing it forward, making the man stumble back.

 

The dark haired man rose to his feet and raised his hands. “Steady on! Remember Boann.” He looked to the other captains. “No blood.”

 

Everyone put their blades down and went back to their seats.

 

Robb had a thought. They’re a cowardly and superstitious lot…

 

“Boann…” Robb’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he turned and picked up the statue behind him. The Greenmen tried to stop him, but he pushed them aside.

 

Robb stood on the stage, with the statue in his hands, the captains all looking at him. With both hands, he slammed the statue onto his knee, splintering the statue into pieces. There was a stunned silence in the tavern, Robb could hear the strong winds and heavy rain battering at the shutters from the storm outside.

 

“I am a son of FENRIC!” Robb shouted at the stunned group of men. “I FUCK Boann in her ARSE!”

 

Just at that moment the shutters on one of the windows flew open, thunder and lightning raging outside. Whether it was blind luck or divine providence, it certainly made for a dramatic scene. Some of the men rose from their seats in fear, inching closer to the door.

 

Robb threw the splintered wood to the ground and drew his sword from it’s sheath, fixing the captains with a hard gaze.

 

“The truce is raised.” He declared, staring the men down. There was one heartbeat, then another, as the men nervously looked around at each other. Robb could see the fear in their eyes, and he knew he had them. “Romar of the Ratway…” He picked out the older man again. “Do you accept my terms?” All the old man could manage was a nod. “You will all swear before a heart tree.” Robb said as he sheathed his sword. “Your oaths will be bound in blood.”

 

The group left the tavern and walked out into the square, the rain was falling in heavy sheets, the wind making the tree’s branches flap and groan under the strain. One by one, all the captains swore to abide by Robb’s terms before the tree, sealing their contract.

 

“I will choose my captain soon enough.” Robb raised his voice over the wind and rain as he mounted Grey Wind. “Until then, remember this: You exist because House Stark allows it.” he reminded the captains. “You will end, if we command it.” Robb and Elowyn rode away, towards Winterfell.

 

With grim determination, he refused to look back at the captains. “Have I just make a mistake?” Robb asked the Mistwalker once they were long out of earshot.

 

“Well, if they weren’t praying for your father’s swift return before, they certainly are now.” She laughed.

 

The wind and the rain were still coming down hard when they made it to Winterfell’s main courtyard, they could barely see five feet in front of them. The castle’s warmth was a welcome relief from the cold outside. As Robb would be perfectly safe in the main keep, Elowyn went to stable her mount as Robb and Grey Wind wandered towards the main hall, looking for food.

 

The clacking of wooden swords drew Robb into the hall, he opened the doors and saw his aunt Lyanna and Jon sparring as Alyrianne, Bran, Arthur, Rickon and Alaric all watched, sitting on one of the benches in the hall. Jon and Lyanna had moved some of the long tables to give them a square to spar in.

 

Lyanna was laughing as she danced around Jon, striking high, then low. She had been trained as a Witcher under the tutelage of their great uncle Beric, according to him, she had great skill. It was clearly evident that he was right. Suddenly, she slipped her wooden sword right under Jon’s, pressing the sword point directly over his heart.

 

“Always remember children,” Lyanna chuckled. “Stick ‘em with the pointy end.” The younger siblings laughed and clapped their aunt, who bowed theatrically for them.

 

“There’s no shame in losing to Lyanna, Jon.” Robb consoled his twin as he walked over to them. “I’ve even seen uncle Arthur lose to her on occasion.” His siblings were certainly awed by that fact.

 

“One day, I want to beat uncle Arthur in a sword fight too.” Alyrianne piped up. “Then I can be the Sword of the Morning.”

 

“It doesn’t work like that.” Little Arthur turned to his sister. “Dawn’s like Foesmasher, only the worthy get to wield it.”

 

“Well who’s to say i’m not worthy?”

 

“You’ve never held it.”

 

“So?”

 

“It’s so unfair.” Bran rose to his feet, still a little unsteady as his legs had not fully healed. “You could wield Ice and Dawn together.” The eyes of the children of Robb’s Dayne mother all went wide as they realised that fact.

 

“Has anyone ever done that before?” Little Arthur turned to Robb, Jon and Lyanna. “Has anyone ever wielded uncle Arthur’s and father’s Greatswords together?”

 

For some reason, Lyanna burst out laughing. “It would certainly take someone of great skill and ability to handle both of those mighty weapons at the same time.” She giggled. “But enough about our family swords. I’m teaching you how to fight.”

 

Jon stepped forward, with many smaller wooden swords in his hands. “Pair off, and go through the sequence we showed you earlier,” he told them. “but slowly.” He emphasised.

 

The younger boys took up their positions and Lyanna paired with Alyrianne. Robb sat with his twin by one of the tables as they watched them practice.

 

“How fared you with the captains?” Jon asked, now that their younger siblings were distracted.

 

“They swore to follow my terms.” Robb informed him. “We’ll have to see if they keep to them.”

 

Jon hummed in agreement.

 

A sudden noise drew Robb’s attention to beneath the table. He swore when Jon’s newest familiar surprisingly got up from beneath the table.

 

“He likes to lie under the tables.” Jon informed him, chuckling.

 

“I’m surprised he can still fit under them.”

 

One of Jon’s wedding gifts from their father had been a Grandungr cub. It had been one of several dozen that their father had bought from Volantis in the hope of them being trained by the North’s wargs and integrated into their war beast collection.

 

They were massive creatures that could supposedly grow to the size of direwolves. They seemed to be half lion, half bull, with patches of hard black scales over parts of their fur. Legend said Grandungrs were originally created in Old Valyria, by their blood mages. They had outlived their creators and many now roamed wild in Essos.

 

They were powerful, strong and completely immune to fire. As many of the Valyrians were firebenders and they had a great many dragons, mounts that were immune to fire were incredibly valuable. As Jon was also a firebender, it seemed a good idea that he should have it. They certainly weren’t cheap. Their father had told them that he could have bought a fleet for the price of those cubs.

 

Jon had named his cub Toothless, ironic, as it had more teeth than Robb dared count. It was as black as a starless night, with burning blue eyes.

 

Once he was out from under the table, Toothless stood tall, stretched like Balerion did in the mornings, then wandered over to the fire burning in one of the hearths and curled up like a normal cat.

 

“It seems my cat is little different from Rhaenys’.” Jon chuckled.

 

“Lets hope somewhat less ill-tempered.”

 

“He seems amiable enough to me.” A voice came from behind them. The twins turned to see Talisa Maegyr standing behind them, draped in jewels and fine silks. She had come to Winterfell with her father from Volantis, having been sent by the city’s Triarchs to form a trade deal with the North. Talisa was a niece of Malaquo Maegyr, a Triarch from the Tiger faction of Volantis.

 

His uncle Benjen had needed to explain the political systems of Volantis to him multiple times before Robb felt he could understand them. The Tigers liked war and the Elephants liked trade. As the Elephants held two of the three Triarch seats, Volantis would focus on expanding their trade, hence the diplomatic mission to the North. They came with sweet words and many gifts, talking of the many resources that Volantis would like to trade with the North for, but Robb knew their true intention.

 

They want lower taxes for their traders through the Canal.

 

Robb stood and bowed. “It’s good to see you’re up, lady Talisa.”

 

“After last night, I’m surprised to see you standing.” Jon chuckled as he rose too.

 

“As am I…” Talisa blushed as she smiled at the twins. The first night Talisa arrived in Winterfell, Robb and Jon had given her the best fuck of her life, and the same again every night since. “It’s much too cold in the North for my tastes.” She sat with them by the fire.

 

“You would feel the cold less if you wore more.” Jon observed, his eyes roaming up and down her body. “Not that I think you should…”

 

“Volantis is much warmer than Winterfell.” Talisa smiled, arching her back, presenting herself to Jon and Robb’s gaze. “Anything thicker than this dress would be terrible in the heat. Why, sometimes it can get so hot, that we forgo clothes altogether.”

 

“I think i’m going to visit Volantis.” Robb chuckled.

 

Lyanna cocked her head to the side, having probably been listening to them as she taught the children. “Jon, I think it’s time we taught them how to disarm a foe.” With a disappointed huff, Jon got back onto his feet and picked up a wooden sword. “And Robb?” Lyanna continued. “You and lady Talisa can either join in or move on, you’re distracting your siblings.”

 

“As you wish auntie.” Robb stood, taking Talisa by the arm as they walked out of the hall, with Grey Wind padding behind them. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Robb said as they walked along a gallery towards the main keep, the heavy rain pattering against the glass of the windows. “Rhaenys found your small-clothes on the floor after you left, yesterday.”

 

“They were a gift.”

 

“Really?”

 

“You certainly earned them after your divine performance.”

 

“Well, they shall certainly be appreciated.” Robb chuckled. “Rhaenys tells me you’ve started teaching her how to play Cyvasse.”

 

“Yes…” A small blush crept up Talisa’s cheeks. “Suffice it to say that she isn’t half as proficient on the board as she is in bed.”

 

“Well… If I had to choose one or the other…” Robb greatly appreciated his wife’s skill in bed.

 

“Quite.” Talisa responded, as a low rumble of thunder echoed along the corridor. “Do you have many storms like this in the North?”

 

“Not that I can remember…” Robb answered, then recognised where Talisa was directing them. “We’re going towards my chambers…?”

 

“Yes.” Talisa looked up at him with a glint in her eye.

 

“Ah...”

 

The pair burst into Robb’s chambers, kissing and groping the whole way. After kicking the door closed, Robb ripped Talisa’s dress clean off her body.

 

“That was my best dress!” She shrieked, giggling as they made their way towards the bed.

 

“I’ll buy you another one.” Robb held her away from him for a second, so he could enjoy the sight of her body. Talisa was a beautiful slim woman, with firm, pert curves, dark hair and olive skin. “I’m going to fuck your arse.” Robb informed her, matter of factly. All she could do was smile and tremble in anticipation.

 

Robb picked Talisa up like she weighed nothing and dropped her onto the bed. She landed softly on the silk sheets. Taking control of her body, Robb moved her onto her hands and knees, before pushing her face down into the mattress. Her bouncy behind was completely exposed to him. Robb fell onto her from above, putting his whole weight down on her smaller frame. They were skin to skin, Talisa felt hot against him, especially as his cock was pressed into her round arse-cheeks.

 

“It’s time for your daily arse fucking.” Robb growled as he positioned himself accordingly, then thrust inside her quivering hole.

 

Talisa’s moans were muffled by the bedsheets as Robb ploughed her arse from behind. It wasn’t the first time she had been taken that way. Robb had claimed her anal virginity the first night she spent at Winterfell. Rhaenys and Elowyn had needed to muffle her cries with their massive tits. Since that night, Robb had demanded use of her arse every day. Talisa had happily complied.

 

“Fuuuuuuuuck! Gods!” Talisa moaned, thrashing helplessly beneath Robb’s thrusts. He owned her body completely, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

 

Robb pressed every inch of his cock into her arse, all the way in, stretching her like no other had before. He was rough and urgent with his fucking, taking her like a wolf as she screamed his name in a mixture of pain and euphoric pleasure.

 

“Maybe next time Jon and I take you together, we should both take your arse at the same time?” Robb laughed, smacking Talisa’s plump rear. “Would you like that?”

 

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” Was all she could respond with, but her quivers told Robb she wanted it. Ygritte had been the only other woman so far who was able to take Robb and Jon in one whole at the same time. Not even Rhaenys could manage it, in spite of how hard she tried.

 

Robb savagely thrust all twelve inches of his cock deep into Talisa’s arse, she began to claw at the bedsheets as her whole body trembled under him. With a piercing shriek, Talisa squirted her pleasure all over the bed. Her explosive climax didn’t deter Robb, as he kept up a brutal pace, pillaging her arse for all it’s worth.

 

Taking her dark tresses in his fist, Robb pulled her head up from where it had fallen. Her eyes were heavily lidded and unfocused, her mouth hung open, drooling as she panted. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look after I fuck you blind?”

 

Talisa only moaned weekly in response. With a wet plop, Robb withdrew himself from her gaping arse. Grabbing her ankle, he turned her onto her back, her plump breasts bounced as she flopped down. Her legs were on his shoulders when his throbbing cock teased the entrance to her cunt.

 

“Doesn’t it ever go soft?” She marvelled up at him.

 

“I’d have thought you’d have learned that by now.”

 

“I should have come to Winterfell years ago-oh! Oh! Ooooohhh!” Talisa’s words became a long string of moans as Robb parted her cunt walls with his shaft, diving deep inside her. “You two really have ruined me for all men that don’t have Stark cocks.” She laughed.

 

Robb grinned. “As it should be.”

 

Robb took one of her hard nipples into his mouth, sucking and pinching it as he slammed his footlong into her womb. Again and again. With his hands, he held her arms above her head. Talisa’s breath quickened as her muscles tensed in pleasure. Her head thrashed from side to side as her wails echoed off the stone walls of Robb’s bedchamber.

 

“Qooo-qogralbar nyke! Qogralbar nyke… Kostilus Rōb, kostilus… Qogralbar nyke.” Talisa was so deep in the whirlpool of passion, she started speaking Valyrian. Robb laughed as she begged him to fuck her harder in her mother tongue.

 

That lead to her second and third climaxes as Robb ploughed her stupid. Her mouth hung wide open, panting and screaming madly as her body betrayed her. Robb brutally railed her as he fucked her into the bed. Her legs were flopping around as she squirmed, her arms wrapped tightly around his back.

 

“Take my seed, Volanteen whore!” Robb shouted as he was nearing his end.

 

He slammed every inch of his cock deep into her. He held it there as rope after rope of his seed surged within her cunt. After several minutes, Robb flopped down onto the bed beside her, panting and sweaty.

 

After his liaison with Talisa, Robb found himself looking for his wife, leaving Talisa passed out on his bed. He found Rhaenys in the lower levels of Winterfell, where the Starks of old had piped the hot spring’s water into private circular pools.

 

As Robb walked into the hall, he saw Rhaenys was sitting in the pool with his sister Alysanne, Dacey Mormont, Smalljon Umber and Eddard Dhalark, called Eddy. They all sat around the edge in a circle. Grey Wind padded over to Mooney and Steelcoat, sniffing the other direwolves as they sat off to the side. Rhaenys beamed when she saw him.

 

“Join us, darling!” She called. “We got soaked out in the yard when it began to rain, so we decided to warm up.”

 

Alysanne made a vomiting sound as she covered her eyes. “Don’t ever call him ‘Darling’ in my presence again.”

 

“I shall call my husband what I wish.” Rhaenys giggled. Robb was beginning to divest himself of his clothes when another figure rose from beneath the surface of the water. She was beautiful and full figured. From the black hair and deep blue skin, Robb recognised her as Ariel, daughter of Lord Atlan, a Child of the Sea who had stayed in Winterfell after the recent weddings.

 

“Is the Prince Stark going to grace us with his presence?” Ariel stood in the centre of the pool completely nude, looking up at him with her pitch black eyes. Robb found their was something eerily beautiful about the Children of the Sea’s eyes. Like two black voids a man could drown in.

 

“I’m always happy to spend time with the people I rule over.” Robb smiled as he removed his breeches, freeing his cock to her gaze before walking into the pool.

 

“And the women of the North are very grateful to you.” Dacey bit her lower lip as she straightened up, raising her nipples above the water surface. Alysanne made vomiting noises again.

 

“And don’t compliment my brother’s cock either!” The others laughed at her displeasure.

 

“I didn’t say anything about how amazing Robb’s cock is…”

 

More fake vomiting sounds. “You were thinking it!”

 

“Yes I was…” Dacey laughed even harder.

 

Robb stood in from of Alysanne, who was sitting next to Rhaenys, leaning into her. “You’re in my seat, sis.” Robb put his hands on his hips.

 

Alysanne met his gaze with steely eyed defiance. “I was here first.”

 

“I married her.”

 

“You two are like a pair of pups fighting over your favourite toy.” Rhaenys giggled.

 

Eventually, Alysanne relented, rolling here eyes as she moved from Rhaenys. Robb replaced her quickly, submerging his lower half in the warm water as he sat next to his wife. He placed a hand on the small bump of her stomach, where their child was growing.

 

Alysanne muscled in between Rhaenys and Dacey, planting herself on Rhaenys’s left. “Now we both get her.” She said as she leaned into Rhaenys, giggling.

 

“Sandwiched between two Starks.” Rhaenys looked from side to side as she put her arms around Robb and Alysanne. “I can think of worse states to be in.”

 

“You should show Robb the waterbending move you showed us earlier.” Eddy turned to Rhaenys.

 

“Just remember to duck this time, Eddy.” Dacey laughed.

 

Rhaenys joined Dacey in laughing, before splashing her. “Oh fuck off. That only happened once.”

 

“I’d like to see how you’ve improved.” Robb stroked her thigh. Since their wedding, Rhaenys had been practicing with the spear father had given her, and the waterbending scroll. Many times Robb had found her standing in a bathtub, moving her arms back and forth, channeling the water.

 

Rhaenys stood in the centre of the pool, Robb’s eyes roamed over her spectacular curves easily. She had always been very well endowed, her pregnancy had enhanced her body to new heights. Her breasts and behind were even more abundant, her skin was almost glowing.

 

Dacey gave a low whistle, sitting between Eddard and Smalljon as they watched Rhaenys. She held them all spellbound as she took up her waterbending pose. Her arms swayed back and forth over the water, making it ripple and flow, mirroring her movements.

 

“I love watching you waterbend…” Smalljon said, Robb had to agree with him. Discounting the beauty of the magic in front of them, Rhaenys’ movements were making her monumental breasts bounce back and forth pleasantly, something Robb doubted anyone wouldn’t be able to enjoy.

 

“Gods, your breasts are divine…” Alysanne murmured as she looked up and down her body.

 

“Princess Catelyn’s are better.” Dacey countered, causing both Robb and Alysanne to shoot her an irritated look as Rhaenys laughed and let the wall of water fall back into the pool.

 

“I agree.” Eddy added, much to Robb’s annoyance. “I’ll remember those swimming lessons she gave us all until I am old and grey.” Smalljon and Ariel hummed in agreement, before Alysanne splashed them, making them laugh.

 

“Careful now,” Robb warned, pointing a finger at them. “I’ll hear no words of my mother…”

 

“Not two days ago, I caught you fucking both my sisters in MY bed!” Eddy exclaimed. “I’m not their keeper, if they wish to bed you, then I can’t stop them. By why does it have to happen in MY bed?”

 

“…It was the closest one…” Robb lied. In actuality it was their idea. They liked the danger of almost getting caught fucking in a place they shouldn’t have been. Unfortunately, Eddy had walked in on them. The sisters had been mortified, once they had regained composure after Robb had fucked them into the heavens. “Either way, none of you shall speak a word of my mother.” Robb ordered.

 

“I’m so very sorry, my Prince…” Dacey said, innocently. She began to crawl towards him in the pool, until she was kneeling right in front of him. “Is there anything I can do to earn your forgiveness?” She asked, before placing her hand on his cock. She angled the head out of the water and started to kiss it tenderly.

 

“That’s a fair way.” Robb hummed as Dacey began to suck his cock, ignoring Alysanne’s fake vomiting sounds.

 

“Seems a little unfair that they can earn forgiveness that way.” Smalljon said enviously, as he watched Dacey’s arse.

 

“I can happily accept it.” Rhaenys giggled, stroking Robb’s chest as she sat next to him.

 

“I see no issue.” Ariel was also watching as she bit her bottom lip.

 

“Neither do I…” Eddy smiled, Robb remembered that the Dhalark son liked both men and women in equal measure.

 

“Don’t make me start talking about father.” Alysanne threatened, as she sat, fuming. They all went quiet then. Robb moved Dacey off his cock, he didn’t feel like it anymore.

 

Smalljon was the first to talk. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that our houses will happily follow what ever you decide to do, Robb.” The truth was Robb didn’t rightly know what he should do. But he could not let the others know that.

 

“I thank you for your support.” He answered. “What are your opinions on the matter?” Robb knew what Alysanne and Rhaenys thought, so he directed to question at the others.

 

“Well…” Smalljon began. “Two of your mothers took the Imp captive, they wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t a wrong’n. Now the Lannisters attack your father? I say lets go south and smash the fuckers.”

 

“Perhaps that is easier said than done.” Robb answered his friend. “The consequences could be dire for breaking the king’s peace.”

 

“We should defend our allies.” Dacey piped up. “Excuse me…” She bowed her head a little. “They say Lannister men raid the Riverlands: Your mother’s home, it’s only right that we defend it.”

 

“Dacey’s right.” Samlljon voiced his agreement.

 

“We should be careful.” Eddy cut in. “If the Lannisters wanted to provoke us into war, would this not be how they would do it?” He asked. “If we attacked them, they might say that we started the war and call for the king to march against us.”

 

“Robb’s father is the Hand!” Smalljon asserted. “He’d tell the king that the Lannisters are the true villains.”

 

“Prince Stark was attacked on the streets of King’s Landing by Lannister men and the king went hunting.” Eddy countered. “I fear he may not be the friend that the Stark of Starks remembers.”

 

It was then where Ariel began to speak, entering the conversation. “In Notlantis, we have a saying: You can either swim along with the currents, or be crushed by them.” She looked directly at Robb with her fathomless, black eyes. “We may not want war, but I feel it is coming whether you wish it or not. All you can decide is if you want to be prepared.”

 

Robb stroked his chin thoughtfully as he pondered their words. “You’ve given me much to think about.” He thanked them. “Now I fear I must away.” Robb stood.

 

“I’ll join you.” Rhaenys stood too and they both stepped out of the pool.

 

Rhaenys had them all enraptured again as she dried herself by engulfing her body in fire. She looked half a goddess, standing there naked, wreathed in flame. In an instant, she was as dry as a bone. Robb drying himself was a much less majestic sight. Soon enough they were both dry and clothed again as they bid their farewells and walked out of the hall arm in arm, with their wolves following them.

 

“I’ve been thinking of a name for the babe.” Rhaenys said as she took his hand, they were walking together through one of Winterfell’s many corridors.

 

“Oh?” Robb turned to his wife.

 

“If it’s a boy…” She stopped. “I want to call him Aegon…”

 

Oh…

 

Rhaenys didn’t talk much about her younger brother. Robb had never wanted to press her, but he had always stood with her in Winterfell’s graveyard where Aegon had been buried. She had been so young when he was murdered.

 

Rhaenys had once admitted to him during a long and dark night as they held each other in bed, that she couldn’t actually remember her little brother, but she did remember missing him.

 

Robb didn’t know that pain, and he prayed he never would. He couldn’t imagine a world without Jon in it, or any of his other siblings.

 

Robb suddenly became all to aware that he hadn’t said anything. “Aegon Stark? It’s perfect. I’d love to name our babe Aegon.”

 

Rhaenys looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Truly?”

 

“Yes.” Robb smiled, squeezing her hand. “He would be the second Aegon Stark.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“One of Jonnel Stark and Daena Targaryen’s sons was the first Aegon Stark.” Robb informed her.

 

“Didn’t they have a dozen children?” Rhaenys look up inquisitively.

 

“I don’t think we need to have that many…” Robb smiled down at her.

 

“It’s somewhat strange…” Rhaenys gave a small laugh. “I knew i’d be having your children one day… To be honest, I didn’t expect it quite so soon.”

 

“Are you having doubts?” Truth be told, Robb had not expected to be a father so soon either. Which, looking back on it, had been a foolish belief to hold. Rhaenys had him at least twice a day, every day since they had first laid together. Memories of those first few weeks brought a smirk to his face. In the first seven days of their relationship, Robb didn’t remember either of them leaving his bedchambers once.

 

“I’m not having any doubts at all…” Rhaenys giggled. “That’s what’s surprising me.” She paused, and leaned against one of the windows that lined the wall, looking out at the pouring rain. “It’s strange. Mother had difficulty bearing children, it’s not a big leap to imagine that I will too… Yet I do not fear it.”

 

Robb placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

 

“Swear to me.” Rhaenys faced Robb again.

 

“I swear it, by the Old Gods and the New.” Robb vowed.

 

“…Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

 

“Once or twice…”

 

“The correct answer was ‘I love you too’.” Rhaenys laughed.

 

“I love you too…” Robb placed a hand on the bump of her belly. “Both of you.”

 

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Rhaenys was pressed against the stone wall as their heated embrace deepened. He wanted to surround her, keep her safe from the troubles of the world. If Robb was a lesser man, he might have confined her to their chambers, keeping her safe. But that would be unfair to her, so Robb had to let go of his fears and hope things would not go ill for them.

 

“We love you more.” She hummed after they pulled apart, nipping at Robb’s lower lip.

 

Robb brushed a lock of her dark hair from her beautiful face. “I find it best not to argue with my wife.”

 

“Good boy.” They began to kiss again, this time with more fervour. Robb ran his hands along her soft curves, feeling her body pressing against him. “Though we probably shouldn’t be fucking in the corridor again…” They both laughed. “Wouldn’t want your mother to walk in on us again.” Robb’s Dayne mother found them fucking like animals in a secluded corner of Winterfell. She had only laughed, saying that they should be glad neither Elia nor Catelyn had been the one to find them. “Speaking of your mother.” Rhaenys continued. “I shall be meeting with her and the stewards soon. She’s teaching me how to be the Lady of Winterfell.”

 

“Then I shall leave you in peace, I wanted to talk to Sabrina anyway.” With that, Robb left her, Grey Wind following closely behind.

 

Robb exited Winterfell’s main keep to the sound of rumbling thunder as lightning crackled through the sky. Gods, will this deluge never end? It was only a short journey to the Palace of Magic, the quarters of the Mages Guild and the academy where they taught new magic users for the North. Val was currently studying there, under the tutelage of Galadriel, the high mage.

 

The palace was less than half the size of Winterfell’s main keep, yet it was still massive. It’s ornate design would have looked very impressive, if Robb could see it properly through the rain. Robb entered the palace through the main gate, where the door mage kindly dried Robb in moments with a spell.

 

The corridors were packed with students going from one class to the next, Robb was reminded of the time he spent learning at the school when he was younger. Him, his siblings and the other sons and daughters of the North’s nobility all being taught together by the most learned mages and druids in the realm. The world had been simpler back then.

 

Eventually, Robb found his way to Sabrina’s offices, where he found Yennefer’s and Sabrina’s daughters, his little sisters, on the floor reading a big book of magic. Yennefer’s was Ciri, a girl of 8, the other was Rhea, who was only a year younger. Ciri looked the opposite of her mother, with white hair and green eyes. Rhea’s hair was almost exactly like Robb’s only a shade more blonde, with blue eyes.

 

“Robb!” They both exclaimed when they say him, with the excitement only little girls could muster.

 

“Hello girls.” Robb said warmly as they rushed towards him.

 

“We’ve been reading this!” Rhea held the book out for him to see.

 

“We’re learning how to move rocks without touching them!” Ciri added.

 

“Very interesting.” Robb chuckled, remembering when Yennefer had given him that same book to learn from. “Is your mother around?”

 

“I’m here Robb.” Sabrina answered when she walked through the door that lead to the connecting library. She was immaculate as most mages often were, wearing a beautiful gown to emphasised her substantial curves.

 

“Ah. Good.” Robb turned to talk to her. “I would have words with you.”

 

“We’ll be in the other room girls.” Sabrina told Robb’s sisters as they went back to their book.

 

He followed Sabrina through the small library into her main office. It was an octagonal room with four of the walls having windows of stained glass. A tapestry hung on another wall, showing a detailed map of the North, Robb was reminded of a similar one that hung in his father’s solar. A large weirwood desk sat in front of a fire that blazed in the hearth. Robb sat in one of the cushioned chairs as Sabrina poured him a glass of kanar.

 

“Have a drink,” she handed him the glass. “you seem agitated.”

 

“I still have dreams about having to come here for lessons.” Robb japed, accepting the glass and taking a drink, the vintage was a little sweeter than he was used to.

 

“Were they such a chore?” Sabrina smirked, sitting on the desk in front of him. Robb was reminded of how beautiful he and everyone else in their class had found her. “You quite enjoyed some of my lessons.”

 

“You could a strict teacher.”

 

“True. But you did learn.”

 

“That I did.”

 

Sabrina took another sip from her glass then set it on the desk. “You want my advice.” She wasn’t asking.

 

“Am I that easy to read?”

 

“Your father makes the exact same face.” She answered. That filled Robb with a sense of pride.

 

“The Lannisters.” He began. “It seems all roads ahead of us lead to a conflict with them. What do you think I should do?”

 

Sabrina pondered her answer for a few moments. She rose from the desk and went to sit in her chair. “I agree I fight seems inevitable. As to your question, I would suggest you take stock of the many resources you have at your disposal.”

 

“I can call sixty thousand men to-“

 

“You’re thinking as a battle commander.” Sabrina interrupted him.

 

“Is that wrong?” Robb could not help but feel he was fifteen years old again, being taught by the beautiful, bit stern witch.

 

“No… But you’re not only a commander, you are a prince of a whole kingdom. You have weapons other than swords at your disposal.”

 

“You mean our dragons?” The Starks did have a great many dragons to call upon, even if most of them were without a rider.

 

“Certainly a valuable resource to consider, but you’re still thinking militarily…” Sabrina said, measuredly. “Allow me to reframe my point.” She stood and walked around the room, before turning back to Robb and leaning on the wall to the left of the tapestry map. “What to the Lannisters value above all else?”

 

Robb began to think. He went over the time he spent with Myrcella, what he had observed of the Lannisters during their visit, what his father had told him of them, what they had done to his mother. Finally he came to his answer. “Their pride.”

 

“Correct.” Sabrina smiled and gave him a nod, making Robb feel proud of himself. “And what are they most proud of?”

 

An easy question. “Their vast amounts of gold.”

 

“If you wish to hurt a Lannister, wound their pride. How? Take their gold.”

 

Robb pondered Sabrina’s meaning. Taking gold was easier said than done. Surely she did not intend for them to break into Casterly Rock and steal the Lannister gold from under Tywin’s nose. His eyes fell on Sabrina again.

 

There’s a reason she stood by the map… Many resources…

 

“The Great Canal!”

 

“Exactly!” Sabrina applauded. “Do you have any idea just how much wealth is earned from the Canal in a year?”

 

“No.”

 

“Neither do I. But Tywin Lannister does, and it’s loss would hurt him more than any defeat on the field. When you are the Stark of Starks, you should be aware that military might is not the only option you have. Trade can be an incredibly powerful weapon against our foes. War is not good for business.”

 

Robb stood up and walked over to the map, tracing his finger along the canal. “We could hold Westerlander ships indefinitely at White Harbour on the western side and at Rypeak on the eastern.” Then another idea came. “Or even confiscate their cargo and sell it ourselves. Lords Ryder and Manderly might object to a loss of trade, but they’d both welcome the gold they’d make from selling the cargo themselves.”

 

Sabrina was clearly impressed by his ideas, she added her own. “They could even be instructed to sell the cargo to ships from the Reach. It would strain the relationship between the Tyrells and the Lannisters.”

 

An idea that certainly deserved more attention, even if the thought of manipulating two kingdoms against each other didn’t sit to well with him.

 

“Tywin Lannister would be less likely to commit to a war to the east if he feels he is weak to the south.”

 

“Just so.” Sabrina said. “However, there is something you need to consider…”

 

Robb knew the paths her mind was walking. “Lady Genna…”

 

“Yes, there’s a reason Tytos Lannister married his daughter to the future lord Ryder. Control of the Great Canal is a powerful thing, even just a portion of it.”

 

The thought didn’t sit well with Robb. “You can’t think she would convince lord Ryder to betray us? Jon’s married to two of their daughters.”

 

“I don’t think it’s likely.” Sabrina admitted. “But I would suggest at least a conversation. Perhaps a letter from his sister might dissuade lord Tywin from his current path.”

 

“A conversation then.” Robb agreed. “It seems after all these years, I still have much to learn from you.”

 

“Good.” Sabrina raised her glass. “Anyone who thinks they have nothing left to learn is a fool.”

 

When Robb was done with Sabrina, he set off to find lady Genna, unfortunately getting soaked again on the journey back to the main keep. A passing servant told Robb he saw her with Jon earlier. Robb knew what that meant. He was surprised to see Ygritte standing to attention outside her and Jon’s chambers like she was still his sworn shield.

 

“What are you doing out here?” Robb asked as Grey Wind greeted Cinder, Ygritte’s direwolf.

 

“Jon is trying to break me.” Ygritte said through gritted teeth. “He will not succeed.” It was then that Robb heard the moans and cries of pleasure through the thick oak door behind her. Robb chuckled to himself, earning a look of annoyance from Ygritte.

 

You dog, Jon. Making your wife stand guard while you fuck her mother.

 

Robb sidestepped her and pushed the heavy oak door open. The heady scent of sweat and sex hit him first, like the fist of an angry giant. Then it was the sight of Genna Ryder, naked as the day she was born, on all fours on a desk, as Jon ploughed her from behind, making her very abundant curves bounce madly. Her skin was flushed and sweaty, Jon had gathered her long blonde hair into a fist and was using it to pull her back onto him. Robb almost didn’t notice Val was passed out on the floor, as naked as her mother, Jon’s seed coating her arse and back.

 

“FUCK ME!” Genna screamed as Robb closed the door behind him. “FUCK ME! GGODDDS! JON! SO GOOOD!”

 

Jon grunted and struck her arse in response, making Genna scream and quiver as her climax ripped through her, before falling down to the desk.

 

Robb coughed to get their attention.

 

Jon looked up. “Hello Robb.” He said with a smile, not slowing his pace.

 

“Jon.” Robb greeted his brother nonchalantly, walking over to the pitcher of wine, stepping over Val’s prone body. “I see Val lacks Ygritte’s fortitude.”

 

“She couldn’t resist.” Jon laughed.

 

Robb poured himself a glass of wine, then indicated it towards Genna. “I would like to speak to her.”

 

“She’s indisposed at this time.” Jon smacked Genna’s massive arse again, making her moan incoherently.

 

“You can finish fucking her later.” Robb stepped over Val again, walking over to a chair where sat down.

 

“Fine… Just another minute?”

 

“I’m counting down.”

 

Jon began to thrust enthusiastically into Genna with renewed vigour, chasing his end. He found it within a few dozen more thrusts, depositing his seed deep into the womb of his wives’ mother.

 

Jon disconnected from her with a wet Phlat! He then placed her on a chair opposite Robb, giving her a few light slaps to wake her up. Genna lethargically opened her eyes with a smile on her face, then she stretched like a cat, making her exceedingly large breasts move pleasantly.

 

“Could I have some wine?” She asked, clearing her throat. Jon, who was now leaning against the desk, poured her one. “Thank you, stud…” She eyed Jon’s cock, before turning to Robb. “I believe I heard that you wanted to talk, my prince.”

 

“About lord Tywin.” Robb began. He knew that he would have to be the one to commence this, Jon was more than happy to be quiet and watch rather than talk.

 

“Ah…” Genna took a swig of wine and cleared her throat. “I’ve already sent letters-“

 

“Ygritte and Val already told us.” Jon interrupted her.

 

Genna looked from Jon to Robb. “I do not want bloodshed.” She said earnestly.

 

“None of us do.” Robb answered.

 

Genna rested her wine glass on her knee. “I have been a Ryder since before your parents met. I am loyal to my husband and my house.”

 

Robb raised his hand defensively. “I did not mean to offend.”

 

“I am not offended. I do not blame you for thinking I am conflicted over my loyalties.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Genna cast he eyes downward to her glass before she spoke. “I love my brothers… and I wish there was another way.” She paused. “But I love my husband and my children more. I am loyal to the North. If you call my husband to march against Tywin… While I certainly won’t be pleased that my husband is in danger, I will not stop him.”

 

Robb quickly glanced at Jon, it was all he needed to know they were of the same mind. It was the answer they had both been hoping for. Neither would question Genna Ryder’s loyalty gladly, she was Val and Ygritte’s mother. Neither of them could imagine themselves in a position where they would have to choose their wives or each other. They certainly didn’t envy Genna’s position.

 

“I plan to seize Lannister ships using the Great Canal.” Robb explained, Jon raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Perhaps the lost profit will dissuade your brother from war.”

 

“Thank you, Robb.” She beamed at him. “It gladdens my heart to hear you won’t jump to war as a first resort.”

 

“But if war does come-“

 

“I am loyal to my husband, my children and to you.” Genna affirmed.

 

“Good.” Robb got to his feet, setting his glass down on the desk. “If all is said, I will leave you to continue.”

 

Genna also rose from her seat and padded towards him, still naked. “Join us?” She looked up at him with beautiful green eyes, before reaching to Robb’s glass and downing the remains in one gulp. “To hear the girls tell it, being between two Stark cocks is an unbeatable experience, I should love to try it.”

 

“Next time, I have things to do.”

 

Genna shrugged and threw her arms around Jon’s neck, kissing him intently. The door burst open with a five foot tall redhead looking very annoyed with them.

 

“Ugh… Fuck it.” Ygritte swore, before stomping into the room, ripping off her tunic.

 

“Knew you’d break.” Jon laughed as Ygritte wrenched Genna from his grasp and threw her onto the desk.

 

“Fuck you, Jon Stark.” Ygritte seethed before pulling Jon into a heated embrace. After a few moments they pulled apart and Jon pushed Ygritte down on top of Genna.

 

“I believe your mother’s been doing just that.” He chuckled.

 

“Careful Jon, they might eat you alive.” Robb warned his brother as he turned to leave the room.

 

“I would die a happy man.” Jon said, then he whispered in Ygritte’s ear. “Genna looks a lot like you when she’s got my cock up her arse.” Robb heard a slap as Ygritte struck Jon’s chest, only for Jon to laugh all the more.

 

Robb was wandering to nowhere in particular when a servant called to him, telling him that Luwin and his mother were waiting for him in his father’s solar with an urgent message.

 

“This arrived on Hagman’s eagle.” Luwin handed Robb a piece of parchment when he arrived. He could scarcely believe the words on it.

 

“I…”

 

“The girls are safe and on their way home.” His Dayne mother reassured him. “But they’ve captured your father… and my brother.”

 

“We received this shortly after.” Luwin pulled out another letter. “ It is the queen's words. You’re summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new king.”

 

“Joffrey puts my father in chains, now he wants his arse kissed?” Robb seethed, throwing the letter on the table.

 

“This is a royal command, my Prince.” Luwin advised cautiously. “If you should refuse to obey...”

 

“I won't refuse. If His Grace summons me to go to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone…” So much for avoiding a war. “Call the banners.”

 

“All of them, my Lord?”

 

“They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?”

 

“They have.”

 

“Now we'll see what the words are worth.”

 

“As you command.” Luwin gave a wry smile and left Robb alone with his Dayne mother.

 

“You’re afraid.” She said, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

 

“Yes.” Robb answered in a small voice.

 

“Good.”

 

“Why is that good?”

 

“It means you understand the risk we’re about to take.”

 

There was an almighty crash and a sound so loud it shook the foundations of Winterfell. They both rushed out of the solar to see what had happened. They saw others doing the same as they left the keep, thankfully the storm had left them.

 

“It’s gone!” Robb heard Alyrianne shouting through the courtyard.

 

“What’s gone?” He asked his little sister.

 

“The hammer! Foesmasher! I saw it smash through a window. It’s flying south!”

 

 

 

***************************************************************************************************

 

Cat

 

 

It was too far to make out the banners clearly, but even through the drifting fog of the canal she could see that they were white, with a dark smudge in their center that could only be the direwolf of Stark. When she saw it with her own eyes, Cat straightened up as she leant against the forecastle of the ship and thanked the gods. They were not too late.

 

“I can see them.” Elia said beside her, taking her hand. Looking over to her wife, Cat let out a small smile.

 

“They await our coming, princess,” Ser Wylis Manderly said, “as my lord father swore they would.”

 

“His ships are as fast as he promised.” Cat’s Uncle, Ser Brynden Tully patted the the guard rail of the ship as he smiled.

 

“The fastest on the east or west coast of Westeros.” Ser Wendel said proudly.

 

Their ship was at the head of a column, leading the forces of House Manderly to meet up with the main northern army as they camped at Moat Cailin. All told, they were just over four thousand men, near two hundred knights with their squires closely following, with another four hundred mounted lances, Rangers and other freeriders. The rest were footmen, armed with spears, pikes and tridents. All of them packed into ten Galleons that sailed from White Harbour, along the Great Canal, to Moat Cailin.

 

It had been many years since Cat had seen the Great Canal, she had almost forgotten it’s vastness. It was a structure to match the magnificence of the Wall, Cat had no trouble believing that the Giants were needed to help build it. Their flotilla traveled in single file, though they did not need to. Three of their ships could safely sail side by side through the canal, with space to spare. Cat found herself wondering how many hundreds of ships passed through the canal in a year.

 

It wasn’t surprising that houses Ryder and Manderly were the richest houses in the North, other than house Stark, even surpassing the great Dwarf houses that mined gold and gemstones in the northern mountains. As each of those houses were charged with the guardianship of the canal, the west, middle and east respectively.

 

Lord Wyman, the guardian of the east side of the canal had remained behind to see to the defenses of White Harbor. A man of near sixty years, he had grown too fat to even mount his horse. “If I had thought to see war again in my lifetime, I should have eaten a few less eels,” he’d told Cat and Elia when he met their ship, slapping his massive belly with both hands. His fingers were fat as sausages. “My boys will see you safe to your sons, though, have no fear.”

 

His “boys” were both older than Cat and Elia, she might have wished that they did not take after their father quite so closely. They were both fat from a life of plenty and over indulgence. Wylis was quiet and formal, Wendel loud and boisterous. Yet she liked them well enough; they had gotten her and Elia to their children, as their father had vowed, and nothing else mattered.

 

“Our children are leading a host to war…” Elia said as their ship approached one of the many docks that Moat Cailin maintained. She could sense the apprehension in Elia’s voice.

 

“I can scarcely believe it myself.” Cat was desperately afraid for them, and for Winterfell, yet she could not deny feeling a certain pride as well.

 

Members of the Ice Guard greeted them warmly as the ship’s crew threw lines to the dock workers, so the ship could be pulled in and tied down. Ser Wylis remained behind with his men to see them properly disembarked and the horses tended, while his brother Wendel went with Cat, her uncle and Elia to present their father’s respects to their liege lord.

 

Together, the group went up the long, wide granite stairs that lead from the docks, to the main keep. They walked past men going up and down the stairs, heavy-laden with hardbread, salt beef and other supplies. When they finally reached the peak of the stairs, the great main keep of Moat Cailin stood before them, with hundreds of banners flying high over it.

 

Just beyond the keep, Cat glimpsed the high walls and towers of Moat Cailin. It was smaller than Winterfell, but no less intimidating. The main keep and other structures around it resided at the top of a great hill on the south side of the canal, connected to the north over two great wooden bridges. Three sets of high, thick walls protected the castle from the south, each with a gatehouse near as big as the main keep. All together, the three sets of walls had fifty tall towers, commanding strong positions against any would-be attackers below them.

 

Cat had read in a book that the Children of the Forest had once called upon the Old Gods to send the hammer of the waters on Westeros from this stronghold, and broken the arm of Dorne, creating the thousand islands that were now called the Step-Stones. Cat had once asked Sylvie if that had been true, she hadn’t been able to answer as Ned had been railing her as if his life had depended on it.

 

“Gods have mercy,” Brynden exclaimed when he saw what lay before them. “I pity any fool that dares storm this place.”

 

“It’s even worse than you think.” Elia told him. “Ned explained it all to us when we first saw it. Any army that attacks this castle must first march down a very long, very thin winding causeway to get to even the first gatehouse, all the while being pelted with arrows, magic and stones from Moat Cailin.”

 

“The bogs here are impenetrable,” Cat added. “full of quicksands and suckholes, teeming with snakes and lizard-lions. In the unlikely event that they manage to get through the first wall, an army would need to wade through waist-deep black muck, cross a moat full of lizard-lions, and scale walls slimy with moss, all the while exposing themselves to archers in the towers.” She gave her uncle a grim smile. “And when night falls, there are said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the north who hunger for southron blood.” They weren’t even mentioning the horrors that awaited an enemy army that dared cross the Neck, Crannogmen, Lizardmen and stories even told of a Guardian over the Neck, a great Lizard monster that could swallow a dragon whole.

 

Brynden chuckled. “Remind me not to linger here. Last I looked, I was southron myself.”

 

Cat and Elia set off towards the main keep, with Brynden and Ser Wendel following. They found their children surrounded by the lords of the North and to their surprise, Ash, in a drafty hall with a peat fire smoking in a black hearth. Robb, Jon, Rhaenys and Alysanne were seated at a massive stone table, a pile of maps and papers in front of them, talking intently with Ash, Benjen, Donmar Dhalark and Greatjon.

 

At first they did not notice them... but the wolves did. The great beasts were lying near the fire, but when Cat and Elia entered they lifted their heads. The lords fell silent one by one, Ash was the first to see them, she quickly left the table and hurried over, taking Cat and Elia in her arms. She had missed the smell of her Dayne wife. Cat looked over to see all of the children were standing now, looking at them.

 

Cat wanted to run to them, to kiss them, to wrap them in her arms and hold them so tightly that they would never come to harm... but here in front of the lords, she dared not. They were leaders of the North, she had to push down her motherly wants, at least where others could see them. So Cat held herself at the far end of the basalt slab they were using for a table, Elia and Ash joined her, she could tell they were feeling the same thing. Redmane got to her feet and happily scampered over to where she stood.

 

Cat was the first to speak. “You’ve grown beards,” she said to her sons, while her wolf sniffed her hand.

 

Robb and Jon looked to each other, rubbing their stubbled jaws. “Yes.” Robb’s chin hairs were redder than the ones on his head.

 

“I like them.” Cat stroked her wolf’s head, gently. “It makes you look like my brother Edmure. And you,” she turned to Jon. “It makes you look even more like your father.” Jon battled the grin as it spread across his features.

 

Ser Helman Tallhart was the first to walk across the room to pay his respects, kneeling before her and Elia. “Princesses” he said, “you are both fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times.” The Glovers followed, Galbart and Robett, Rodrik Martark, Sylvie, and Greatjon Umber, and the rest, one by one.

 

Donmar was the last, a completely bald man with a small black beard. “I had not looked to see either of you here, Princess,” he said as he knelt.

 

“We had not thought to be here,” Elia said, “until we came ashore at White Harbor, and Lord Wyman told us that Robb had called the banners. You know his son, Ser Wendel,” Wendel Manderly stepped forward and bowed as low as his girth would allow.

 

Cat spoke now. “And my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who has left my sister’s service for mine.”

 

“The Blackfish,” Jon said, slightly in awe. “Thank you for joining us, ser. We have all heard tell of your many great victories during the last Blackfyre rebellion from our uncle Beric. We need men of your courage.”

 

“And you, Ser Wendel,” Robb added. “I am glad to have you here. Is Rodrik with you as well, Mother? We’ve missed that old Ranger.”

 

“Rodrik is on his way north from White Harbor.” Cat answered. “I have named him castellan and commanded him to hold Winterfell till our return. Luwin is a wise counsellor, but unskilled in the arts of war.”

 

“Have no fear on that count, Princess Stark,” the Greatjon told her in his bass rumble. “Winterfell is safe. We’ll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister’s bunghole soon enough, begging your pardons, and then it’s on to the Red Keep to free Ned.”

 

“That’s certainly a plan I can agree with.” Elia nodded to the giant of a man.

 

“My lady, a question, as it please you.” Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, had a small voice, yet when he spoke larger men quieted to listen. His eyes were curiously pale, almost without color, and his look disturbing. “It is said that you both hold Lord Tywin’s dwarf son as captive. Have you brought him to us? We should make good use of such a hostage.”

 

“We did hold Tyrion Lannister, but no longer,” Elia admitted. A chorus of consternation greeted the news.

 

“We are no more pleased than you, my lords.” Cat added her voice to her wife’s. “The gods saw fit to free him…”

 

“With some help from your fool of a sister.” Elia added. “Sorry Cat…”

 

“No, you are completely right to say it.” Cat pinched the bridge of her nose. “My sister is a fool, as I am for trusting her.” She ought not to be so open in her contempt, Cat knew, but her sister had been so far removed from the girl she knew that she might as well have been a different person. Lysa had seemed near deranged, keeping her son with her at all times, muttering about Petyr. Cat had not the heart to tell her what really happened to him. From his confession, Cat knew they had been lovers, seeing little Robert Arryn, she could not deny it. She was still wondering how she could tell Ned that Jon Arryn’s son was really a Baelish.

 

Parting from the Eyrie had not been pleasant affair. She had offered to take little Robert with her, to foster him at Winterfell for a few years. Even if he was not Jon Arryn’s son, the company of other boys would do him good, she had dared to suggest. Lysa’s rage had been frightening to behold. “Sister or no,” she had replied, “if you try to steal my son, you and your Dornish harlot will leave by the Moon Door.” After that there was no more to be said.

 

The lords were anxious to question them further, but Cat raised a hand. “No doubt we will have time for all this later, but our journey has fatigued us. We would speak with our children alone. I know you will forgive us, my lords.” She gave them no choice; led by the ever-obliging Lord Hornwood, the bannermen bowed and took their leave.

 

There was ale and cheese on the table. Cat, Ash and Elia all sat at the table, as their children sat down too. “I suppose we should congratulate you, mother.” Rhaenys smiled at Elia. “It took you long enough to marry him.” She giggled.

 

“I suppose it did…” Elia responded, he hand ghosting over the small bump of her belly. Cat did not envy what Elia would have to tell Rhaenys about her brother’s true parentage.

 

“I’m the only woman in this room, who isn’t pregnant.” Alysanne said, with a laugh, after looking around.

 

“With the amount of men you take to bed, nightly, that’s sure to change.” Ash laughed into her cup.

 

“I am a Stark, mother.” Alysanne asserted. “It doesn’t seem right for me to only have one partner.”

 

“You know... about Father?” Jon asked them from across the table, cutting straight to the meat.

 

“Yes.” Cat answered. The reports of Robert’s sudden death and Ned’s fall had frightened Cat more than she could say, but she would not let her children see her fear.

 

“Lord Manderly told us when we landed at White Harbor.” Elia explained. “Have you had any word of your sisters?”

 

“They got out of King’s Landing with the majority of the household.” Ash said. “Not long before we left, we received a letter from the queen, telling us how she holds Ned and Arthur. They are her hostages in the Black Cells.”

 

“I had hoped... If you still held the Imp, a trade of hostages...” Robb grumbled, clearly trying not to blame her. “Is there word from the Eyrie? I wrote to Aunt Lysa, asking help. Has she called Lord Arryn’s banners, do you know? Will the knights of the Vale come join us?”

 

“Only one,” Cat said, “the best of them, my uncle... but Brynden Blacksh was a Tully first. My sister is not about to stir beyond her Bloody Gate.”

 

Robb took it hard. “What are we going to do? We brought this whole army together, over sixty thousand men, but I don’t... I’m not certain...” Cat wanted to go to him then, to take him in her arms and tell him that everything would be alright. But she could not let him despair.

 

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked gently.

 

“I...” He took a deep breath as Rhaenys reached for his hand. “If we march... What’s to stop them from killing father and uncle Arthur?”

 

“If they did not hold Prince Stark, we could ride our dragons to King’s Landing and end the war in a day.” Rhaenys said hotly, her Targaryen and Dornish fire showing.

 

“And therein lies their reason.” Cat told them.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Ned and Arthur are extremely valuable.” Cat explained. “If we were to defeat the Lannister forces in the field, then the Lannisters would be able to exchange them for their own lives. If the gods are with us and we should chance to take Lord Tywin or the Kingslayer captive, then a trade might very well be possible, but that is not the heart of it. So long as we have power enough that they must fear us, Ned and Arthur should be safe. Cersei is wise enough to know that she may need them to make her peace, should the fighting go against her.”

 

“What if the fighting doesn’t go against her?” Jon asked. “What if it goes against us?”

 

“We cannot soften the truth for you.” Ash said. “If we lose, there is no hope for any of us.“

 

Jon and Robb locked eyes for a moment, a look of grim resolve came over them both. “Then we will not lose.” Robb affirmed.

 

“Tell us what you know of the fighting in the riverlands,” Cat said. She needed to know if they had a good plan.

 

“Less than a fortnight past, they fought a battle in the hills below the Golden Tooth,” Robb said. “Uncle Edmure had sent Lord Vance and Lord Piper to hold the pass, but the Kingslayer descended on them and put them to flight. Lord Vance was slain. The last word we had was that Lord Piper was falling back to join your brother and his other bannermen at Riverrun, with Jaime Lannister on his heels. That’s not the worst of it, though. All the time they were battling in the pass, Lord Tywin was bringing a second Lannister army around from the south. It’s said to be even larger than Jaime’s host.”

 

“Father must have known that,” Jon added. “because he sent out some men to oppose them, under the king’s own banner. He gave the command to some southron lordling, only it was a trap. The lord had no sooner crossed the Red Fork than the Lannisters fell upon him, the king’s banner be damned, the Lannisters took them in the rear as they tried to pull back across the Mummer’s Ford. Some might have escaped, no one is certain, but Ser Raymun was killed, and most of our men from Winterfell. Lord Tywin has closed off the kingsroad, it’s said, and now he’s marching north toward Harrenhal, burning as he goes.”

 

Grim and grimmer, thought Cat. It was worse than she’d imagined. “You mean to meet him here?” she asked.

 

“If he comes so far, but no one thinks he will,” Robb answered her. “We’ve given orders to Howland Reed, Lord Martark and The Order of the Mist. If the Lannisters come up the Neck, they will die. But Galbart Glover says Tywin is too smart for that, the rest agree. He knows he can’t touch us here. So, he’ll stay close to the Trident, they believe, taking the castles of the river lords one by one, until Riverrun stands alone. We need to march south to meet him.”

 

Cat knew with all her heart that she hated her children going to war, but it seemed there was no other choice. “You said you brought sixty thousand men with you. The land cannot support that many more men.”

 

“Yes,” Rhaenys agreed. “our food and supplies are running low, and this is not land we can live off easily. We’ve been waiting for Lord Manderly, but now that his sons have joined us, we need to march.”

 

“Marching is all very well,” Elia said, “but where, and to what purpose? What do you mean to do?”

 

“We have eight dragons.” Rhaenys said. “Mine, Robb’s, Jon’s and Alysanne’s, with Lyanna’s, Benjen’s, Alfred’s and Osric’s.” Cat knew Osric had only seen sixteen namedays, she wondered how Benjen was coping with sending him to war. “Soon Sansa will be back in the North, and we’ll have another dragon rider.”

 

“Nine dragons…” Elia said. It was certainly a great advantage.

 

“Only four of which have ever seen a battle.” Cat said, perhaps harsher than she’d meant. “All the others are young and small.”

 

Robb hesitated. “Uncle Benjen did say we shouldn’t overly rely on our dragons. The Greatjon thinks we should take the battle to Lord Tywin and surprise him,” he said, “but the Glovers and the Karstarks feel we’d be wiser to go around his army and join up with Uncle Edmure against the Kingslayer.” He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of auburn hair, looking unhappy. “I’m not certain...”

 

“Be certain,” Cat told her son, “or go home and take up that wooden sword again. You cannot afford to be indecisive against Tywin Lannister. Make no mistake, Robb—he has fought more battles than you have, he has experience. You named yourself battle commander. Command.”

 

Robb set his jaw. “Alright.”

 

“I’ll ask you again. What do you mean to do?”

 

They all looked to Robb as he drew a map across the table, a ragged piece of old leather covered with lines of faded paint. One end curled up from being rolled; he weighed it down with his dagger. “Both plans have virtues, but... look, if we try to swing around Lord Tywin’s host, we take the risk of being caught between him and the Kingslayer… The Greatjon says we catch him with his breeches down, but it seems to me that a man who has fought as many battles as Tywin Lannister won’t be so easily surprised.”

 

“Good…” Cat said. She could hear echoes of Ned in his voice, as he sat there, puzzling over the map. “What else?”

 

“I’d leave a small force here to hold Moat Cailin, and march the rest down the causeway,” he said, “but once we’re below the Neck, I’d split our host in two. The foot can continue down the kingsroad, while our faster forces cross the Green Fork at the Twins.” He pointed. “When Lord Tywin gets word that we’ve come south, he’ll march north to engage our main host, leaving our riders free to hurry down the west bank to Riverrun.” Robb sat back, not quite daring to smile, but pleased with himself and hungry for praise.

 

Catelyn frowned down at the map. “You’d put a river between the two parts of your army.”

 

“And between Jaime and Lord Tywin,” he said eagerly. The smile came at last. “There’s no crossing on the Green Fork above the ruby ford. Not until the Twins, all the way up here, and Lord Frey controls that bridge. He’s your father’s bannerman, isn’t that so?”

 

The Late Lord Frey, Cat thought. “He is,” she admitted, “but my father has never trusted him. Nor should you.”

 

“I won’t,” Robb promised. “What do you think?”

 

She was impressed despite herself. He looks like a Tully, she thought, yet he’s still his father’s son, and Ned taught him well. “Which force would you command?”

 

“The horse,” he answered at once. Again like his father; Ned would always take the more dangerous task himself.

 

“And the other?”

 

“I will.” Jon volunteered. Cat felt a pang of fear run through her heart. She had only just gotten back to at least a part of her family, she did not wish for them to be split up even more. “I’ll take uncle Benjen, Alfred and Osric too.” He added.

 

“Good.” Rhaenys said. “Then Alys, Lyanna and I will go with Robb. Both groups will have two veteran dragons.” Alysanne nodded her approval.

 

“These are good plans.” Ash said, smiling at their children. Both Cat and Elia also added their agreement.

 

Robb nodded and rolled up the map. “I’ll give the commands, and assemble an escort to take you three home to Winterfell.” He said to his mothers.

 

Cat looked to her two wives, though no words were spoken, they all reached an agreement quickly. “We’re not going home just yet.” Elia said. “We’re staying with you.”

Notes:

And that’s a wrap! This chapter takes the fic over 200,000 words, that’s a big milestone that i’m happy to share with you all. Here’s to the next 200,000!

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Until we meet again, next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 23: Chapter 18

The straw on the floor stank of urine. There was no window, no bed, not even a slop bucket. Ned remembered walls of pale red stone festooned with patches of nitre, a grey door of hard wood, four inches thick and covered in enchantments. The bitter, irony taste in his mouth told Ned the air was thick with Dimeritium dust. The dark was absolute. He could have seen in the dark, if the Dimeritium hadn’t been suppressing his magic.

 

Ned had been there before, when he had rescued Arthur at the end of the rebellion, so many years ago. Lannister men had deposited Ned in the Black Cells, chaining his one hand to the wall, after they had subdued him, not even bothering to give him clothes to replace the ones that had been torn off in the fight.

 

Alone and chained, Ned had not been defeated. There were few forms of magic Dimeritium had no effect on, thankfully warging was one of them. Ned had slipped into Snowflake’s skin and freed the dragons from the Dragonpit.

 

He had tried his best to protect his daughters as they made their escape, but Joffrey’s dragon had been too strong. The pain of being torn apart by a dragon was matched only by the pain of being responsible for Snowflake’s death.

 

Ned took some comfort in the fact that in Snowflake’s dying moments, he had seen his daughters had escaped. All the tortures and indignities the Lannisters had in store for him were dreams compared to what would happen if they had taken his daughters too.

 

Not too long after Ned saw his daughters escape, they had brought a ragged Arthur into his cell, chaining him to a pillar opposite Ned, when they left, both men were embraced by the darkness again.

 

“We need to stop meeting like this, brother.” Arthur chuckled in the dark. That was some comfort. At least Ned would not be alone. “I stayed behind to hold off our pursuers.” Arthur explained.

 

“They eluded the Lannisters.” Ned told him. “I saw them on a ship out of the Blackwater through Snowflake’s eyes.

 

“So the only have us.” Arthur said. “Means we won’t need to take anyone with us when we escape.” They both laughed together.

 

“Do you already have a plan?”

 

“I’m formulating one. Are you perchance any good at mummery?”

 

“Mummery?!”

 

“Yes. Feign illness, or say your leg is getting worse. When the guard comes in to check, we kill him and take his keys.”

 

It sounded like a good plan. However, it seemed no amount of pained wailing could coax anyone into their cell.

 

“It was worth a try.” Arthur said, after what felt like hours.

 

“What of Dawn?” Ned ventured.

 

“By now, probably has more wards on it than the queen’s bedchamber.” Arthur laughed, bitterly.

 

“Ice is the same.” Ned admitted. “It will not come.”

 

“Still… There is one thing.” Arthur said. “I’ve never felt more worthy of that blade, than when I was protecting the girls.”

 

Worthy? Worthy…

 

‘Whosoever wields this hammer, if they be worthy, shall posses the power of Jonothor’

 

The inscription on Foesmasher ran through Ned’s mind. Memories of the time he held the hammer in his hand, yet did not dare to lift it. It was a fool’s hope. Yet, sitting in the Black Cells, Ned felt a bigger fool than ever before. He stretched out his hand and called for it, sending off a prayer to the Old Gods.

 

Yet nothing came... Cersei’s words whispered through his head. “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die,”. Ned had played and lost, he didn’t even know how many of his men had died for his foolishness.

 

After a time, Ned and Arthur just sat together in the dark. For how long, he could not say. There was no sun, no moon to tell the passing of time. They might as well had been buried alive. Ned closed his eyes and opened them; it made no difference. He slept and woke and slept again. His leg was healing, thankfully. Though it was slower than it should have been.

 

In the silence, Ned thought of Cat, Ash and Elia, his wives. The women he loved. He wondered where they were, what they were doing. He wondered whether he would ever see them again.

 

Hours turned to days, or so it seemed. Arthur’s resolve returned faster than Ned’s did. He reminded Ned that all was not lost. His daughters were free and heading back North. Robert’s brothers were out in the world, raising armies at Dragonstone and Storm’s End. Alyn and Harwin would return to King’s Landing with other men of the Ice Guard once they had dealt with Tywin’s men. The armies of the North would rise to free him, with them the Riverlands, Vale and maybe Dorne too.

 

Ned and Arthur were half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first Ned thought he dreamt them, but Arthur said heard them too. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was blinding to them both. A gaoler thrust two jugs at them. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. Both men grasped the jugs and drank heartily. Water ran from Ned’s mouth and dripped down through his beard. He drank until he thought he would be sick.

 

“How long...?” he croaked weakly when he could drink no more. Arthur stood on shaky legs behind the man, but his chains rattled against the wall. The gaoler turned around and pressed a runed sceptre into Arthur’s side. Arcs of blue energy sprung from the sceptre with a loud buzzing sound, finding Arthur’s flesh. He grunted in pain and bent over.

 

“Leave him be!” Ned shouted, throwing the jug at the man’s head as he stumbled to his feet.

 

The jug smashed against the gaolers leather cap, he turned and pressed the sceptre into Ned’s unprotected stomach with a cruel smile. Ned felt like his stomach was on fire. He tumbled to his knees with a thud, convulsing like he was Cat after he and Ash filled her holes together. The gaoler took the unbroken jug, the door crashed shut behind him.

 

Ned blinked at the sudden loss of light. “Arthur.” He grunted, still unable to get up from the floor. “You still alive?”

 

“Just barely, brother.” Arthur responded, along with rattling chains, telling Ned he was probably sitting up again.

 

“I’d forgotten how much I hated it down here.”

 

“You survived nearly a year in these cells.” Ned encouraged him. “We can survive together.”

 

After the first time, the turnkey brought them more water. They both agreed that each time he brought them water, it was a new day. But men could not survive on water alone. Whenever they asked for food, they were denied water.

 

“The Lannisters can’t wish for us to starve.” Arthur said after they’d been given their water for the day.

 

“We would be dead already if Cersei wanted it so.” Ned answered him. Cersei knew they were much more useful alive. “Elia and Cat hold her brother. If they kill us, he dies too. Besides, if they kill us, what’s to stop Stark dragons from coming straight to the Red Keep and killing them all.”

 

From outside the cell came the rattle of iron chains. As the door creaked open, Ned put his hand to the damp wall and pushed himself toward the light. The glare of a torch made him squint.

 

“Food,” he croaked.

 

“Wine,” a voice answered. It was not the turnkey; this gaoler was stouter, shorter, though he wore the same leather half cape.

 

“Drink.” He produced two wineskins and thrust into Arthur’s and Ned’s hands. The voice was strangely familiar, yet it took Ned a moment to place it.

 

“Varys?” he said groggily when it came. He touched the man’s face. “What are you doing here?” The eunuch’s plump cheeks were covered with a dark stubble of beard. Ned felt the coarse hair with his fingers. Varys had transformed himself into a grizzled turnkey, reeking of sweat and sour wine. “How did you...?”

 

“With much practice,” Varys said. “Drink, my prince.”

 

Ned’s hand fumbled at the skin. “Is this the same poison they gave Robert?”

 

“You wrong me,” Varys said sadly. “Why is it no one every trusts the eunuch? Give me the skin.” He drank, a trickle of red leaking from the corner of his plump mouth. “No more poisonous than most,” he concluded, wiping his lips. “Here.” Ned tried a swallow. He felt as though he were about to bring the wine back up. “All men must swallow the sour with the sweet. High lords and eunuchs alike. Your hour has come, my lord.”

 

“Do you know of my daughters...”

 

“Their ship is far away,” Varys told him. “A kindness, there. Our new king was terribly wroth after one of your men stuck an arrow in his dragon’s eye. I trust you realize that you are a dead man, Prince Eddard?”

 

“The queen won’t kill me,” Ned said. His head swam; the wine was strong, and it had been too long since he’d eaten. “Cat and Elia hold her brother...”

 

“The wrong brother,” Varys sighed. “And lost to them, in any case. They let the Imp slip through their fingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon.”

 

“If that is true, slit our throats and have done with it.” Ned was dizzy from the wine, tired and heartsick. “We will not be used against our family.”

 

“Your blood is the last thing I desire.”

 

Ned frowned. “When they killed my men, you stood beside the queen and watched, and said not a word.”

 

“And would again. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords. Alas, I am not as fine a warrior as you or Ser Arthur.” The eunuch looked at them curiously, tilting his head. “When I was a young boy, before I was cut, I traveled with a troupe of mummers through the Free Cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play. The same is true at court. The master of whisperers must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight.” He took Ned’s wineskin back and drank. Ned studied the eunuch’s face, searching for truth beneath the mummer’s scars and false stubble.

 

He tried some more wine. This time it went down easier. “Can you free us from this pit?”

 

“I could... but will I? No. Questions would be asked, and the answers would lead back to me.”

 

Ned had expected no more. “You are blunt.”

 

“A eunuch has no honor, and a spider does not enjoy the luxury of scruples, my prince. What strange fit of madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey’s birth?”

 

“The madness of mercy,” Ned admitted. “I’d hoped she would save her children.”

 

“Ah,” said Varys. “To be sure. You are an honest and honourable man, Prince Eddard. Both of you are very worthy men. Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life.” He glanced around the cell. “When I see what honesty and honour have won you, I understand why.”

 

“Honesty and honour might have landed us in this pit, Spider.” Arthur spat, talking for the first time. “But it has also won us a great many friends. Friends who will not sit idly by and allow this to pass. You flitter from king to king, lord Varys. Aerys… Robert… Now Joffrey. Who would rise for you, were you in our position, I wonder?”

 

“Oh, no one i’m sure.” Varys answered. “I am not as rich in friendships as you two. However, your friends are a great distance away and of little use to you here.”

 

“Fear of reprisals is what’s keeping us alive.” Arthur countered.

 

Ned laid his head back against the damp stone wall and closed his eyes. He was sick of Varys and Arthur’s fighting. “The king’s wine... did you question Lancel?”

 

“Oh, indeed.” Varys turned back to him. “Cersei gave him the wineskins, and told him it was Robert’s favorite vintage.” The eunuch shrugged. “But it wasn’t Cersei or Lancel, or even the Minotaur that did it. Oh, the wine slowed him down and the minotaur ripped him open… but it was your mercy that killed the king.” Ned had feared as much. “The queen would not have waited long in any case.” Varys said, “Robert was becoming unruly, and she needed to be rid of him to free her hands to deal with his brothers. They are quite a pair, Stannis and Renly. The iron gauntlet and the silk glove.” Varys smiled. “On the morrow the queen will pay you a visit.”

 

Slowly Ned raised his eyes. “Why?”

 

“Cersei is frightened of you, my prince... but she has other enemies she fears even more. Her beloved Jaime is fighting the river lords even now. Lysa Arryn sits in the Eyrie, ringed in stone and steel if the Vale were to declare independence, the Lannisters would not be able to stop them. And your sons call all the armies of the North to win your freedom, with a dozen dragons at their command.”

 

“They’re only boys…” Ned said mournfully. He had fought wars all his life to make sure his children would never have to endure the hardships that he faced. All of it seemed so pointless in that instant.

 

“They’re older than you were, when you won Robert his crown” Varys countered him. “Yet still only boys, as you say. The king’s brothers are of greater concern... Lord Stannis in particular. His claim is the true one, he’s a proved battle commander, a dragon rider, and he is utterly without mercy. There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.”

 

“Stannis Baratheon is Robert’s true heir,” Ned said. “The throne is his by rights.”

 

Varys tsked. “There are those who would disagree with that assessment. I have yet to say whom Cersei fears most.”

 

“If not Stannis, then who?”

 

“A certain Targaryen princess. Younger and more beautiful. With a babe in her belly. Who’s husband is at the head of an army.”

 

“Why would she fear Daenerys Targaryen?”

 

“She doesn’t even know Daenerys exists.” Varys scoffed. “I speak of Rhaenys. There are many in the seven kingdoms who would want to see a Targaryen back on the Iron throne. She would already have the North, the Riverlands and Dorne as her supporters-”

 

“Is that your game?” Ned interrupted Varys. “Are you still a creature of the Targaryens after all these years? Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve?”

 

Varys smiled thinly. “Why, the realm, of course. Someone has to.” With that, he left the cell, leaving Ned and Arthur in darkness again.

 

“Do you think he means to place Rhaenys on the throne?” Arthur asked. The thought troubled Ned greatly.

 

“I do not know...” Ned pondered. It was a conundrum. One that they were left with until they heard a sound on the other side of the door. Cersei Lannister walked into the cell, in a fine gown of red silk. She was shadowed by four Golden Legionaries. One of them walked over to a sconce between Ned and Arthur, placing his torch in it.

 

“Leave us.” Cersei commanded. “And you may return to your posts.”

 

“Should we not wait outside the cell?” One of them asked.

 

Cersei whirled in a rage. “They are both in chains! What do you think they could do to me? Leave this cell and return to your post this instant, or you’ll join them in bondage.”

 

Her four guards left them in the cell in a hurry after that, with the torch being the only source of light. There was silence as they listened to the armoured boots ringing against the stone steps as the guards returned to their posts.

 

“Apologies for not rising to greet you, your grace.” Arthur grunted, rattling his chains as he moved his arms. “If you wish to fuck Ned in peace, i’m afraid all I can do is look away.”

 

Cersei shot the knight a look so cold Ned thought she could have passed for a Stark, if not for the blonde hair. “Why are you here, you grace?” He asked her.

 

Cersei turned back to him, then tilted her head slightly. “…You got your men killed, Stark. Their heads line the castle wall…” So she had come to gloat. Ned would not give Cersei the satisfaction of showing his pain, but her words were knives to his heart. Most of all because they were true, he had been the cause of their deaths. He had lead them south and he had decided to stay. “You should have joined me when I gave you my offer.” She smiled cruelly then, her eyes shining green in the fire light. “If you had, they would live, and we could be in my bedchambers right now.”

 

“Not even my wives could convince me to betray my friends,” Ned defied her. “and you are far from their equal.”

 

Cersei struck him then. Arthur strained against his chains, trying to rise. “So you’re happy to fuck me, but you don’t have the stomach to join me?” She spat. “Coward.”

 

“Your words wound me, truly…” Ned dully responded. “But I’d have thought you wouldn’t have the time to come down here and fling insults at your prisoner. The Lannister armies are in the Riverlands, what happens when Stannis comes to take his crown?”

 

The queen coiled like a viper, pressing her lips into a thin line. “We have dragons, men-“

 

“Not enough.” Ned interrupted her. “I told you to take your children and run. Stannis will come with his armies and his dragon, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.” Cersei clenched her teeth tightly as Ned continued. “The sooner you realise this is folly, the sooner you’ll be able to escape with your children.”

 

“You speak of folly,” Cersei smiled. “yet here you sit in a cell.”

 

Ned was growing tired of Cersei’s games. “What do you want of me?”

 

She regarded him for a moment. “Robert is dead-“

 

“You killed him.” Ned interrupted her.

 

“Robert is dead,” Cersei repeated. “Stannis holds no love for you, Renly abandoned you here. These are not men worthy of your loyalty.” She knelt down beside him, taking his cock in her hand. “They cannot give you what I can…”

 

“What are you doing?” Ned asked as he shifted on the floor.

 

“Perhaps I can get you to reconsider joining me.” She smiled, at Ned, rubbing him to hardness. “Together we could vanquish Stannis, Renly and anyone else…”

 

“I do not wish to fight Renly or Stannis…”

 

Cersei laughed at that, “I’ve been known to change men’s minds very easily…”

 

“Is that how you enticed Janos Slynt into betray us?” Arthur sounded from across the room, reminding them that he was still there.

 

“Ugh, that toad of a man…” Cersei spat as she turned to Arthur. “Do not speak of him to me. I can still feel his grubby little hands on my skin.” She stood up and began to remove her dress. “I’d much rather feel yours.”

 

Her silk dress fell to the floor in one smooth motion, she wore no small-clothes. It became abundantly clear to Ned that she had come down to fuck him, either to get him to join her, or just because she wanted to.

 

“Does Joffrey know you’re here?” Ned asked, feigning innocence.

 

“What Joffrey doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Cersei said, dismissively, pulling a long hairpin out of her golden locks, letting them fall freely as she dropped the pin to the floor, before putting a hand on her hip. She stood like a woman all too aware of her own beauty.

 

Ned could hardly blame her.

 

The flickering light of the torch gave her a warm glow as she cast a long shadow on the wall. Her golden tresses shone in the torchlight, coupled with her beautifully elegant face, womanly body and flawless, creamy skin, made her a vision of beauty.

 

Near enough a match to any one of his wives, if Ned only considered physical attributes in his judgments. Ned could feel himself growing harder at the sight of her.

 

“Perhaps you could unlock my chains.” Arthur said. “So I might be able to give you some privacy.”

 

“You won’t be getting out of those chains.” Cersei shot back. “I doubt you’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight.” Cersei turned towards Arthur and began to run her hands over her body, cupping her breasts up.

 

“Eh, Lyanna’s are better.” Arthur responded, uninterested.

 

Cersei gave him a sour look, then turned back to Ned, kneeling down. “There’s something so enticingly erotic about fucking in a dirty, dark cell.” She said, taking his cock in hand.

 

“All you life, you’ve been used to the comforts of a soft bed.” Ned knew what she meant. It had been a feeling he and his wives had explored together many times. “And you’ve always wondered what it might feel like to be taken . In a gutter. Where the place reflects the scandalousness of your actions.”

 

“Yes…” Cersei bit her lip as she rubbed his cock, her other hand snaking down her body to her cunt. “No one’s ever taken me the way you took me.” She gasped. “Not even Jaime… I want it again…”

 

“Only if you admit it.”

 

“What?”

 

“That down here, you aren’t a Queen. You came down here, so I could fuck you.” Cersei bit her lip as she started rubbing him faster. “Say it.”

 

“Yes.” She admitted in a small voice.

 

“Louder.”

 

“Yes, I came down here so you could fuck me!” Cersei lunged forwards, crashing her lips against Ned’s in a passionate kiss. She devoured Ned like a woman dying of hunger. He growled into her mouth when she manoeuvred herself onto his lap and sat on his cock. Cersei’s hands found his shoulders and held them as her head fell back in pleasure, offering her large, perfect breasts up to him. Though Arthur was right, Lyanna’s were better. “Ahhhhh!” Her moans echoed throughout the black cells. Ned felt her dizzying tightness squeezing his cock as she rose up and down on him. “Fuck me…” Cersei whimpered as she worked her hips, the loud clapping of her peachy behind slapping against his thighs drowned out her moans.

 

“I really don’t know how you Starks do it.” Ned heard Arthur say across the room.

 

“Honestly, neither do I.” Ned admitted.

 

It was always a wonder how many people just fell into a Stark’s bed, male or female. Ned’s sister and mother had boasted as many partners as Ned or his father ever had. All through the history of their house, Starks had had multiple partners. Men and women had always been all too eager to be bedded by a Stark.

 

Of course, this was not something Ned wished to dwell on, not when he had a beautiful woman writhing in his lap. Cersei was in a world of her own, moaning and crying her pleasure as she humped Ned’s cock. She was using him for her own pleasure, the fact that Ned enjoyed it too was of little consequence to her.

 

The sensations of the cool air caressing his cock after withdrawing from Cersei’s tight heat, only to be plunged right back inside nearly made Ned spend himself right there, but he held out.

 

Ned took hold of Cersei’s golden mane as he began to pump his hips up to meet her. This seemingly unlocked a whole new level of pleasure for Cersei, who moaned all the louder, coming to a shaking climax as Ned fucked her from beneath.

 

The rage Ned had inside himself for Cersei and his own foolish actions began to bubble up. “You’re only good for one thing.” He growled. “Do you know what it is?”

 

“I’m only good for fucking!” She wailed in response.

 

“Wrong!” Ned yanked her hair down as he thrust with particularly savage force, making Cersei scream so loud, they must have heard her in the Great Sept of Baelor.

 

“You’re only good for getting fucked!” Ned was giving her the full force of his fucking now, using her like a back alley whore.

 

All Cersei could do was cling to him as he wrecked her body with undeniable pleasure. She pressed her head into his shoulder in an effort to muffle her moans as she quivered around him, submitting to his dominant thrusts.

 

Ned glanced at Arthur when Cersei put her head down. Arthur was frantically indicating with his head towards the floor and apparently had been doing so for some time. Ned followed Arthur’s gaze to Cersei’s dress, he gave Arthur a confused look as he mouthed a question.

 

What?

 

Arthur’s disappointment was clear. He began nodding, somewhat angrily, a bit more to the left. It was then that Ned saw it.

 

Cersei’s hair pin.

 

It had two long metal prongs and emeralds at the end. All became clear. It was out of Arthur’s reach, but Ned could kick it over to him. If Arthur had it… Maybe, maybe, maybe he could use it to unlock his shackles.

 

They put their plan into motion.

 

Taking Cersei with his arm, Ned repositioned. He lifted Cersei from his lap and put her on her back, looking away from Arthur. In the process of moving, he kicked the hair pin all the way over to Arthur, who picked it up and began to work away at his lock. Ned’s chain jangled as he pulled it slightly to get more length. All Cersei did was moan incoherently, she was still drowning in pleasure.

 

Ned fucked Cersei on her back, on the floor of the dark, dank cell, doing his best to keep her from noticing that Arthur was trying to unlock his shackles. She was certainly distracted. The shrieks and screams of pleasure that Ned ripped from her body echoed off the hard stone walls of the cell.

 

Cersei Lannister was getting the fucking she craved, the one she needed. Ned was holding both her wrists above her head with his one hand, leaving her completely open to him as he thrust inside her.

 

Cersei’s beautiful face was twisted in an expression of transcendent euphoria, her eyes rolling back into her head as her mouth hung open, a loud, low moan coming from within. The steady clapping of Ned’s balls against Cersei’s arse cheeks almost made him laugh. He used every inch of his cock to plough the depths of Cersei’s smooth, tight cunt. Her breasts bounced in time with his thrusts, her small pink nipples hardened with arousal.

 

Never being able to resist a perfect bosom like Cersei’s, Ned’s face dove down and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it hard, biting, licking. She moaned even louder in response, hooking her legs around Ned’s waist, trying to keep him deep inside her. He felt the wolf awake within him.

 

This was not the tender lovemaking Ned would have with his wives, or with his life long friends. This was fucking. Ned was using Cersei’s body to get himself off, to release the stress of recent events. He was using her. His flesh demanded satisfaction, and Cersei’s flesh was more than willing.

 

The wet slaps of his pelvis against hers became more and more frantic as Cersei moaned louder and louder. Were the air not thick with Dimeritium, Ned would have been tempted to change forms while fucking her.

 

It’s what she would have deserved.

 

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” She sang as she quivered around him, her skin felt red hot against his.

 

Ned could feel her arms struggling weakly against his hand, she hadn’t a hope of escaping his grasp, but it was gratifying to feel her trying. Ned conquered Cersei, fully and completely. Her body belonged to him. She was broken by his will.

 

“What a whore you are.” Ned growled into her ear when his mouth left her abused breast. “Is this how you like it? Getting fucked by your prisoner in a dirty cell?”

 

“Yes! I love it!” Cersei screamed. “Fuck your whore!”

 

“What do you plan to do?” Ned asked. “Will you keep coming down to our cell to get the ravaging you so desperately need? Or will you take me to your chambers?”

 

Cersei let out a long whine, “I’ll take you to my chambers and have you there.”

 

“What would Joffrey say to that?”

 

“Who?” Cersei asked breathlessly.

 

“Joffrey!” Ned repeated, laughing that she’d forgotten her own son. “Your son.”

 

“Oh…” She panted. “I don’t care what he says.” Ned laughed harder at that. Cersei had become so addled that she would defy her son.

 

He began to thrust harder again, letting go of her wrists, to rest his body on his elbow above her head. Her arms instantly wrapped around his torso, her fingernails digging into his back almost as deeply as Cat’s did.

 

Ned grunted, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. He thrust his throbbing shaft deeper than before. Cersei’s perfect, soft body rocked under him as he ploughed her like a field. She was not a short woman, but she still disappeared under his bulk like all others. His long, slow, forceful thrusts plunging deep into her Lannister cunt.

 

The thought of Tywin finding out Ned had fucked his sister and his daughter made him smirk. Ned knew it was unworthy of him to feel satisfaction about it, but after the Lannister’s actions, he could not bring himself to care.

 

Cersei gasped as the tip of Ned’s cock kissed the entrance to her womb. She was powerless to stop him, all she could do was shake uncontrollably in pleasure as her prisoner used her body for his own pleasure.

 

“I’m yours…” Cersei moaned pathetically, under Ned’s relentless thrusts. “The gods made me to please you, to be used by you…” Cersei’s head fell back into the sodden straw as she whined.

 

Ned felt her cunt clenching around his cock, milking him, begging for his seed in her womb. She was mostly catatonic as a result from Ned’s ministrations.

 

He looked back to check on Arthur, who was angrily trying to move the hair pin around in the lock of his shackles, but quietly. Ned knew he needed more time. He thrust deep into Cersei’s cunt again, making her jerk and scream.

 

The operatic symphony of her moans echoed through the cell and no doubt to others. Ned pressed her down and fucked her into the floor of his cell, his hand wrapping around her throat and tightening.

 

“You were made to please me.” Ned forced his meaty girth deep into Cersei’s cunt, splitting her walls in two.

 

She let out a breathless gasp as Ned cut off her air. The gasp became a long, low moan as she trembled under him. She eagerly thrust up her hips to meet his, urging him deeper within her, begging for him.

 

Ned leaned down and claimed her lips lips his own. She didn’t even think about resisting him, not even as she fought for breath. Her tongue darted forth to find his own, wanting to taste him, to lavish him, to love him. Ned pulled away from her, still holding her throat tightly.

 

They locked eyes. Ned saw hers were full of wanton desire. He squeezed her throat tighter. It was then she began to struggle, her face reddened, her eyes began to water, her hands started trying to pry his fingers away. But Ned would not budge. He held her down, thinking how his men had died as he ravaged her cunt like a crazed beast.

 

Then he saw it.

 

Fear.

 

He held her life in his hand and she knew it. It was then that Ned released his grip on her. Cersei was racked with the most powerful climax she’d ever experienced. Her cunt squeezed Ned’s cock tightly, it’s muscles massaging it, trying to bring it deeper. Her screams of bliss would have had sound if she had been able to breath at all.

 

Leaning back, Ned he watched Cersei’s explosive but silent climax send tremors the whole way through her body. Her breasts shaking back and forth pleasantly. Once the quivering subsided and all Cersei could do was moan softly, she leaned up to kiss Ned again, softly, lovingly.

 

Ned knew he was nearing his end, and it would be heralded by the melodic tones of a beautiful Queen screaming in pleasure. Her cunt was sopping wet, her cream coating Ned’s cock when he withdrew from her.

 

He watched Cersei’s pristine body quaking and quivering under his domineering thrusts. Her bosom bouncing in time with every their movements as they both thrust together. Ned plundered her cunt for all her worth. Cersei begged for his seed, with wanton moans, pleasing with him to fill her womb.

 

Eventually the strain became too much for Ned, with a mighty growl, he planted his cock deep within Cersei’s royal cunt and let forth a tidal wave of his seed. He held her beneath him for many moments, as rope after rope of his seed coated her inner walls. Ned was breeding her and she wanted to be bred.

 

When Ned’s seed was spent, he glanced back towards Arthur, still working away at his shackles. He needed more time. So Ned lifted Cersei from the floor, turned her around and pressed her into the cold stone wall he had been chained to.

 

In an instant, his cock was hard again, Stark stamina really was a blessing. With a grunt and a moan from Cersei, Ned took her from behind, pressing her face into the wall with his one hand. He drove his shaft into her from behind relentlessly, again and again.

 

Holding her head against the wall, Ned held her up as he ravaged her leaking cunt. He could feel her pleasure and his own flowing from her cunt, and dripping onto the floor. It was one of the most glorious cunts he had ever felt, wrapped snuggly around his achingly hard shaft.

 

The fleshy globes of Cersei’s delectable rear end provided excellent cushions for Ned’s thrusting. They bounced and wobbled pleasantly as his hips slapped against them, repeatedly.

 

Ned drew Cersei’s wanton screams from her hoarse throat with savage efficiency. Ned knew he had broken her already, now he was making sure she stayed that way.

 

“I love youuuu!” Cersei shrieked as Ned pummelled her cunt.

 

Ned thrust his cock in deep and held it, just touching the entrance to her womb. Cersei shivered against the cold stone wall, she could do nothing against him. Ned leaned forward, pressing his whole body against hers, his chest was to her back.

 

“Who do you belong to?” Ned growled into her ear.

 

“You!” Cersei wailed as Ned thrust deep and slow into her cunt.

 

“What was that?”

 

“YOU OWN ME!” Those words lit a fire in Ned’s chest. All sense of finesse was gone from his movements. He fucked her like an animal, plumbing her depths with his cock.

 

“What do you want me to do to you!?” Ned shouted in her ear.

 

“FUCK ME!” She answered, pressing her arse back to meet his thrusts. “PLEASE FUCK ME! FUCK ME!” Cersei, fully broken, ranted of her love for cock. “I LOVE YOU!! I’M YOUR WHORE! GIVE ME A BABE!! I’VE DREAMED ABOUT YOU SINCE THE FIRST NIGHT YOU TOOK ME! I LOVE YOUR COCK!”

 

Cersei’s wails were so loud, he almost didn’t hear Arthur’s chains falling limply against the wall with a clang. He looked around and saw Arthur smiling at him, unchained, with the hair pin in hand.

 

Ned turned around, keeping Cersei attached to his front. She was in such a state, she could not tell, or did not care Arthur had freed himself. The queen was bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she screamed.

 

“Perhaps you could make her quiet.” Ned laughed as Arthur loosened his breeches and fished his hardened cock out. He didn’t even need to grab Cersei’s head, she leaned forward and inhaled his cock as soon as she saw it.

 

“Gods, what did you do to her?” Arthur was astounded at how easily she accepted his cock.

 

“Whatever it was, she wants more.” Ned said, he held his arm out so Arthur could work at the shackle with the pin.

 

Cersei her arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist, pulling him deeper into her mouth. Ned could hear her gagging as she struggled to take it all, he decided to give her some help by thrusting harder into her cunt, pushing Cersei against Arthur.

 

“You’re the second woman we’ve done this to.” Arthur told Cersei as he twisted the pin in the lock. “And so far, Lyanna was much better.”

 

Ned had to agree, Lyanna was a very skilled lover. More benefits of being a Stark. Cersei paused for a moment at the sudden realisation, removed Arthur’s cock from her mouth and turned back to Ned, with an accusatory gaze.

 

“Targaryens have married into the Starks many times.” Ned said. It was true, there had been many Targaryen women to join house Stark over the years. Some of their offspring had taken to the Valyrian practices of incest. He and Lyanna had only began their relationship many years after their return from the rebellion. She had began learning to become a Witcher when she was eighteen and had already spent four years on the path before she and Ned had shared their first night together. It had been at his wives’ urging, Ned was sure they had just wanted to see him fucking a female version of himself, then join in. Ned remembered hearing a bawdy tale of how Jecaerya Stark, daughter of Jonnel and Daena, had made sure to take the maidenheads of each of her eleven younger brothers when they were old enough. “Lyanna will never have my children, or any other. What’s your excuse?”

 

Cersei said nothing, only turning back to Arthur’s cock, giving it a couple of long licks before she resumed sucking it. “Gods, what do they feed you up North?” Cersei moaned against Arthur’s cock.

 

“I’m Dornish.” Arthur corrected her.

 

“Still… This must be ten inches at least…”

 

“Ten and a half,” Arthur corrected her. “Lyanna measured it one night.”

 

“If not for Ned, I would say you were the largest i’ve ever had.” Cersei began moaning more deeply as Ned fucked her harder.

 

“What a whore you are.” Arthur laughed. “Had many, have you?”

 

“Theon Greyjoy, Ser Mandon, Ser Meryn…” Cersei began to list her lovers as she licked Arthur’s cock, her words become more and more fervent. It seemed that Cersei enjoyed revealing in her many infidelities. “I’ve even allowed Pycelle to watch me bathe when he brings me useful information…” The image was not something Ned would treasure. “Lancel… and Joffrey!”

 

Both Ned and Arthur froze in place, Cersei continued to move between them. A thousand thoughts and none, went through Ned’s mind at once.

 

…

 

…Joffrey?

 

…

 

“What!!?” They both shouted together.

 

“He’s mine!” Cersei said. “My own. He is loyal to me!” She began to explain. “Theon told me he was taking Joff to a brothel so he could have a woman. That night, I went to his chambers… I was his first. No other woman shall hold power over him like I do.”

 

It was foul. Ned wanted it to be over, so he could escape from this madness. The telltale click from Ned’s shackle told him it was unlocked, but only when it fell from Ned’s outstretched wrist did he realise it.

 

“Maybe no more talking…” Arthur said slowly as he moved his cock back into Cersei’s mouth. Arthur and Ned made a silent agreement: Tell no one of it, finish with Cersei, then run.

 

So, like a hog on a spit, they held Cersei up and pierced her at both ends.

 

Like a field with only two inexperienced farmers to till the land, Cersei was over-ploughed.

 

If it was from Arthur not letting her get enough air, or from pleasure, Ned could not tell for which reason she passed out. But they both held her up, until Arthur shot his seed down her throat and Ned filled her womb.

 

They left Cersei naked, in a heap on some soiled straw, her hands chained to the wall. Arthur went to work on unlocking the door as Ned burned Cersei’s dress with the torch and in an uncharacteristically mean-spirited event, pissed on her where she sat, unconscious.

 

She had wanted to be degraded, there was little more humiliation than being chained, naked and soiled, Ned knew that from experience.

 

Soon enough, Arthur managed to unlock the door, they slammed it shut behind them and ran up the stairs leading to the rest of the keep. They were both less steady than they should have been, after days rotting in the cells. Eventually, the two of them came upon four Golden Legionnaires, Cersei’s guards, their golden swords in hand.

 

“Fuck.” Arthur said, clutching Cersei’s sharp hair pin in his hand. Ned made to form himself a blade of ice until he heard something.

 

“Where is the Queen?” One of them raised his sword at Ned. He took a step forward, then the whole keep shook violently, making all six of them stumble. Ned could hear the sound of stone walls being broken down, getting closer and closer.

 

Some days, the Gods did give.

 

The wall to the left of the four confused Lannister men exploded, sending chunks of broken rock in all directions. A flash of lightning and the sound of rending metal later, the smoke cleared, revealing a war hammer with a short handle killed the four men. It was sitting on a step, arcs of lightning curling around it. Ned had seen it before, many times.

 

“Stannis, here already?” Arthur asked, surprised.

 

“No.” Ned smiled and reached out.

 

Foesmasher flew to his hand and Ned felt the full power of the storm kings of old flowing through him. Thunder rumbled overhead as wind swirled around him. Not since Artos Stark had the hammer deemed someone worthy enough to wield it. He had always wondered if he was worthy, today he received his answer.

 

“So you knew the hammer was coming the whole time?” Arthur’s exasperation was evident.

 

“Well, I couldn’t know for sure.” Ned admitted. “It was a game of long odds.” They both heard the sounds of men shouting through the keep. All would have felt or seen the disturbance.

 

“We might have managed to get out quietly if that hadn’t arrived.” Arthur stepped over the remains of the Lannister men, Ned following him.

 

“Perhaps.” Ned said. “Or those four might have killed us without a weapon. Still, at least we have a way of freeing Ice now.” He smiled as they reached the top of the stairs. They opened the door to find themselves at the junction of three corridors. “Which way?” Ned asked, Arthur had more experience in the Red Keep than he did.

 

“Right.” Arthur said, after considering his options and right they went. Freedom was in their grasp.

 

Ned’s heart was thundering in his chest as he and Arthur raced down the corridor. All too aware of his nudity as they turned a corner. In his wildest dreams, Ned would not have been able to imagine himself running naked through the Red Keep with Foesmasher in hand and Arthur running beside him. The absurdity of the situation almost made him laugh.

 

“Are we running out, or further in?” Ned asked, looking through the corridor windows to try and gauge where they were. From the sun’s position, he guessed evening was drawing near.

 

“I’d have thought ‘Away from the guards’ would be enough for now.” Arthur nearly laughed.

 

The pair rounded another corner and skidded to a halt, before them stood Ser Barristan Selmy, suited in the pure white plate of the King’s Guard. There was silence as Barristan looked at the two of them, and they looked at him. They were both unarmoured, while Ned held Foesmasher in his fist, Arthur held Cersei’s hair pin. Barristan did not have his helm, but on his hip, Ned could see something that made his blood boil with rage. He would recognise a blade belonging to the Winter Wolves anywhere.

 

“Did you take that off the corpse of one of my men?” Ned growled.

 

Barristan had the sense to look shameful. “I… We were ordered to take them by the king.” He said. “I admit, I have never held a finer blade in all my years.”

 

“Let us pass.” Arthur’s voice cut clear and true as he made to walk past the armoured sentinel.

 

Barristan blocked their way, putting a hand on the pommel of the sword. “You are a prisoner of the crown.” The confusion and doubt on his face was plain to see.

 

“The Lannisters have stolen the crown!” Ned shouted, perhaps unwisely.

 

“The king did not father any of Cersei’s children.” Arthur added. “You must see it.”

 

Barristan only gritted his teeth. “I have a duty…”

 

“Oh, our sacred duty.” Arthur scowled. “We stood by and let Aerys rape his wife because ’It was our duty’! We let Rhaegar abduct Lyanna because ‘It was our duty’!” Arthur pointed to Ned. “As his father and brother were tortured to death before our eyes, we did nothing!” Arthur huffed. “…Because ‘It was our duty’…” he sighed. “It seems to me, we’ve used ‘duty’ as a paper shield to protect us from the truth: We are simply cowards. Cowards who would let ‘duty’ prevent us from doing the right thing.” He put a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “He’s willing to die to do the right thing… Why aren’t you?”

 

Barristan looked away as he gritted his teeth. A few moments later, he sighed and stepped aside, unclasping his sword belt. He held the sword out to Ned with a mournful look in his eye. “I am truly sorry about your men, Stark… The all fought bravely.” As Ned only had one hand, Arthur accepted the Uru blade.

 

“Come with us.” Ned told him.

 

“No…”

 

“You know your life may well be forfeit if you stay.”

 

Barristan gave a small nod. “Then it is forfeit.”

 

“When I asked you if you were willing to die, to do the right thing. This isn’t what I meant.” Arthur cut in. “Just because you do a right thing, it doesn’t mean you then have to die. If at-all possible, you should stay alive while doing the right thing-“

 

“Arthur, “ Ned interrupted him. “We don’t have the time.” He pulled Arthur along, and together they ran off again, further into the Red Keep. The could hear shouts and the clanging of armoured boots hitting the stone floors of the castle. Guards were searching for them.

 

Arthur quickly pulled Ned into an alcove. “We can’t keep running without a plan.” He said. “And if I have to see your cock flapping around for another moment, I may go mad.”

 

“We need clothes then.” Ned agreed. “What of the Armoury? We can hide there and arm ourselves.”

 

“Good thinking.”

 

As Arthur knew the way better than Ned, he took the lead. They stealthily made their way to the door of the Armoury, forcing it open and shutting it behind them. Ned could not sense anyone else in the armoury, so they knew they were safe, at least for the time being. There were racks and tables all lined with swords, shields, an polished plate armour.

 

“As I recall, they keep the best steel in the top room.” Arthur informed Ned. “With luck, we can garb ourselves in Lannister armour and just walk out of the Red Keep.”

 

They walked up the wooden steps in tentative silence, avoiding the windows. Neither wished to have to fight their way out of the Red Keep. At the top of the stairs stood a large wooden door with steel plates on it, and an old lock.

 

However, Ned had found in his life that a strong kick worked as well as any key. When they entered the room, Ned became so full of rage that he thought he might burst, but he was a Stark of Winterfell. He smothered his rage in icy chill.

 

“We were ordered to take them by the king.” Barristan said…

 

Like on the other floors, there were tables and racks with weapons and armour lining them. However, unlike the other rooms, the weapons and armour all belonged to Ned’s men, the Winter Wolves that had died defending him and his daughters.

 

Uru was rare below the Neck, especially Black Uru. Many times Tywin had sent Ned ravens offering mountains of good in exchange for the secret to forging Uru, and many times Ned had declined him. The number of houses who had been gifted Uru over the years could be counted on one hand.

 

Of course Joffrey and Cersei had wanted to take all the Uru they could scavenge from his men. Ned imagined if the Ice Guard’s weapons and armour didn’t melt when their owner died, he would find it piled up there too.

 

There were nearly two dozen sets of Uru plate hanging on armour stands, with their accompanying weapons and shields. Ned walked over to a large wooden trunk, opening it, he found many pairs of breeches, shirts and boots, he began to put them on quickly.

 

“Everything here will be recovered.” Ned vowed, once he was dressed. Arthur produced two gambesons from another chest and handed one to Ned. “For now, we’ll make do with carrying what we can.” It was difficult for Ned to don the Winter Wolf armour with only one hand. Arthur had to help him after he had successfully armoured himself before Ned. “The likelihood of not being seen was small anyway.” Ned jangled his armour, before summoning Foesmasher to his hand from where he had placed it on the floor.

 

Ned lifted his head, seeing that Arthur was walking towards the end of the room, towards a long chest that sat on a table by the wall, a chest that had a three-headed dragon embossed on the top. Reaching inside the chest, Arthur pulled out a long, slender sword, a sword Ned recognised.

 

“Darksister…” Arthur said reverently as he drew the Valyrian Steel sword from it’s scabbard. “It’ll make a fine gift for Rhaenys.” Arthur chuckled, before sheathing the sword and putting it into his belt.

 

“We can go through the passage Littlefinger showed me.” Ned said as they walked down the steps of the armoury together. “Once we get out of the castle, wait until nightfall, then make our way to Chataya’s. From there, we plan our way out of the city.” Ned explained his plan.

 

“A sound plan.” Arthur said. “But the passage is on the other side of the Red Keep, we’ll need to be quick.”

 

“We’ll need to get Ice first.”

 

“Ned…”

 

“I will not leave my father’s sword in this place.”

 

Arthur sighed. “Almost certain death storming the throne room then?”

 

“We’ll be alright.” Ned said, spinning Foesmasher in his hand as it sparked lightning. They carefully left the armoury, checking the corridor before they dashed out. It didn’t take them long to get to one of the side doors to the throne room. Ned stood guard as Arthur cracked the door open, to peek inside the throne room. “What do you see?”

 

“A couple dozen guards, and a King’s Guard. He’s standing over Ice.” Arthur answered. “No courtiers though, so at least we won’t have to worry about killing somebody we shouldn’t.” Ned tightened his grip on his hammer and Arthur braised himself against the door. Both were ready. “This is an incredibly stupid thing we are about to do.” Arthur chuckled to himself. He was right, but Ned didn’t care.

 

“Good luck.” Ned said.

 

“To you too. Let’s hope you hit the King’s Guard on the first try.” Arthur kicked open the door and dashed through, Ned followed closely behind him.

 

Arthur engaged the closest three men, with Darksister in one hand and his Uru blade in the other. Ned threw Foesmasher so hard, he heard a massive boom emanating from the hammer, that deafened all around it and shattered the stained glass pains of the throne room’s windows.

 

It flew straight as an arrow towards the King’s Guard in his pure white armour. He was reeling from the deafening noise so much that he didn’t know what was coming until the hammer struck him in the side. The knight hit the wall on the other side of the throne room with a sickening crunch as his body crumpled and the stone wall cracked around the impact.

 

Ned heard a man charging him from behind, so he froze the man’s feet to the floor and summoned his hammer, sending it straight through the man’s chest. A second man was brave enough to face Ned, swinging his sword wildly. Ned ducked under the first slash and created a pillar of ice that sprung up from the ground and struck the man squarely in the chest, caving it in as the man flew back.

 

Arthur fought the men that weren’t running from the pair as Ned raised the hammer high and brought it down on the golden shield that trapped Ice. Ned felt the shockwaves of the blow rattle him to his bones, he lifted the hammer high and brought it down again. The ward shield flashed and pulsated under the impact, lightning sparked along Foesmasher. With the third blow came a massive explosion that knocked Ned back several feet. He was glad to be clad head to toe in Uru when his hit the stone floor.

 

As Ned got to his feet, Arthur dispatched the last of the Lannister men with skill and grace as the smoke cleared around Ice. Ned smiled at his family sword as it floated before him. Then he cursed Pycelle from removing his hand so he could not hold Ice and Foesmasher together.

 

The tall doors of the throne room’s main entrance opened as a few dozen Golden Legionnaires poured into the room. Arthur readied himself for a fight, but Ned held out his arm and stopped him. “Allow me.”

 

Though Ned did not have a hand to hold Ice, that did not mean he could not use it. He had been the sword’s owner for more than twenty years. In that time, he had learned that a Stark did not need a hand to wield Ice.

 

The sword knew his intentions in an instant. Quicker than a thunder bolt, it went spinning into the group of men, cutting them down like dry barley. Ned and Arthur watched as Ice despatched twenty men with ease in a matter of moments.

 

“Gods…” Arthur swore as they stepped over the remains of the men. “I didn’t know it could do that…”

 

“There are lots of things about you don’t know about Ice…” Ned responded, grimly. “Let’s move.”

 

The pair dashed out of the throne room through the main door, down a long corridor with Ice floating behind Ned. Hearing guards coming the other way, Ned lead Arthur to a courtyard outside of Maegor’s holdfast. With their pursuers on their heels, Ned and Arthur quickly crossed the drawbridge leading to the massive square keep.

 

“Running further in will make it more difficult to escape.” Arthur said as he ran beside Ned.

 

“We can’t fight all of them.” Ned grunted as he and Arthur ran through a door before he slammed it behind them.

 

Running through Maegor’s holdfast was bringing back uncomfortable memories for Ned. Memories of Gregor Clegane, his son’s blood and Elia’s scream of anguish and pain. Ned was driven by instinct, running from the sound of armoured boots, blocking every door behind him and Arthur.

 

After creating a wall of ice to block the last door he and Arthur burst through, Ned ran into a short blonde woman, knocking her to the ground in his haste.

 

“Prince Stark!?” The young woman spluttered in surprise when she looked up from the floor. Ned recognised her in an instant, she was the princess Myrcella, Cersei’s daughter. Ned and Arthur froze where they stood, unsure of what to do. Should they run? Should they help her? Take her as a hostage? “Why are you-“ Myrcella was cut off when they heard banging from the other side of the door. Ned and Arthur whirled around, weapons raised, ready to kill the men as they broke down the door. “Come with me, if you want to live.” They heard behind them.

 

Myrcella had opened a door and was gesturing for them to follow her. Ned glanced at Arthur, before they followed her in. They walked into a lavish bedchamber, that Ned imagined belonged to the princess. We must have run all the way to the royal apartments,  Ned mused.

 

“Why are you helping us?” Arthur asked in a low voice as Myrcella closed the door behind them.

 

“No time.” Myrcella answered as they heard the blocked door in the corridor being broken down. “Hide behind those dividers.” She waved in the direction of some finely painted wooden dividers standing by the wall.

 

Neither said a word as they quickly hid behind the cover, Ice floated closely behind Ned, hiding behind him. Peaking into the rest of the room through a hole in the divider, to his shock, Ned could see the princess was undressing. Had Ned not been recently running for his life, he might have enjoyed the view.

 

Once she was fully nude, but for an emerald necklace, she threw her dress over to the other side of the bed, lay down on her back and began to pleasure herself. Ned began to feel certain that he hadn’t escaped and this was all some strange dream he was having as he lay in the Black Cells. Moments after she began moaning softly, four armoured men burst through the door with swords in hand.

 

Myrcella shrieked and partially covered herself with a blanket. “GET OUT!” She screamed.

 

“Begging you pardon, princess.” The first man bowed sheepishly, as the men lowered their swords and looked away in embarrassment. “We was chasing some prisoners-“

 

“AND YOU THINK YOU’LL FIND THEM IN HERE!” She interrupted them, standing from the bed, making the men retreat towards the door. “I BELIEVE I WOULD HAVE NOTICED IF THEY WERE!”

 

“We’re r-r-really very sorry, p-p-princess.” A second man managed to stammer out.

 

“Leave now!” Myrcella ordered in a fury, Ned began to question if Robert really hadn’t fathered her. “Or I will tell my mother of this, and she will take your eyes!”

 

The men beat a hasty and apologetic retreat at the mention of the queen. A moment after they had closed the door, Myrcella let out a small giggle, dropped the blanket and sauntered over to the door, locking it. Then she went to Arthur and Ned’s position behind the dividers.

 

Ned was reminded of Tyene when he saw Myrcella’s full figured body bared before him. He was still surprised at her apparent lack of shame.

 

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen that done before.” Arthur laughed as he came out from behind the divider.

 

“I’ve often found that a confused and embarrassed man is an obedient one.” Myrcella smiled as she shrugged into a robe.

 

“Why did you help us?” Ned asked. He was certainly grateful for it, but he could not make sense of it.

 

Myrcella bit her lower lip apprehensively as her elegant fingers played with her gold and emerald necklace. “You could say I felt a certain obligation to…” She removed her necklace, “As your Good-daughter…” before Ned could process her words, her belly began to shimmer and change, as if an illusion had just been dispelled, revealing the bump of her belly.

 

A babe…

 

It was then that Ned understood… and sighed heavily.

 

All Arthur did was bend over and laugh, unhelpfully.

 

The reason for the princesses lack of attendance at court became clear. Ned was unsure what he was feeling from one moment to the next: Annoyance beyond belief that one or both of his oldest sons had disobeyed his express command, thankful that they had so Myrcella would be willing to help, confusion at how she referred to herself as his good-daughter, irritated that he would then need to get her out of the Red Keep, making it that much harder a task.

 

Last of all came joy. He was to be a grandsire, but from another woman.

 

Ned hoped that he would live to see more. He found a jug of wine and didn’t even bother with a glass. It certainly tasted better than anything he’d had recently.

 

“Which of my sons fathered the babe?” He asked as he turned back to Myrcella, though looking away, as the knowledge that she had lain with his sons ruined his enjoyment at the sight of her.

 

“Umm… I’m… not sure?”

 

“So, it was both of my oldest sons you bedded?”

 

Myrcella blushed and smiled. “Yes…”

 

“You called yourself my good-daughter…”

 

“Jon and I married when he took my maidenhead before the heart tree in Winterfell’s godswood.”

 

Ned grunted in acknowledgment. That ritual technically only counted as a true marriage when there were witnesses to the event. They would have to have been made husband and wife in the sight of Gods and men together.

 

Ned remembered when he had completed the ritual with Ash and Cat. They had both demanded to be wed to him in the fashion of the old Kings of Winter after Lyanna had told them of it.

 

Deep in the heart of the wolfswood, he had taken Ash and Cat on-top of a stone table under a massive weirwood tree, as over a hundred people had watched their consummation, cheering. Ned was more than sure they had made Arya and Alyrianne during that ritual.

 

“Please take me with you…” Myrcella’s words drew Ned from his thoughts. “I think my mother is going to marry me to Theon Greyjoy…”

 

“Why?” Ned asked.

 

“I saw them together.” She answered him.

 

“…You mean?”

 

“Coupling.” Myrcella seemed revolted by the word. “I saw them in the royal bathhouses. Theon said he wanted me, that he should wed me so he could have us both. My mother agreed…”

 

“Have no fear princess.” Arthur said. “We’ll take care of you.”

 

“You are family now, after all.” Ned agreed. “Why did you marry my son?”

 

Myrcella seemed to light up. “He treated me well. He was charming, intelligent, handsome, kind… He’s nothing like Theon at all.” She laughed. “In the cruel world we live in, I could do much worse for a husband.”

 

“Like Theon.” Arthur chuckled.

 

“Exactly!” She paused for a moment. “And I certainly wouldn’t mind hopping into bed with Val and Ygritte again.”

 

“You will need to be dressed.” Ned told her, moving swiftly on. “Preferably in something that doesn’t make you look a princess, if you have it.”

 

“I have one question.” Myrcella said, before Ned turned.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“They say you said Joffrey wasn’t father’s son…” She said, slowly. “He isn’t, is he? None of us are.”

 

Ned went from unsure if her should reveal the truth to Myrcella, to very confused. “You know?”

 

Myrcella nodded, a small tear in her eye. “I think a part of me always did…” There was an awkward pause. “We can discuss this later, if you would prefer.”

 

Ned’s heart throbbed for the girl, finding out the truth of her parentage was a hard thing for her to bear.“That would probably be best.”

 

Ned and Arthur went to the other side of the room to give her some privacy to change. Ned peered out of one of her windows, to survey the route to the secret path out of the Red Keep. What he saw instead made his blood run cold. Cersei had told him what they did to his men, seeing it was another matter. Near three dozen heads on spikes lining the dry moat of the holdfast, above them all was the white feathered head of his great eagle, Snowflake.

 

They must have fished his body out of the blackwater.

 

“They were mine.” Ned said in a quiet voice. “They were loyal, and they killed them…”

 

“They didn’t deserve to be quartered like… Criminals…” Arthur said beside him, near equally angry.

 

“We have to retrieve them-”

 

“We can’t.” Arthur said, firmly. “We cannot escort the princess, retrieve the heads of our men and escape all together. They would not want us to die for their remains.”

 

Ned knew he was right, that did not dull the bitter taste in his mouth. “Their names will be etched in stone when we return to Winterfell.” He vowed.

 

“I’m ready.” They both heard Myrcella behind them. Ned turned to see her dressed as a page, the only thing denoting her class was her golden necklace. He briefly wondered where she had received the disguise from, but decided it did not matter.

 

“You’ll need to lose the necklace.” Ned told her.

 

“It’s how I cover my… condition.” Myrcella responded.

 

“Your clothes are lose enough that no one will be able to tell.” Arthur said. The princess relented and removed her necklace. “I know a passage out of the Red Keep.” She informed them, walking over to a row of sconces on a wall.

 

“What?” Ned was shocked as Myrcella pulled on the third sconce from the right. He heard a small click from the hearth beside Myrcella, she leaned down and pushed the back of it open, revealing a secret passage.

 

Perhaps Maegor’s secret passages are not lost after all…

 

“How did you find that?” Arthur asked in astonishment as he and Ned ducked through the small door in the hearth.

 

“When I was fourteen, I read in a book that had a sconce being used to open a secret passage.” Myrcella answered as she walked ahead of them down a thin, dark corridor. “I’d heard the rumours of secret passages in the Red Keep. So I searched through all of the rooms in the royal apartments, pulling on every sconce I could find until I found this passageway. Then I demanded that this room became mine.”

 

“Why did you want a secret passageway to your room?” Ned asked as he treaded carefully behind her, lighting the way with Foesmasher as it glowed blue. Ice still floating behind him.

 

“I defy any child to not be excited by the prospect of secret passages to places unknown.” She turned with a smile on her face. Ned was reminded that she was a girl of eighteen. “I’ve used it to sneak into the city a few times…”

 

“It can be dangerous for a girl alone.” Arthur said.

 

“I’m always careful.” She protested.

 

“So it’s possible to leave the Red Keep through this passage?” Ned asked Myrcella as she guided them.

 

“Oh yes.” The princess answered. “We follow this passage to the end, where we’ll find a ladder leading us down.” She explained. “Then it’s three-hundred steps before we turn right, ninety-seven steps before we take a left turn, then another four-hundred until we reach a ladder that will take us into a small stable near the street of silk.”

 

“That’ll be useful.” Arthur’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “From there we can get to Chataya’s simple enough.”

 

“If she’s still there.” Ned answered, grimly. If fortune treated them as she had recently, Chataya would have either fled or been arrested. Ned hoped neither had happened.

 

Myrcella’s measurements had been accurate to the step. She lead them through the cold, damp tunnel with practiced ease. Ned felt it to be very similar to the catacombs beneath Winterfell. He sent off a silent prayer to the Gods, that they would grant them success.

 

Arthur was the first up the ladder, he lifted the heavy stone grate that separated them from their freedom. In moments all three of them were standing in the empty stables. Ned took deep breaths of the free air, thanking the Gods as he looked up into the night sky. From what they could see, the streets were deserted. Cersei had almost certainly ordered a curfew.

 

“We have my sword.” Ned nodded to Ice as it floated beside him. “Now for yours.” He told Arthur.

 

With a command to Foesmasher, Ned threw his hammer into the sky, to find Dawn. The Hammer would seek out the sword and destroy the wards preventing Arthur from calling it.

 

With a rumble of thunder and a mighty crack of lightning, Ned assumed the hammer had found it’s mark. A notion confirmed by Arthur’s smile. They recalled their weapons together.

 

“Won’t they follow the sword?” Myrcella asked as all three crept out of the stable.

 

“It was far enough away that they’d have no idea where it went.” Arthur assured her.

 

The trio kept to the shadows as they made their way across the hill towards Chataya’s. Even in the dim moonlight, Ned could see the ruined buildings from when his daughters escaped. He had been warging Snowflake at the time, he had seen his and Sansa’s dragons rampaging through the streets, destroying homes in their wake.

 

A swell of regret bubbled up from within Ned, he squashed it down quickly, however. The destruction was regrettable, but it had saved his daughter’s lives.

 

“Snowsong certainly didn’t take any prisoners.” Ned heard Arthur say behind him, clearly he had been looking at the ruined structures too.

 

“That wasn’t Snowsong.” Myrcella piped up. “Somehow Stormbreaker got loose too, he rampaged through the city and broke the Mud Gate on his way out.”

 

Ned was astounded. “Stormbreaker escaped?” He had seen Robert’s dragon as frail and weak, he couldn’t have imagined it would ever fly again.

 

“He was last seen flying south.” Myrcella added.

 

The thought gave Ned some comfort. At least your mount is going home, Robert.

 

Thankfully no one had seen them when they made their way to the back of Chataya’s establishment. Tall buildings stood imposingly all around them as the trio hid in a back alley. Light was streaming from the brothel windows, as music and laughter came from within.

 

“Seems Chataya’s is open for business.” Ned said, using magic to open the backdoor of the brothel.

 

“Let us hope that Chataya is still there.” Arthur followed him in, his hand on Darksister’s pommel.

 

Ned followed Alayaya’s familiar smell through the corridors and back rooms of the brothel. They came across no one. It was likely they were walking through areas the clientele were not allowed. From the looking glasses, dresses and face paints haphazardly strewn about, Ned gathered that these backrooms were where the workers went to freshen up after a client.

 

Eventually, they found Alayaya washing herself in a large brass tub. She didn’t even turn when she heard the door open behind her.

 

“I don’t care how much Lord Argett offers,” She said, dismissively. “He might fuck like a man a third his age, but he’s old enough to be my grandfather. I am not going to marry him.”

 

“Well I’m certainly glad to hear that.” Ned said as he walked into the room.

 

“Ned!?” Alayaya sprang up from the water in surprise, stumbled out of the tub and over to Ned, taking him in her arms. She was clearly unashamed by her nudity. “We heard word that you’d been taken prisoner-“

 

“It’s a long story.” Ned interrupted her, tiredly. “The Lannisters haven’t come here have they? I need to see your mother.”

 

“Right this way.” Alayaya scampered nudely to the other side of the room, revealing a hidden door that opened to a flight of stairs. She lead them up the narrow staircase, her bouncing, bare behind at Ned’s eye level as they talked. “They haven’t come for us yet, but mother and I were thinking of leaving King’s Landing anyway.”

 

“It is likely that the queen knows your mother gave me information. If she doesn’t, Varys does. It will not be safe here.” Ned agreed with her. “You would all be welcome in the Winter City.”

 

“A new city and close proximity to you.” Alayaya laughed. “How could we refuse?”

 

Eventually they got to the top of the stairs, Alayaya lead them through a door into a large, well decorative room where Chataya sat at a desk, pouring over ledgers as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of her.

 

“We have visitors, mother.” Alayaya said in a melodic tone.

 

Chataya looked up from her papers, her face changed from confusion to joy when she saw them. “The Gods are good.” She rose from her chair. “You must tell us all.” She indicated to a group of cushioned chairs sitting in a circle in the centre of the room.

 

When they were all sat, Ned informed her of everything that had happened, from Cersei’s reveal, to Robert’s death, his imprisonment and subsequent escape.

 

“You really made off with the princess?” Chataya was astounded.

 

“Yes.” Myrcella answered for Ned.

 

The madame slowly nodded, pondering her next words. “It seems we must leave the city.”

 

“With others.” Ned said. “Robert’s bastard children will not be safe, we must take them with us.” Thoughts of the Mountain and Lorch went through Ned’s mind. “Barra and her mother, Gendry too. Do you know of any others?” He asked Chataya.

 

“I know others exist, but where? No.” Chataya answered.

 

“Then we must save who we can.” Ned stated, grimly.

 

Chataya turned to her daughter, who sat unashamedly nude beside her mother. “Find Lissy and tell her to bring her daughter up here.” She said. “Then find Marei and tell her to go to Tobho Mott’s shop. She must bring his apprentice, Gendry here.”

 

“She should tell Tobho Mott I sent her.” Ned added. “That I can protect the boy and his siblings from his father’s wife.” Alayaya nodded then left.

 

It didn’t long for Lissy to arrive, they explained that it was no longer safe for her in King’s Landing and that they would take her away. Chataya took her to another secret room where she could stay for the night.

 

“I didn’t know you had secret rooms.” Ned told Chataya when she returned, making conversation as they waited.

 

“These rooms hold an important place in history.” She smiled as she sat down again.

 

“Oh?” Myrcella asked.

 

“These are the rooms where Aegor Rivers convinced his brother Daemon to claim his brother’s crown.”

 

“The Blackfyre rebellion started in this room?” Arthur was surprised.

 

Ned was incredulous. “I find it difficult to believe that they would have planned to overthrow their king in a brothel.”

 

“It wasn’t a brothel back then.” Chataya smiled over her wine glass as she took a sip. “This is one of the town houses that the Unworthy gifted Aegor.” They talked more about the Blackfyre rebellions and how Chataya had come into the possession of the brothel.

 

Eventually, a still naked Alayaya and a woman who Ned thought bore a striking resemblance to Cersei brought in Gendry. From the look on Myrcella’s face, she was thinking the same thing Ned was.

 

“Lord Hand.” Gendry said as he sleepily bowed when he saw Ned. From the looks of it, he had been woken from a restful sleep before he was dragged across the city.

 

“I’m not the Hand anymore, Gendry.” Ned said as he rose from his seat and walked over to him. “But I am still a Prince. I will protect you from those who would do you harm. That means you must leave the city.”

 

“Who would want to hurt me?” Gendry asked, he was young. Older than Arya and Alyrianne, but not quite as old as Sansa, maybe.

 

It was best to get it done quickly. “Your father was Robert Baratheon.” A stunned silence came over Gendry. “Which is more than I can say for our current king. The Lannisters will want to remove those who have a better claim to the throne. That’s you,” Ned pointed at Gendry “and your father’s other bastards.”

 

“I… I…”

 

“Your father was a brother to me.” Ned continued. “I will take you to the Winter City with me, if you agree, and give you a place in my house. If you wish to remain a smith, I’ll have you apprenticed to the finest smiths in the North. If you wish to become a knight, I imagine Ser Arthur Dayne will happily take you on as his squire.” Ned nodded back to Arthur.

 

“…I… I don’t know…” Gendry said in response. Ned pitied the lad, he’d just been told his whole world was about to change. Giving him time to adjust would be no crime.

 

“Sleep on it.” Ned advised him, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

Chataya spoke next. “Marei take Gendry and find him a bed. Make sure he’s well looked after.”

 

The blonde whore, Marei, smiled and touched Gendry’s shoulder. “Come, I will find you a warm bed.” She smiled, leading him from the room.

 

“Who was that woman’s father?” Myrcella quickly asked after the door had closed. Chataya turned to her in surprise.

 

“If she has no Lannister blood, then snow’s not cold and wet.” Ned added.

 

“She was fathered by Tywin Lannister during his tenure as Hand.” Chataya admitted. “As far as I know, they’ve never even seen each other.”

 

Ned could almost laugh at the prospect of Tywin Lannister having bastards. “Does he have more?”

 

“I would not doubt it. How ever many there are, he cares not a whit for them.”

 

“On that note, I think it’s time we all got some rest.” Arthur said, standing from his seat.

 

“Alayaya, take Ser Arthur and the Princess to some beds.” She turned to Ned. “The Prince can sleep here tonight.” Alayaya giggled and did as she was bid. When they were alone, Chataya shimmied out of her silk dress, before picking it up and leaving it in a large wooden chest. “I’m glad you managed to escape.” She scampered nudely over to Ned, pressing her lips to his.

 

She walked him backwards towards the bed, pushing him down onto it. Ned helped her remove his shirt and breeches, he’d removed his armour some time ago. Until he sat naked before her.

 

Chataya’s eyes filled with pity when she gazed at the stump where his left arm had been. “I’m so sorry, Ned.”

 

“This was not of your doing.” Ned told her, trying to assuage her guilt.

 

“If I had not sent for you, you would have left King’s Landing a long time ago. Your men would not have died and you would be whole.”

 

Ned stopped her, pulling her in for a kiss. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

 

“You are kind with your words.” Chataya smiled down at Ned. “Though I think you will need a wash before we go to bed.”

 

“You’re probably right.” Ned chuckled. After days without washing, Ned imagined the smell wasn’t pleasant.

 

Chataya drew him a bath in a large brass tub that sat in the corner of the room. She washed him with soapy water and a wet rag, before trimming his beard and washing his hair.

 

Once Ned no longer looked like he had just spent many days in a dank, dark cell, he rose from the water, taking Chataya with him. He walked back over to the bed and sat down. Chataya set herself down on her knees, between his legs.

 

For a few moments, Chataya looked at his freshly cleaned and hardening member in awe. Many times had that shaft reduced her to a quivering wreck, and it would do so again. She reached up and her long, dark fingers curled around his base. They didn’t reach the whole way around. Then came her other hand.

 

Ned hummed lightly as his cock throbbed in Chataya’s grasp. The pressure she was putting on him was a welcome relief, and a teasing promise of the pleasure yet to come. Slowly, she moved her hands up and down the length of Ned’s shaft. Even both her hands together only covered just over half of it.

 

“I think it’s time you moved on to more… effective techniques.” Ned urged her. “As I fear my lusts might overtake me and I throw you onto the bed so I might have my way with you.”

 

“That sounds delightful.” Chataya smiled, warmly. She then angled his cock head to her plump lips, laying delicate kisses around it, her hands still pumping his shaft.

 

The brothel madame’s skill was evident, as she expertly pumped his shaft with her lips sealed around his cock head, sucking gently. Chataya looked up to Ned with her big, dark eyes, while slowly bobbing her mouth up and down his member.

 

The salacious sounds on her sucking his cock filled the room. Only the first few inches of his cock were taken into her throat to begin with. Ned knew she needed to warm up before taking him fully.

 

Up and down her head went, the hum of her moans vibrating around Ned’s cock pleasantly. Eventually, she began to speed up. Ned could tell her arousal was heightening and she needed more.

 

One of Chataya’s hands left his cock and found her cunt lips. The sight of the beautiful woman playing with herself as she sucked his cock nearly made and end of Ned, but he pushed on.

 

“You look so beautiful with my cock in you mouth.” Ned laughed as he put his hand through her dark, curly tresses.

 

Chataya’s eyes were wide and watery as she pushed more of his cock into her mouth, taking him deeper down her throat. Ned stroked her head as the familiar sensations of having her tight throat wrapped around his member enveloped him.

 

Taking a firm grip of Chataya’s hair, Ned began to pull her deeper onto his cock. Her other hand left his cock, so she could steady herself. Ned motioned her head up and down his shaft with swift strokes. The obscene gagging sounds were now echoing throughout the room as Ned used Chataya’s mouth to pleasure himself.

 

She was his lover, she wanted to bring him satisfaction.

 

Chataya diligently sucked away as she gagged around his cock. Her lips stretched around him, trying to keep him from spilling free. He didn’t even let her come up for air, his need was so fervent. Chataya needed to make do with panting through her nose.

 

The combination of the pressure on his cock and the sight of Chataya submitting to him was maddening. Ned had thrust his cock as deep into her mouth as it would go, her lips were sealed around the base of his cock as she struggled for air, when they heard a voice.

 

“You greedy slut! You started without me!” Ned looked up to see Alayaya standing naked by the door with her hand on her hip. He let go of Chataya and she withdrew from his cock, coughing and spluttering, strands of drool connecting it to her lips.

 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken so long then.” Ned answered for Chataya, as she was in no position to talk. Alayaya wordlessly smirked, then strutted over to Ned and her mother.

 

Kneeling next to her mother, Alayaya eagerly took the unattended cock into her mouth, her hands resting on her knees as she sucked him deep. She hummed as she tasted Ned and her mother together. Ned was amazed at her enthusiastic skill as she pushed the cock deep into her mouth with little issue.

 

She really is more skilled at sucking cock.

 

“Hmm, I taught her well.” Chataya grinned proudly, when she regained her breath.

 

Ned could only hum in response as Alayaya expertly swirled her tongue around his cock. She cupped his balls, stroking them with practiced tenderness. After a few minutes of sucking, Chataya pinched one of her daughter’s coal-black nipples.

 

“Wha-“ Alayaya was interrupted by her mother when Chataya pulled Alayaya into a heated, impassioned embrace.

 

Ned could only sit back and watch as mother and daughter moaned like whores as they kissed. Their large breasts were pressed against each other as their tongues danced. Both out a hand on his cock, they pumped his shaft quickly as he watched their heated embrace.

 

After an eternity, their lips parted and they dived onto his cock together. Mother and daughter swapped his cock head between their lips as they pleasured him wantonly. They worked together with great enthusiasm.

 

At the beginning, Chataya took one side and Alayaya took the other. Both of them sucked along the length of Ned’s throbbing shaft. Their plump lips going up and down the pillar of flesh, occasionally meeting at the tip, where their tongues lavished it together.

 

Then Alayaya moved to sucking his balls and her mother had the shaft to herself. Then both of their soft mouths attended to his balls, as their hands rubbed along his length. They were a deadly duo, and they used their skills to great effect on Ned.

 

When he felt his end fast approaching, Ned lifted both women from his cock. Knowing what was about to happen, both women opened their mouths wide, awaiting their reward. Their tongues were out, the breasts were pushed up, their eyes were pleading. They wanted his seed to cover them.

 

After pumping his shaft for them, he gave them their reward. Rope after rope of Ned’s pearly white seed covered their ebony skin. He aimed most of it into their mouths, yet a large amount of it still covered their faces and breasts.

 

“Gods, he really plastered you.” Chataya giggled as she looked at her daughter.

 

“Me?” Alayaya countered. “You should see your face.”

 

They both rose to their feet and sauntered over to a polished looking glass that stood on a table by the wall. They both cackled at their reflections together, before they set about cleaning up.

 

They licked and kissed each other’s faces and breasts clean. The sight of the two extraordinarily busty beauties kissing each other made Ned’s skill-hard cock throb.

 

“Ladies.” Ned coughed. The pair turned towards him and caught sight of his cock.

 

“That monster’s still hungry.” Chataya bit her lip as she strutted towards him, Alayaya, quickly following.

 

“Yes he is.” Ned answered as he stood from the bed.

 

Chataya was the first to get to him, so Ned threw her onto the bed. The mature Summer Islander giggled as she flopped down on her back. Then she moaned as Ned mounted the bed, got between her legs and thrust his manhood inside her. It only went half way in, but Chataya moaned and quivered as if Ned had filled her to capacity. Her wet, silky tunnel clamped down on him, urging his cock further in.

 

Ned began to fuck her in earnest, speeding up his thrusts in and out, her sopping cunt welcoming him in like a conquering hero. Ned admired the curvy body below him.

 

Flawless ebony skin, large heavy breasts that stood resolute against the effects of time, standing higher and firmer than most women her age. Her flat stomach and thin waist flowed into wide hips and thick thighs. The dark lips of her womanhood eagerly accepting Ned’s pale cock into their folds.

 

Ned wanted her to turn over, so he could watch her divine arse bouncing under his thrusts, but that would mean missing her bouncing breasts.

 

His eye was certainly drawn to their movements. With his one hand, he reached out to grab the soft flesh of her bosom, pinching her black nipples.

 

“You love my breasts, don’t you?” Chataya gasped as Ned went particularly deep.

 

“Yes.” Ned grunted in response.

 

“Then enjoy them!” Chataya cried. “They’re yours!”

 

Ned leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting tenderly. The combined sensations of Ned pounding her cunt and suckling her breasts evidently became too much for Chataya. Her pleasure built higher and higher towards a dizzying crescendo.

 

The first cresting of the wave of her pleasure came with the quivering of her cunt as she arched her back beneath Ned, offering herself completely to him. Ned decided to let go of her breast and focus his assault on her cunt alone.

 

His thrusting became for fervent.

 

The hammering of his cock at the door to her womb came harder and harder as Chataya thrashed and moaned. Her climax was loud and long. She could do naught but moan in the tongue of the Summer Isles as Ned felt her cunt clench so tight around him, he thought he might pass out.

 

Wave after wave of her pleasure thundered through her body. Seeing the tremors move her body was a wonderful sight, Ned decided as he chuckled, his thrusts stilled as Chataya recovered from the explosion of pleasure.

 

“I’ve let you have him to yourself, now you have to share.” Alayaya jumped onto the bed, slinging her expansive thigh over her mother’s head, sitting heavily on Chataya’s face.

 

“Hmmph huhmm” Chataya’s voice was muffled by her daughter’s cunt.

 

“What was that, mother?” Alayaya laughed. “I can’t hear you.” She ground her cunt against her mother’s mouth again.

 

“Are you sitting comfortably?” Ned chuckled as he began to thrust inside Chataya again.

 

“Yes I am.” Alayaya took her mother’s ankles in her hands and spread them far apart for Ned. “Now fuck that stupid whore!”

 

Ned did as he was told.

 

He hammered away at Chataya, taking pleasure in the tight embrace of her cunt. Her large bosom bounced back and forth in time with his thrusts. Alayaya’s own equally impressive set hung resplendently before him as well.

 

Having recently sampled Chataya’s delights, Ned took pleasure in Alayaya’s as well. He sucked greedily on her nipples when she offered them to him. Just as Ned was diligently pleasuring Chataya, so was she pleasuring Alayaya.

 

Chataya’s skilful tongue worked it’s magic in Alayaya’s cunt, making the young whore moan and gyrate her hips against Chataya’s mouth. Eventually, she pulled Ned up from her breasts to kiss her. Ned held her head in place as their tongues battled for dominance, as he ploughed her mother.

 

As their lips parted, Ned placed his hand around her throat, squeezing hard. Alayaya was clearly shocked when she put her hands on his arm, but Ned did not let go. He could tell he was getting close, from the feel of it, both the other women were the same.

 

Soon enough, with Alayaya choking as her eyes rolled back into her head. She came to a breathless climax, voicelessly screaming as she drowned in pleasure, before she fell beside her mother on the bed.

 

After Alayaya’s end came Chataya’s. A clenching climax so powerful that it brought about Ned’s own end. With a heavy grunt and a deep thrust, he filled Chataya to the brim with his seed.

 

With a grunt, Ned left the bed and walked over to a pitcher of water on the table. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply. When he was replenished, Ned turned back to the bed, he saw Alayaya had moved on top of her mother. From the sounds, they were locked in a heated embrace.

 

Ned walked over to them again, Alayaya’s massive, completely exposed arse made a very tempting target. He knelt behind her on the bed, in spite of their earlier efforts, Ned was still rock hard.

 

He lined up his cock with Alayaya’s cunt and thrust the whole way in, in one smooth motion. She had one of the tightest cunts Ned had ever fucked.

 

“Gods!” She moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion.

 

“Your mother’s had her turn.” Ned sighed, pressing deeper into her. “Now it’s yours.”

 

“Fuck her, Ned.” Chataya’s hands gripped her daughter’s hips, pushing them back into Ned. “Fuck her with your big, northern, cock!”

 

“Yes!” Alayaya emphatically agreed. “Fuck your Summer Islander whores.”

 

“As you command.” Ned chuckled as he pulled back by a few inches, then surged forth. He pulled back then thrust, then pulled back, then thrust again. Alayaya’s thighs were shaking as Ned eased in and out of her.

 

“I think she can take more than this.” Chataya laughed as she stroked her fingers along Alayaya’s curvy body, so much like her own. Alayaya only moaned and nodded her head. So Ned fucked her harder, her melodic tones echoing higher and higher.

 

The speed of Ned thrusts picked up, soon enough the clapping of his hips against her meaty arse cheeks could no doubt be heard all over the brothel. Chataya clung to her daughter as Ned fucked her savagely.

 

Ned rained down blow after blow on Alayaya’s arse, making it wobble and shake pleasantly as she came apart under the pleasure and pain. He drove his cock deep into the whore’s womanhood, roughly, unrelentingly.

 

Again and again.

 

Alayaya could only shriek and scream in surrender, submitting to Ned as he used her body for his pleasure. Through one climax, then another, she moaned and cried, succumbing to a whirlwind of wanton lust and desire. She begged him to fuck her harder, to fuck her mother, to breed them both. Only silenced by her mother’s lips as Ned pushed her down and ploughed her with all his might.

 

Alayaya could only pant under him, the abundant flesh of her arse cheeks rippling from the force of his movements. All strength had left her some time ago. The only thing holding her up was Chataya.

 

The long expanse of her flawless back shone with the sweat of her exertion, reflecting the candle light. Ned kept a brutally savage pace as he rammed into her cunt, every inch of it squeezing, and massaging, and begging him to stay there, to give her his seed.

 

After a dozen more thrusts, he did just that. A torrent of seed, the likes of which her cunt had likely never seen from another man, flooded into her. Ned continued to ravage her through his climax, thrusting into her, pushing his seed deep, before eventually withdrawing.

 

There was silence in the room for a few moments, only broken by the sounds of moans coming from the room below them. Something not entirely uncommon in a brothel at night, but there was something familiar about them.

 

“Is that Marei?” Ned asked as he lay in the bed, having fallen there beside the mother and daughter duo.

 

Alayaya listened for a moment before confirming. “Yes.”

 

Chataya started laughing softly. “Well… I did tell her to make sure Gendry was well looked after.” Alayaya and Ned joined her in laughter.

 

A Lannister bastard and a Baratheon bastard… They were a paler imitation of Robert and Cersei. Though hopefully a happier one, Ned thought.

 

After Alayaya recovered, they moved to a new position. Chataya and Alayaya were on their hands and knees on the bed, side by side. Ned alternated between fucking one, then the other. Both offered their arses to Ned and he took them willingly.

 

They went through a number of other positions, but ended the night with Ned and Alayaya taking both of Chataya’s holes together. Ned filling her cunt, while Alayaya took Chataya’s behind wearing a mummer’s cock with a harness.

 

 

***

 

 

Ned awoke the next morning to Chataya informing him that she’d arranged passage for them out of the city. They would go in three groups on separate ships so it would be less likely for them all to be caught. He had offered Chataya the ownership of one of the brothels House Stark owned in the Winter City. The notion that he owned brothels had certainly surprised Chataya.

 

Lemore and Cat had convinced him to buy them. It had been Lemore’s idea to buy the brothels and run them well, to make sure the women who worked in there were not exploited. Even to provide them with a means to stop being whores, should they choose it. They were given better medical care and more worker safety.

 

The idea had certainly been a remarkable success. The whores were happier, so the clients were happier. They paid more and more for the women’s company, so the brothels became a very valuable investment for Ned.

 

He had explained as much to Chataya, who accepted his offer graciously. Then she had roused him from the bed and brought him to the others, where she explained their plans for departure.

 

Chataya would take Myrcella, Lissy, Barra and half the whores on a ship called the Walrus  that was bound for Lys. From there, they would take a ship headed for the Great Canal. Alayaya would then take Gendry and the other half of the whores with her on a ship bound for Braavos, but the captain was a regular customer of Alayaya, so had agreed to make a detour to White Harbour first.

 

Ned and Arthur would go alone on the final ship, only taking their weapons in a trunk with them, their Uru would travel distributed between the other two groups. The third ship was called the Dawn Chaser and was headed for Dorne, from there it would be a simple thing to get a ship North. All three of the ships were leaving that night.

 

 

***

 

 

When night came, Ned and Arthur were smuggled into a large wooden crate and carried onto the Dornish Galley. The Dawn Chaser was apparently the first ship to leave the docks so Ned had left the others in Chataya’s capable care. He had given her and Alayaya copies of a letter to his wives and sons if they got to them before he did, telling them what had happened.

 

There were only two small holes in the box, Ned had one and Arthur had the other. Through them, they peered out onto the deck of the ship as the crew worked around them. It had been decided that Ned and Arthur would get out of the crate when King’s Landing slid over the horizon. So all they had to do was wait, as the ship left dock.

 

“We should talk to Doran when we get to Dorne.” Ned heard Arthur say. “You are his good-brother and Mellario has more than a passing fondness for you. Dorne could be a powerful ally.”

 

“Yes.” Ned agreed. “I ordered the canal to be sealed, the Lannister ships that use it would have to sail around Dorne’s coasts.”

 

Arthur chuckled. “Leaving them open and vulnerable should Doran wish to become a trifle richer.”

 

“You think he would accept the proposal?”

 

“I think he’d accept a good deal more than that, if you asked him.” Arthur laughed. It was true, and somewhat strange, Ned thought. That a man he had been cuckolding for twenty years would be such a good friend of his. “But I would advise we have a proper understanding of the map before we make our move.”

 

“Yes…” Ned agreed. “We’ll be sailing south for some time. I think we’ve both earned a rest.”

 

Soon enough, men came to open up the crate Ned and Arthur sat in. The captain was a tall, thin Dornishman with sandy hair. He was all too happy to help Ned and Arthur against the Lannisters, even giving them his own cabin to rest in, and rest they did.

 

 

***

 

 

“Ned! Ned!”

 

Ned was having a very pleasant dream involving his wives in the pools of Winterfell when Arthur shook him awake. The instant he opened his eyes, he knew there was something wrong. There was a crash of lightning and the ship lurched to one side. Arthur held on to the wall to stay upright.

 

“Wha-?”

 

“We’ve hit a storm!” Arthur shouted. “The ship’s going down!”

 

Ned was only in his undershirt and breeches when he leaped from the bed and ran onto deck with Foesmasher in hand. He held it aloft, hoping, praying.

 

The rain was falling so fast and heavy Ned couldn’t hold his eyes open. The only light came from the mast as it burned from a lightning strike. Waves battered at the hull like an angry bull as the wind tore the sails.

 

“Can you stop it?” Arthur asked, holding on to some rigging as the crew ran around them, panicking.

 

“I don’t know how!” Ned admitted in defeat. There had been practically no time to practice with the hammer. He did not even know how to summon a storm, much less dispel one. There was a mighty groan from the ship as the hull warped under the force of the waves.

 

“We can’t stay here!” Arthur shouted over the rain.

 

Ned looked around at the crew, some were trying to put the fire out while others tried to catch the torn sail. The Dornish captain was bellowing orders as he stood at the wheel. He could not save them all. A great wave came over the side, knocking near a dozen men over the side.

 

Ned went close to Arthur. “I can save us.” He said in his ear. “We’ll need to jump. I can make a ball of ice to protect us. We’ll float until the storm clears.”

 

“Then?”

 

“This ship is sinking, tell me if you have a better idea.” Arthur had none.

 

They found a length of rope to tie themselves together then they both stood on the edge of the ship, holding hands as the wind tore about them. Taking deep breaths, they jumped into the broiling mass of the sea, praying to every god they knew.

 

The wind was completely knocked out of Ned as he hit the water, quickly he felt he blood turn cold and he froze the water around him and Arthur into a two foot thick ball of ice with the same amount of room a small cabin gave them. Ned forced the water out through small holes he made in the top as it rose to the surface. Finally, they could both breath again, standing in a ball of ice.

 

The ice gave them a distorted view of the ship as it was broken apart by the waves. Neither said a word as they both sat, waiting for the storm to pass, bracing themselves as the waves tossed the ice ball around. All they could hear was the wind and the sound of their panting.

 

After the storm passed and the dawn came, the sea was completely still, with not a breath of wind in the air. Ned melted the top of the ice ball, forming a more comfortable boat for the two of them.

 

“Becalmed.” Arthur said as they sat in their boat together.

 

Ned knew it to be true. “I can make us water.” He told Arthur. “We’ll have to wait until the wind returns. With luck, we’ll be blown to land.”

 

“What land?”

 

Ned looked around, blue as far as the eye could see. Not a cloud in the sky, nor a wave in the sea. A great blue void where the sea and sky became one. Ned and Arthur might have been the last people in existence and they wouldn’t know it.

 

“The wind will come.” Ned said. “It’ll come.”

 

They floated for days. When night came, they would lie back and gaze up at the majesty of the heavens. A vast dark void full of bright stars. As good a sight as any to die seeing. On the eighth day of the sun beating down on them, their skin was red and dry, their lips cracked.

 

“Do you see that?” Ned heard Arthur croak as he gazed up at the empty sky.

 

“You’re probably imagining it.” He answered. Days of the heat and sun with no cover had meant they started to see things that weren’t there.

 

“No.” Arthur grabbed Ned’s arm. “Look!” Ned strained his eyes as he looked where Arthur was pointing, out towards the shimmering horizon.

 

“Is that an island?”

Notes:

First I would like to say there is a competition for Westeros’ top Dilf right now. Our boy Ned is in the final, Cat has already won Westeros’ top Milf, I feel her husband should be named top Dilf. I’ll even add some incentive: If Ned wins, I’ll post the next chapter, next week.

https://dyannawynnedayne.tumblr.com/post/724471541948203008/terros-next-top-dilf-finals

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Chapter 24: Chapter 19

Their host spilled from the gates of Moat Cailin like the mouth of a mighty river. A seemingly endless tide of troops marched along the thin, winding causeway that lead into the dense, marshy swamps of the Neck. They all looked so small as Robb observed them, flying overhead on Gnasher, but that didn’t diminish the weight he felt on his shoulders.

 

They all look to me.

 

As the provisional Stark of Starks, Robb was responsible for each and every one of them. He longed for his father. His father always made ruling look easy. Robb needed to mask his fears in a fortress of ice cold resolve, even as they grew greater and greater.

 

He feared for his father’s life, for his mothers, his siblings. Most of all for Rhaenys and their babe. Robb heard a loud rumble as Gnasher growled beneath him, clearly his dragon was aware of Robb’s thoughts.

 

We have to win. For them…

 

Eventually they emerged from the Neck and into the open fields of his birth-mother’s homeland. Constantly circling the marching troops became tedious, so Robb and Jon decided to ride their wolves at the head of the column, beneath the white and grey banner of their house.

 

They needed to be seen by the men. To put on a strong, united front. Their father had taught them that it did wonders for the morale of the men if they saw their leaders stride forth confidently. Each day on the march Robb and Jon asked one of their lords to join them. Father had also taught them that a good leader listened to all of those who followed him.

 

Robb and Jon both listened intently to what each of the lords had to say, though Robb noticed none held Jon’s attention like their great uncle Brynden Tully. They had both been practically weaned on stories of the Blackfish and the Blood wolf.

 

A week after they left the Neck behind them, Robb’s second cousin, twice removed, Lara Stark, came riding down from the North on her dragon, with news that Lannister merchant ships had tried to force entry to the Great Canal. Thankfully, Lord Ryder’s forces had rebuffed the invaders, taking their ships and cargo in the bargain.

 

First blood…

 

Lara was the granddaughter of Artos Stark and head of the Order of Mist. Thanks to the enhancements she had received, she looked barely a year older than Robb’s aunt Lyanna, though Lara had reached her seventy-sixth name-day that year.

 

Robb had been certainly glad to have her and her dragon added to his forces on the march south. Though they now had nine dragons to bolster their forces, Robb was against sending them flying far ahead to scout the way. Dragons were very visible and it was best that they stick together.

 

The Blackfish had taken a hundred wargs and their fastest mounts and raced ahead to screen their movements and scout the way. His aunt Lyanna had gone with them, to ‘Go hunting’ she had informed him. The reports they brought back did little to ease Robb’s mind.

 

Tywin’s host was still many days away, yet Walder Frey was of greater concern. According to their scouts the Lord of the Crossing had assembled a force of near five thousand men at the Twins. Robb and Jon had called their mothers to the front of the column when they heard, though in truth, they only needed to talk to their birth-mother. All three rode up on their direwolves, Elia’s being younger and smaller than their other mother’s wolves.

 

“Late again…” Their birth mother had murmured grimly when they told her.

 

“Late?” Jon asked, unsure of her meaning.

 

“My father dubbed Lord Walder ‘The Late Lord Frey’ when he arrived late to the Battle of the Trident, only after it was clear your father and Robert had won.”

 

“A coward then.” Robb decided.

 

“I would not call him that to his face” his mother answered, “…but yes… Some men place very little value on their word.”

 

“He hasn’t the numbers to fight either Tywin Lannister or us alone.” Jon stated. “What is he planning?”

 

Their Tully mother sighed. “If truth be told, I doubt even he knows what he’s planning. Lord Walder has an old man’s caution and a young man’s ambition, and has never lacked for cunning.”

 

“We have nine dragons.” Their Dayne mother cut in. “Surely he knows that if he stood against us, we’d wipe him out.”

 

“One would hope.” Their Tully mother answered. “One would hope…”

 

That night they made camp by the river. It was the in the planning tent where uncle Benjen brought them further word from the Blackfish. “Lya and Ser Brynden say to tell you they’ve crossed swords with the Lannisters. There are a few dozen scouts the Lannisters will never see again.” He informed them, grimly. Other lords who were in attendance chuckled. “Ser Addam Marbrand commands their outriders, and he’s pulling back south, burning as he goes. Currently, they know very little of where we are, and they certainly won’t know when we split.”

 

“Unless Lord Frey tells him,” Robb heard his mother say. “Ben, you should send word to my uncle, tell him he is to place his best bowmen around the Twins, day and night, with orders to bring down any raven they see leaving the battlements. I want no birds bringing word of our movements to Lord Tywin.”

 

“Ser Brynden has seen to it already, Cat.” Benjen repiled. “I dare say a few more blackbirds, and we should have enough to bake a pie.”

 

The next morning it was Ser Brynden Tully himself who rode back to them. “There has been a battle under the walls of Riverrun,” he informed them, his mouth grim. “We had it from a Lannister outrider Lyanna took captive. The Kingslayer has destroyed Edmure’s host and sent the lords of the Trident reeling in flight.” Robb could practically hear his Tully mother’s jaw clenching at the news. He did not envy her. Robb imagined he would act the similarly if the same had happened to Winterfell.

 

“And my brother?” She asked her uncle.

 

“Wounded and taken prisoner.” Ser Brynden said. “Lord Blackwood and the other survivors are under siege inside Riverrun, surrounded by Jaime’s host.”

 

Robb scratched his chin. The news was grave. “Then we must march all the quicker. We’ll need to cross the river and relieve them.”

 

Ser Brynden was not the only arrival to their camp that day. As the setting sun dipped into the horizon, Sansa came riding her dragon from the North to a tearful reunion with her family. Beric, Yennefer, Triss and the Chosen Men came a day or two after, riding hard after her dragon. She had left them when their ship had arrived at White Harbour, Lord Manderly’s men were currently escorting Arya back to Winterfell.

 

With Beric’s arrival, came the reason for why all this had happened. Joffrey was not Robert’s son. The news had been both surprising and unsurprising. Thinking back on when Robb had met Joffrey, he remembered thinking how little he had resembled the king. He had thought nothing of it at the time, yet now it was clear as fresh water.   

 

Sansa told them all how they had escaped King’s Landing, how they had taken father and uncle Arthur prisoner, and how Snowsong had flown south a few days ago. She also explosively voiced her annoyance at Robb and Jon for fucking Myrcella before she could.

 

Their mothers had ordered Sansa to return home, yet she had refused, saying that Benjen’s son Osric was two years younger than her, yet he was riding his dragon to war. Eventually, they conceded to Sansa’s reasoning and it was decided that she would stay with them.

 

It was another day and a half until they laid eyes on the Twins, with the sun shining high in the sky. The Frey bridge was a massive arch of smooth grey rock, wide enough for three wagons to pass abreast. A tall tower rose from the center of the span, commanding both road and river with its arrow slits, murder holes, and portcullises. Two squat, ugly, formidable castles stood on either side of the bridge.

 

Twins by name, twins by nature.

 

Both keeps were perfectly mirrored, with high curtain walls, deep moats and heavy oak and iron gates. Storming the castle would cost far too many men, but as it happened, they had near a dozen dragons to support them.

 

Robb did not relish the thought of having to kill everyone inside the castles, especially as they were full of innocents who would likely let Robb cross the bridge without a second thought. If it came to it, could I condemn them to death? Robb asked himself. He hoped he wouldn’t have to answer it. Looking to his side, he saw Jon was thinking the same thing. “Would father want us to destroy the castles to save him?” Jon asked in a hushed tone, hoping the others wouldn’t hear them.

 

“If it were possible, he’d want you to make a deal.” Obviously their Dayne mother had better hearing than Jon had guessed.

 

As they studied the castle, a sally port opened, a plank bridge slid across the moat, and a dozen knights rode forth. Their banner held high above them, the twin towers, dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey.

 

“They’re lead by four of Lord Walder’s many sons.” Robb’s Tully mother said.

 

“Can you name them?”

 

“Not all.” His mother confessed. “But Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder’s heir is among them.”

 

“Which is he?”

 

“The one with the weasel face.”

 

“They all have weasel faces…” Jon observed. Robb had to stifle his laughter.

 

Their mother gave them both a stern look. “Ser Stevron is past sixty, with grandchildren of his own.” She said. “He’s the one that looks like an especially old and tired weasel.”

 

The old weasel-man in question rode up to them, his horse clearly unnerved by the direwolves. To his credit, Ser Stevron did not seem so afraid of them. Though that was perhaps because his gaze was fixed on the dragons that circled overhead. Aunt Lyanna, Rhaenys, Alsyanne and Sansa had decided they needed some dragonriders in the air when they came upon the Twins. It seemed they had the intended effect.

 

Ser Stevron coughed. “My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to… who leads this mighty host.”

 

“I do.” Robb spurred Grey Wind forward. He was clad in a full suit of black Uru plate, with the direwolf shield of Winterfell strapped to his saddle. Gnasher gave a rather loud roar as he flew above them, making the Frey knights look to the sky nervously.

 

“Th-the Twins are yours… Prince Stark.” The old man stammered, bowing his head. Robb felt a great wave a relief washing over him. He urged Grey Wind closer to Ser Stevron’s gelding, his direwolf stood taller and longer than the horse, and seemingly weighed near twice as much. The knight’s horse sidled away from him nervously.

 

Robb leaned closer. “You made the right choice.”

 

“My lord father also wished to cement our alliance…” Ser Stevron said carefully.

 

 

**********

 

 

Robb had come to realise that Walder Frey lacked any sense of shame or subtlety. He was sending nearly two dozen of his daughters and granddaughters to Winterfell ‘For their own safety’ he had explained.

 

Walder Frey’s intentions were clear. He likely wanted them to bed down with Northern heirs or even Stark men, getting the Frey’s more allies. Or perhaps just marrying them off. Robb’s mother had said multiple times that lord Walder often found trouble finding matches for all his many children.

 

Robb didn’t particularly mind, he could even see himself and Jon bedding a fair few of the more beautiful ones. He had even offered Robb one of his own sons as a squire, Olyvar Frey, son of a Rosby woman. There was no need to deny him, so now Robb found himself with a squire he didn’t quite know how to deal with. He sat astride Grey Wind, watching part of his forces marching over the bridge when Lara rode up next to him.

 

“Any news from our scouts?”

 

“Nothing new.” Lara reported. “I’ve been speaking to your mother about Walder Frey…”

 

“The sooner we are away from him, the better.” Robb stated. He had proved to be a throughly disagreeable man when Robb had talked to him.

 

“Your mother seemed to agree.” She looked at the two keeps of the Twins. “This bridge is too important to be in the hands of a man we cannot trust.”

 

Robb saw reason in that. “So what do you suggest? It’s not as if we can simply remove him.”

 

“Lord Walder is an old man… As are many of his sons…”

 

Robb turned to her, grimly. “What are you suggesting?”

 

“I am sworn to defend house Stark and the North.” Lara affirmed. “We are at war and Walder Frey is a weakness I will not abide.”

 

“You think he would betray us?”

 

“Men like him are driven by spite. He feels others look down on him, and they do. He would sell you to the Lannisters in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it.”

 

“We have dragons, why would he betray us?”

 

“Unless you plan to keep them at the Twins, they will be of little use.” Lara said. “He fears the dragons when they are on his doorstep, but what about when they are far to the south? To be united by fear, is a fragile alliance at best...”

 

“This feels wrong.” Robb admitted. Yet it did make a certain sense. His father was in prison, his uncle was held by their enemies. What was the life of one lecherous, rude, spiteful old man against them?

 

What would father think of me for discussing this?

 

“Let me worry about the rights and wrongs.” Lara placed her hand on his shoulder. “Give me the command, and I’ll see to the rest.”

 

“What would that entail?”

 

“Perhaps you should keep your focus on fighting the Lannisters.” Lara advised.

 

Robb sighed as he looked over his men marching along the bridge. Then looked Lara in the eye, and nodded. His father had once told him that being the Stark of Starks meant making decisions that wouldn’t sit right in the heart. But there was wisdom in Lara’s words, he would be a fool to leave such an important bridge in such fickle hands.

 

It took hours for their forces to split. Robb lead nine tenths of the Northern mounted forces; rangers, mounted Winter Wolves, knights, other armoured lances, freeriders, and mounted bowmen. A sizeable portion of the great dire wolf pack also joined them.

 

Robb left by far the larger part of the northern host, pikes, archers, crossbowmen, thunderers and great masses of men-at-arms on foot, on the east bank under Jon’s command. Their separation had nearly been tearful, but they were not boys anymore, so they shed none.

 

The orders had been given for Jon to continue the march south, to confront the huge Lannister army coming north under Lord Tywin. Their Dayne mother had surprised them when she stated she would join Jon, against their protests, saying he should at least have one of his mothers with him. She was not alone in joining Jon. Robb sent Benjen with his sons, Beric, Lara and Sansa with him. It seemed the best course of action as Jon would be facing the larger army, and would likely need more dragons. That left Robb with his own dragon, Alysanne’s, aunt Lyanna’s and Rhaenys’ dragons. Four dragons were more than enough. And more than that, he had the Chosen Men.

 

The moon was rising when Robb began to lead his forces south to Riverrun. “Will they be safe, mother?” Robb asked as he looked across the river to his little brother’s forces.

 

“Your brother and sister have Beric to watch over them. They have Benjen and Lara…” She said, sadly. Robb could tell his mother was afraid. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it would all be fine. But they had no time for lies.

 

For good or ill, he had thrown the dice, it was time to see if the odds were in their favour.

 

 

**********

 

 

Days passed by quickly as they rode hard to Riverrun. Their host had grown since they left the Twins. Lord Jason Mallister marched his men from Seagard to join them as they swept around the headwaters of the Blue Fork and galloped south.

 

They’d picked up other stragglers along the way: hedge knights, Witchers, small lords and masterless men-at-arms who had fled north when uncle Edmure's army was shattered beneath the walls of Riverrun.

 

When they neared their destination, Robb gave the Blackfish three hundred picked men along with experienced wargs, sending them ahead to screen their march. The closer they could get before being seen, the better. A day after Robb sent him off, the Blackfish returned.

 

"Jaime does not know of us.” Ser Brynden said to the council of lords as they sat in Robb’s tent. "We’ve seen to it that no bird reaches him. The few of his outriders that saw us, were dealt with swiftly. He is blind north of the Tumblestone."

 

"How large is his host?" Robb asked, looking over the mad that splayed out in front of him.

 

"Around eight and a half thousand foot, scattered around the castle in three separate camps, with the rivers between. Along with some trolls, mages, and a pride or two of great-lions." Brynden explained, with the craggy smile. "Along with maybe two or three thousand horse."

 

Galbart Glover smiled. “That’s less than we have.”

 

“But they are fortified.” Rickard Karstark countered.

 

“Yes, they’ve plated wooden stakes along their camp perimeter.” The Blackfish pointed at the map.

 

“Uncle, when you rode into camp, you said you had an idea.” Robb heard his mother saying.

 

“Yes.” The Blackfish smiled. “Your father might have already taught you this,” He turned to Robb. “but one of the most powerful skills a battle commander can learn is reading his enemy. Once you understand him, you can know how he’ll react to your moves. And once you can do that, defeating him becomes that much easier.”

 

“So what can you tell me of Jaime Lannister?”

 

"The Kingslayer is restless, and quick to anger," Brynden said. "He is no man to sit in a tent while his carpenters build siege towers. He has ridden out with his knights multiple times already, to chase down raiders or storm a stubborn holdfast."

 

“You’ve seen this?”

 

“No.” The Blackfish admitted. “But Karl Vance and Marq Piper have been harassing his baggage train with fifty men since he started the siege. Our riders met up with theirs in the Whispering Wood. When they attack, the Kingslayer rides out to chase them down with his mounted men every time.”

 

“And two thousand is a much smaller number than eleven thousand…” Robb understood.

 

He looked over the map again. They wanted to draw the Kingslayer out. The question was where they drew him to. Robb summoned everything his father had taught him and made his decision.

 

"Raid him… here," he pointed at the northern camp of the Lannister forces. "A few hundred men, no more. Tully, Mallister, Vance, Piper banners… He has to think it’s another night-raid by Riverlander men. When he comes after you, lead him” Robb moved his finger north, into the wood, to a river in a valley " here. Cross the river at the bend and continue riding north along it. Lords Karstark and Umber will charge at the Kingslayer from the north,” The Greatjon chuckled, clearly happy that he was attacking the enemy head on. “Lord Nord and Ser Stevron shall ride at them from the western ridge, Lords Mallister and Glover get the eastern ridge.” Robb continued to issue orders. “And finally Lady Mormont and Lord Ryswell circle around and take them in the rear.”

 

“I imagine the sight of the Mormont bear riders will send the Lannisters screaming into the Greatjon’s open arms.” Alysanne’s words sent a rumble of laughed among the lords.

 

“If this is done well,” Robb said. “we’ll have taken Jaime Lannister and his mounted forces off the board all within an hour.” He looked up to the Blackfish, hoping to find approval.

 

“Your father taught you well.”

 

 

**********

 

 

The moon hung high in the starless sky, casting silver light into the dark waters of the winding river as it flowed along the floor of the valley. Robb was sitting still, yet he could feel his heart thundering so hard and fast that he feared it might jump out of his chest.

 

Grey Wind shifted his weight slightly, beneath him. The great grey direwolf shifting from paw to paw in anticipation. The gentle clink of Grey Wind’s Uru armour adjusting to his movements echoed through the trees.

 

Robb had sent the Blackfish and his men off over an hour ago. Now they gathered along the ridge, looking over the valley below. Waiting.

 

Around him, Robb could hear the mounts of the Winter Wolves and Ice Guard neighing softly. The men spoke in soft voices, like they were afraid to wake a sleeping babe.

 

“When we used to wait for a fight, your father usually went along the lines and talked to the men a little.” Harper whispered to him. “It lifts their spirits.”

 

Robb was glad to have the Chosen Men with him, though he would have rather they stood guarding his mothers and Rhaenys, along with the other hundred men he had assigned to them. This would not be a battle for dragons, so he had ordered that Rhaenys stay back with his mothers. She hadn’t exactly taken it well.

 

On dragonback, it was another matter entirely, but on the ground, she was vulnerable. Rhaenys had only reluctantly agreed when she discovered she no longer fit into her armour due to her growing babe.

 

If Robb had been able to find a way to prevent Alysanne from fighting, he would have used it in an instant. Alas, to Robb’s dismay, she carried no babe and was as strong a fighter as any of his other warriors.

 

He put her with the Mormont cavalry, hoping that as they would attack the Lannisters in the rear, they would have the easiest task. Aunt Lyanna also rides beside her, Robb told himself. He’d seen her put uncle Arthur on his arse more than enough times for him to know her skill.

 

Robb saw his mothers and Rhaenys as he turned Grey Wind to walk among the men. He made sure not to let them see his fear. He had killed before and fought in small skirmishes, nothing like the numbers of a real battle. It was certainly a prospect he didn’t relish.

 

Rather empty words of encouragement fell from his lips, the men seemed to appreciate it, though they likely could have given him better ones. Robb was riding with veteran Winter Wolves, men who had fought beside his father in Robert’s rebellion and on the Iron Islands. They knew how to fight, and they knew how to kill.

 

Eventually Robb reached his family. It was much darker where they were, the trees were closer, blocking out the moonlight. He did not know the words to say. The fear in their eyes was plain to see.

 

“I have the Chosen Men with me and Fang.” Robb tried to console them. His father’s familiars had come south with them, Fang had rarely left his mother’s side. “Alys has aunt Lyanna with her… We’ll both be fine.”

 

“Don’t you dare die, Robb Stark.” Rhaenys looked him in the eye. “Our son will know his father.”

 

Robb urged Grey Wind closer and placed his hand on Rhaenys’ belly. “I promise i’ll come back.”

 

“We’ll be here waiting for you when you do.” His Tully mother said. She smiled then, Robb could tell she was doing it for his benefit.

 

Robb turned Grey Wind and urged him slowly onward. A bird called faintly in the distance, a high, sharp trill that Robb recognised in an instant. Another bird answered; a third, a fourth. It was the call of a northern bird. A Snow Shrike. The signal for when the lookouts saw the Lannisters.

 

They’re coming, Robb thought.

 

Olyvar cantered his horse up to him, shivering like a leaf as he handed Robb his helmet. He donned it quickly, urging Grey Wind back to the front of the line. The woods grew still around them, all of them straining to hear the Lannisters coming.

 

Robb heard them first, with Grey Wind’s ears. The thunder of hooves and the clamouring of steel against steel. Then came the voices, shouting and laughing and swearing and the sound of snarling lions.

 

Robb tried to still his hammering heart as the sounds grew louder and louder. First it was the Blackfish who crossed with his men dashing behind him. Not long after came the Lannister horse, hooting and hollering after them, splashing into the shallow part of the stream as they crossed.

 

From his position at the edge of the tree line, Robb saw Jaime Lannister leading the charge, his golden armour turned silver in the moonlight. He was not wearing a helm. The Lannister horse rode behind him, long columns of the pure gold armour of the Golden Legion shining in the dark. There was so many Robb thought Jaime Lannister had probably taken his entire mounted force with him to chase the raiders down.

 

None of his men dared breath, lest the Lannisters heard them. Slowly urging Grey Wind forward beyond the trees, Robb glanced back at his loved ones one last time before drawing his sword. He lifted it high into the air.

 

Steelcoat gave a long, low howl that rolled down into the valley from the south-east. Robb would know the sound of Alysanne’s wolf anywhere. It was the signal that the last of the riders had entered the valley. They couldn’t afford any of them escaping back to their camp.

 

Grey Wind threw back his head and howled in response to his sister.

 

Then came the others. To the north, and west, and east and south more howling answered. Over a thousand direwolves baying for blood. For a moment Robb felt a touch of pity for the men in the valley bellow. Then he remembered Beric’s words: “Close your heart to their suffering.” Lannisters held his father and attacked his mother’s family. They had to die.

 

In the base of the valley, Lannister men were shouting as their horses reared in terror. They bunched up together in fear of what was in the dark. The Whispering Wood let out a breath as Robb’s bowmen loosed their arrows on the unorganised group below them. The night erupted with the screams of men and horses. Then came the mages. Yennefer and her compatriots sent a hail of fireballs down on the Lannisters. The valley exploded with light for a few instants as the men burned.

 

All around Robb, the Winter Wolves had risen their Uru lances. Robb made sure the Chosen Men had readied themselves before he shouted “Winterfell!” And urged Grey Wind forward again, down the hill.

 

The Chosen Men were beside Robb as Grey Wind began to speed down into the valley. The Winter Wolves lowered their lances, like long black fingers of a shadow hand reaching out to crush the Lannister men.

 

With a motion of his wrist, Robb activated the Shield of Krato, that he wore on his vambrace. He heard the mechanisms turning as the plates shifted and expanded to form a large round shield with a direwolf’s head emblazoned upon it. Father had given it to him as one of his wedding presents. Robb was glad to have a so-called unbreakable shield with him now.

 

To the north, Robb saw the Greatjon’s riders burst from the darkness beneath the trees, rushing to the base of the valley. To the south, he could hear the roaring bears of the Mormont cavalry dashing forth to block the Lannister retreat. A final volley of arrows rained down from overhead, the last, as it was a poor commander who shot his own men.

 

In the last few moments of the charge, Robb felt it all slipping away. Grey Wind dashed ahead of the horses at blinding speeds. All he could see was the Lannister troops in front of him, through the narrow slit of his helmet. The thundering hooves and shouting men fell away, all that remained was his breathing.

 

Then he crashed into a Lannister horse, Robb didn’t even have time to strike before Grey Wind ripped the horse’s head off and moved on. He was unaware of his men charging into the Lannisters around him, the valley rang with the echoes of screaming men. The crack of broken lances, the clash of swords, the cries of "Lannister" and "Stark".

 

A man in golden armour came swinging his sword towards Robb, he blocked his with his shield, thrusting out under it with his sword. He heard the man screaming as he fell of his horse. Then came another, only to be set upon by Harper and Cooper. Harper blocked the man’s wild swing as Cooper near took his head clean off.

 

Robb wasn’t quite sure what was going on. He heard the rending of steel and the snarling of hundreds of bears.

 

A steel tipped lance bounced off his shield. Grey Wind went low, rushed forward and leaped onto the knight who held it, taking the man’s torso in his maw as the horse fell beneath them.

 

The battle was mostly a blur. Robb could hardly see what was going on, every now and then he felt something hit him, rarely did it ever hurt. He hacked and slashed at the men in front of him, as Grey Wind ripped and tore with his teeth.

 

A lion jumped up and knocked him off Grey Wind, knocking the air from him as they fell to the muddy ground, it’s claws trying to rake through his plate. Robb rolled in the mud and stabbed it in the belly with his sword.

 

“Stark!” He heard a voice shouting his name. Robb scrambled to his feet and looked to the voice, only to see Jaime Lannister galloping towards him, his sword held aloft.

 

Not thinking, Robb ducked under the Kingslayer’s blow, slashing his sword out at the horse’s legs. The horse screamed as the black Uru blade took off one of it’s hooves. The horse wheeled and fell, Jaime Lannister falling into a roll before rising to his feet.

 

Robb had only a moment to collect himself before the Kingslayer was on him, slashing high, then low as Robb stumbled backwards. His father’s words running through his mind. “ Asses your enemy. What do they have? What do you have?”

 

The Kingslayer was faster, stronger… Older… More skilled… More experienced…

 

Fuck!

 

A failed counter sent Robb’s sword tumbling from his grasp. He held his shield up as Jaime Lannister hammered away. “The Kingslayer’s quick to anger…”

 

“Once you understand him, you can know how he’ll react to your moves.”

 

“A Lannister values their pride above all…”

 

“Joffrey is Jaime’s son…”

 

“Wait!” Robb shouted as he stumbled back.

 

To his surprise, Jaime relented, letting Robb stumble back a few steps. The fighting had died away around them. They stood mostly alone in the dark. He could see Harper and the Chosen Men were rushing to them behind Jaime.

 

“You want to yield, Stark?” The Kingslayer smiled.

 

“My father fucked your sister!” Harper had told them how he hand seen Robb’s father and the Queen together. His mothers had only laughed.

 

The Kingslayer’s face froze in a mixture of fury and confusion. “What did you say?”

 

Robb inched closer to his fallen sword he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. “Would you prefer if I called her your lover?” Robb forced a laugh, though his ribs hurt from the fall. “Though I suppose that might no longer be the case after father is done with her.” He saw Jaime’s face twitching in rage. “It’s nothing personal. Men and women are often drawn towards Starks...”

 

“Liar!” Jaime held his sword high, Robb lunged to the side, summoning his blade to his hand.

 

The Kingslayer was angry now, making mistakes, swinging more wildly. But Robb could tell he was still out of his depth. Thankfully, their duel was interrupted when Harper, Cooper and Harris barrelled into the Kingslayer, knocking him into the mud.

 

“Remember us?” Harper bellowed as he punched Jaime’s unprotected face.

 

The Kingslayer kicked and rolled, trying to grab his sword as the Chosen Men pinned him down. Robb heard Lyanna’s voice, he lifted his visor up and saw she had a hand on his shoulder. Fang and Grey Wind stood with her. His aunt was covered head-to-toe in blood.

 

“Are you alright?” She asked again.

 

“Yes.” Robb answered her, looking around the battlefield.

 

The vast majority of the bodies on the ground were men he did not recognise, wearing sigils he did not know. Lannister men? There was fighting in the distance, he saw Alysanne running through a troll whith her Uru spear. Robb turned when he heard a shout. The Kingslayer had managed to free himself.

 

“He’s mine!” Lyanna shouted, advancing with her Uru longsword in hand. The Chosen men stood back around Jaime Lannister as he pointed his sword to Lyanna.

 

“As you wish.” He smiled, though his face was bloodied with a broken nose.

 

“You took Ned’s hand.” Lyanna growled.

 

Robb saw a flicker of guilt in Jaime’s eyes. “Someone interrupted us…” he said, almost apologetically. “He gave me the best fight i’d had in years. That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen…”

 

Lyanna gave a battle cry as she thrust her blade towards Jaime’s heart. She was clearly quicker than the Kingslayer was expecting, pushing him onto the back foot. Every attack Lyanna made was aimed at the Kingslayer’s unprotected head, with him rarely being able to counter attack.

 

Robb had always known his aunt Lyanna was a great fighter, but he had never realised how good she was until just then. An overcommitment from Jaime left him on unsteady footing. He never saw Cooper with the spear. The Kinglsayer let out a cry and fell to one knee when the Uru tip went straight through his armoured thigh.

 

Quicker than a snake, Lyanna swung her blade left, then brought it down on the Kingslayer’s sword arm, cutting his hand off at the wrist. Jaime’s first scream was nothing compared to his second, or even his third, when Lyanna heated up her blade with magic and cauterised his stump.

 

“For Ned.” Was all she said.

 

The battle ended rather quickly after that, when what few Lannister men who remained saw they had Jaime captured, they threw down their arms in surrender.

 

Robb found Alysanne pushing her Uru spear through a dying horse, putting it out of it’s misery. She’d lost her helm, but was otherwise unhurt. When Robb got to her, they held each other so tightly Robb thought they might both burst.

 

A blood-red sun was dawning when they rode back to their mothers. The beasts they had with them had begun to eat the dead. Robb saw that it took every ounce of willpower his mothers and Rhaenys had not to gallop towards him and Alysanne and full tilt.

 

“Are you hurt?” Rhaenys reached to his blood-soaked arm when they were near enough.

 

“Uh… No.” Robb said, looking down at his right arm. “That’s… Lion blood?” He wasn’t entirely sure. Rhaenys leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her as she buried her face into his shoulder.

 

“You did well.” His birth mother said to him and Alysanne.

 

The Chosen Men carried the Kingslayer up the hill, still unconscious after his maiming. “The Kingslayer.” Lyanna said proudly as they presented him to Robb’s mothers.

 

“But short a hand.” Elia noted the stump.

 

“Seems fair to me.” Lyanna smirked. “He took Ned’s hand, I took his.”

 

"He’s lucky we didn’t feed him to the wolves." Alysanne piped up, turning to her mothers. "Gods mother, the realm hasn’t seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. The Lannisters must have lost twenty men for every one of ours that fell. We've taken over two hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax... and another Lannister besides Jaime, one of his brother's sons…"

 

“Your father would be proud of such a victory.” Their Tully mother said, warmly. “But it is not complete yet.”

 

“I know.” Robb answered. “We still have Riervrrun to free.”

 

They had the day to rest and mend their wounds, come nightfall, they would attack the Lannister camp around Riverrun. Their plan was laid out quickly.

 

During the hour of the Wolf, the Blackfish would lead the vanguard to kill the scouts and lookouts of the northern Lannister camp. They would then clear away the defences for more of their riders to charge into the sleeping camp and fire their tents.

 

Robb and Rhaenys would fly their dragons over the western camp between the two rivers, burning and freezing their siege towers before Lord Umber could lead the rest of their cavalry in to clean up the remains. Lyanna and Alysanne alone would do for the third camp. After the first battle, fewer worries plagued Robb’s mind about the second. They would be riding dragons far above the people below.

 

When the hour came to make ready for the attack, the dragonriders mounted up sprung in to the air. They flew so high above the Lannister camp they could nearly touch the clouds. It was there they had to wait. The cold was fierce, though they were all wrapped in many layers.

 

The Blackfish’s attack on the northern camp needed to be underway before the dragons could attack the rest. Eventually the hour came. From his position, Robb could see his forces clearing away the palisades of the northern camp. All four of the dragons descended, roaring in a terrible fury.

 

Robb heard Rhaenys cry “Dracarys!” and the world was made light.

 

She burned two half-made siege towers, reducing them to ash. Flying low, Gnasher kicked over another with his mighty legs. Men were screaming and running in the camp below. Running from the dragons straight into the Greatjon’s charge from the west.

 

Men were gathering on Riverrun’s ramparts, watching and cheering the Northern army. Robb saw there were men trying to cross the Tumblestone on rafts. Trying to escape the dragons, or reinforce the northern camp, Robb did not know.

 

“Rhaenys!” Robb shouted to her, flying close. “They’re trying to cross the river!”

 

She knew what he was asking of her. Flying over the river, she began to move her arms, bending the water to her will. The river responded to her movements. The waters rose, beginning to flow faster and faster. What few men managed to board the rafts were swept into the water. Men who wore heavy armour rarely ever proved to be good swimmers.

 

Hearing a horn blowing, Robb turned to see a Blackwood banner leading a sortie of men from Riverrun to attack the Lanniser camp. They caught the Lannister shield walls in the rear as they tried to fend off a northern charge. They shattered the formations between them.

 

A horn sounded victory in the northern camp, Lyanna and Alysanne had obliterated the southern camp, and men in the western camp were throwing down their swords in surrender.

 

“Two victories and Riverrun relieved!” Rhaenys shouted over the wind as she flew her dragon next to him. “Not a bad start!”

 

“Let’s hope the Gods are as generous in their favour with Jon!” Robb replied.

 

 

************************************************************************

Jon

 

 

They had been marching south down the King’s Road for ten days. Slowly making their way towards Tywin Lannister. Jon wanted to keep the men marching at an easy pace, they would need their strength for the battle ahead.

 

“We have six dragons.” Jon said to his mother, who rode beside him through the camp. “Close to a thousand giants. You don’t need to worry.”

 

“Only a fool doesn’t worry when her children go to battle.” His Dayne mother looked across to him. “You cannot diminish a mother’s worries with simple words, little pup.”

 

“Then I will make sure to end the battle as quickly as possible.” Jon vowed.

 

“You are a kind son.” His mother laughed, then turned to other matters. “I saw Sunbeam flying overhead earlier. Where’s Sansa flying to?”

 

“She wanted to go with uncle Benjen to scout the south.” Jon explained.

 

“Be sure to tell me when she returns.” She said, as she dismounted Starlight and stood at the entrance to her tent. “After a long day of riding, I feel i’m in need of a long bath.”

 

Jon left his mother to search for Beric. He was one of the oldest and most experienced warriors Jon had, he aimed to make good use of the old Witcher. Jon found him pouring over a number of maps splayed out over a large wooden table in his tent, depicting various parts of the Riverlands.

 

“We’ve been letting some scouts through as ordered.” Beric reported. “Tywin’ll have a general idea of where we are.”

 

“Good.” Jon nodded, looking over the maps. “Tywin Lannister is who I came to talk about.”

 

Beric looked up, pensively, one hand stroking his beard. “What do you want to know?” He indicated to a chair.

 

“What was he like during the War of the Nine Penny King’s?” Jon asked, sitting.

 

“You want to know how he thinks.” His uncle stated.

 

“Yes.”

 

Beric drummed his fingers on the table as he thought of what to say. “Tywin Lannister is a cautious man,” he leaned forward in his seat. “not prone to make rash decisions on the field. He likes to stay with the reserves at the back, only leading them into the fray when he knows he has a decisive advantage.”

 

“So he’s a coward?” Jon asked. He’d heard the stories of how his father had always lead his men from the front. As a good leader would.

 

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, Jon.” Beric answered softly. “Many a war-hero has won battles by commanding from the rear. He also surrounds himself with competent men. You’d be hard pressed to find a commander in his army that doesn’t have some idea of what they’re doing.”

 

Jon grimaced. “So it’s unlikely we’re in for an easy skirmish.”

 

“You would be a fool if you thought we were.”

 

“Well, I am no fool.” Jon looked his uncle in the eye. “How would he fight his battles?”

 

“The man has little respect for life.” Beric explained. “He’ll happily sacrifice men to insure victory. That’s how he nearly got Rodrik killed during the war.” The words seemed bitter on his tongue.

 

“The Wandering Wolf?” Jon asked, surprised how Tywin had managed to nearly get a Stark killed. He had heard of how his great grandfather —through his father’s mother— was crippled during the War of the Nine Penny Kings. The salient details escaped Jon in the moment, but he remembered it was something to do with one of the great Blackfyre dragon-abominations. The Wandering Wolf’s dragon had been Snowsong, who went to his grandson, Jon’s father, after him.

 

“Yes. Even today the tight-arsed cunt says Rodrik got himself hurt.” Beric grumbled, then let out a sour laugh. “Rickard and I took Joanna to a tent that had the entire Ice Guard assembled in it… She was limping for days afterwards…”

 

The thought drew a laugh from Jon’s lips. The powerful Tywin Lannister getting cuckolded by a group of guardsmen. Then his eyes fell to the map before him. “How do you think Tywin will plan to attack us?”

 

“Well, he’ll think Robb is leading us, for one.” Beric listed. “Being the pompous prick he is, Tywin’ll think you both lack the age and experience to match him. I’d wager ten gold dragons that he thinks you’ll be quick to anger and easy to fool.”

 

“Lucky for us, I am neither of those things.” Jon stated, to his surprise, Beric barked out a laugh. “…What?” He asked, with a hint of indignation.

 

“You forget that Rhaenys told us why you decided to fuck Myrcella.” Beric chuckled. Jon pouted. That was different. The Lannister shit insulted Rhaenys. “Either way.” The old Witcher continued. “I expect Tywin will try to goad you into overcommitting troops, stretch out our lines, then charge in with his reservists to mop up the remains.”

 

“How would he achieve that?”

 

Jon sat in silence, watching Beric tap his chin as he thought through manoeuvres. “Probably with a false rout,” he began. “tempting you into a charge and them slamming you up the arse with a steel lance.”

 

“Sounds painful.” Jon quipped.

 

“Druids recommend avoiding the condition, yes.” Beric studied a long map of the Riverlands in front of him. “Barring some extraordinary feat of troop movement, we’ll have the Green Fork to the west when the battle begins.” He pointed along a thin blue line cutting through a sea of green. Then he began to move wooden markers that stood on the side of the table into two lines. The Lannister line in the south and the Stark line in the north. “He’ll probably leave his left flank weak and easy to crumble,” On the Lannister line, Beric moved the wooden soldiers next to the river, back. “so we focus our men on it.” He then moved the troops from the Stark line into the gap. “Then probably rotate his lines thus,” he turned the Lannister line on it’s axis. “and pin our men against the water.” Using the Lannister line, Beric pushed the Stark pieces into the river.

 

“Then we should not be so accommodating.” Jon affirmed, mulling over Beric’s presentation.

 

“Agreed.”

 

Jon began to lay out his army. “We have more men-“

 

Beric interrupted him. “But not many more.”

 

“…But not many more.” Jon continued, “And Robb has taken most of our mounted troops west across the river. Most of what he have left is light cavalry, mounted archers.”

 

“The Lannister cavalry will outnumber ours by a not-insubstantial amount.” Beric agreed.

 

“We should let them come to us.” Jon looked up to the older man.

 

“That’s what I would suggest.” Beric nodded in approval. “Keep a strong, defensive formation and have the dragons flying overhead, doing what they do best.”

 

“Here.” Jon pointed to the map. “Twenty miles to the south of here are some hills that we could make our stand on. They’re by the river and much closer to us than Tywin’s army.”

 

“I know those hills.” Beric smiled when he saw where Jon was pointing. “The larger one practically touches the river and it’s north side is far too steep for a force to climb.”

 

“Leaving only two directions it can be attacked from.” Jon finished Beric’s sentence.

 

“I’ve an idea for the smaller hill to the east of it…”

 

Jon stayed in Beric’s tent for hours, drawing up plans with him. They would both spend the night thinking on the plan, then bring it to Benjen on the morrow. If Benjen could not find fault with it, the plan would be presented to the lords.

 

A swirling vortex of anticipation and apprehension encircled Jon as he walked through the camp. His first real battle was close at hand and against the feared Tywin Lannister, no less. A chance for Jon Stark, the younger twin, to show his quality. Robb had entrusted Jon to lead and he would not fail his brother.

 

He had bid his mother and sister goodnight before he found his way to his abode, at the end of a long row of tents. From a distance, Jon knew Val and Ygritte were already in there by the sight of Ember and Pearl sitting outside the tent. Ghost had yipped happily and bounded over to them. When he got closer to the tent, he began to hear moans and the slapping of skin floating out from inside the tent.

 

Jon chuckled and looked to the Ice Guard standing sentinel at the entrance to the tent. “They been at it long?”

 

“I… uhh… I wouldn’t know, sir.” The Ice Guard responded resolutely. He was a younger man, likely only a year older than Jon. It was probable he was very new to the Ice Guard.

 

Chuckling, Jon walked passed him and into his tent, where he was gifted by a sight he would never forget. On the bed, in the centre of the tent, Ygritte was fucking Val to within an inch of her life. The sounds of wet slapping and Val’s moans of pleasure filled the air.

 

It was almost comical. Ygritte, the older of the two, was nearly half a foot shorter than Val. The shorter twin had mounted the taller one, fucking her blind.

 

Ygritte had her back to Jon, he could see the muscles of her massive arse flexing as she thrust her hips down onto Val’s arse. She was wearing one of the mummer’s cocks they owned, put in a harness so she could fuck Val senseless. Her flaming red hair was loose, her skin flushed and sweaty from exertion. Even from behind, Jon could see Ygritte’s large, heavy breasts swaying with her every thrust.

 

“I see you haven’t been idle in my absence.” Jon announced himself.

 

Ygritte turned and smiled. “You took too long.” She laughed as she unstrapped her harness and jumped off the bed, leaving the mummer’s cock buried deep inside Val, who was left on her hands and knees resting on the bed, her face buried into the pillow her arms were wrapped around as her thighs quivered weakly.

 

Ygritte sauntered nudely over to Jon, before drawing him into a passionate embrace, pressing her body fully against him. It wasn’t long before Jon’s cock was straining against his breeches, begging to be set free.

 

“I was making plans with Beric.” Jon’s eyes rolled over his curvy wives as Ygritte walked to a small table and poured them cups of water.

 

“So we ride to battle soon?” Val murmured from across the tent, removing the still-vibrating mummer’s cock from her cunt.

 

“Perhaps.” Jon said as Ygritte passed him some water. His eyes drifted to Ygritte’s stomach, Jon reached out, palming the smooth skin above her cunt. “How’s my daughter?” He asked.

 

Ygritte and Val had informed him of their pregnancies a day after they had left Moat Cailin. For Jon, the thought of having children of his own had been a comforting one in these trying times.

 

“You know nothing, Jon Stark.” Ygritte laughed, putting her hand over his as she raised her cup to her lips. “This is your son.” She nodded her head towards the bed. “Val’s the one who’s carrying your daughter.”

 

“Is that so?” Putting down his cup, Jon began to take off his clothes.

 

“Yes it is.” Ygritte’s bright blue eyes were alight as she watched him undress. “A mother knows these things.” She lead him over to Val once he was fully undressed and pushed him down onto the bed.

 

“Gods, I love your massive cock...” Ygritte moaned as she knelt on the floor and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, pumping her hand along it, sending a thrum of arousal through Jon’s body.

 

“So hard, and all for us.” Val smiled, leaning over, she kissed him.

 

Their tongues caressed each other lovingly, there was little of the bite that Ygritte had when she kissed him. Jon almost laughed against Val’s lips. It was a predicament could have never imagined himself being in when he was younger. He sat naked on a bed with two beautiful, and equally naked sisters. His wives. One was rubbing his cock gleefully while the other kissed him as if her life depended on it.

 

“As Val was the one getting ravaged when you interrupted us,” Ygritte rose from the floor and sat on the bed. “I feel you owe her the first fucking.”

 

Val laughed as she pulled away from Jon, lying back on the bed and spreading her thighs wide. “I agree. Our wife was plundering my cunt for all it’s worth when you arrive. Perhaps you should remind it who it really belongs to.”

 

Jon’s cock was achingly hard as he cast his eyes over his blonde wife. She was a goddess. Flawless, creamy skin, all soft curves and toned muscle. Her massive, pillowy breasts rising and falling with every breath.

 

He repositioned himself on the bed, bringing the whole length of his cock down on her cunt with a wet slap. It reached from her cunt, all the way past her belly button. A small shiver on anticipation when right through Val.

 

“I would hate to disappoint my adoring wives.” Jon smiled as he placed his hands on Val’s knees, rubbing his shaft against the lips of Val’s cunt. He manoeuvred the tip of his cock to probe her entrance, feeling how wet and ready she was for him, causing her to quiver and moan.

 

A soft whimper escaped from Val’s lips as Jon eased the first inch of his cock inside her. Sliding his hands up her thick thighs, Jon took hold of Val by her hips.

 

“Do it, Jon.” Ygritte urged him, kneeling behind him on the bed, placing her chin on his shoulder. “Slam the perfect, blonde whore.”

 

Looking down at Val, Jon was reminded just how similar she was to Genna. How she moaned and coo’d when he fucked her stupid.

 

“Take me, love.” Val moaned, moving her hips to get move of his length inside her. “Just like you took my moth-Ahhhhhhh!”

 

Jon didn’t let her finish, he tightened his grip on her hips and slammed the entire length of his cock into her. Val threw her head back and howled like a wolf. Her back arched in ecstasy, presenting her perfect breasts to Jon’s hungry gaze.

 

Jon didn’t give her a moment’s rest.

 

He pulled back and slammed into her again. Somehow even deeper than before. He took Val with no restraint, fucking the depths of her cunt with his cock. With his hips, he thrust into her, with his hands, he pulled her onto him.

 

Val’s arms were running through her golden locks as her head thrashed from side to side. Her perfect breasts bounced back and forth in time with his thrusts. Jon felt his cock throbbing inside Val’s molten cunt at the sight of them. There were fewer things that got Jon harder than Val’s bouncing breasts. Something she had used to great effect many, many times.

 

It took fewer than a dozen thrusts to make her scream like a mad woman. Ygritte was still behind Jon, running her hands lovingly over his skin, pressing herself against his back. She offered a constant stream of commentary and encouragement.

 

“Oh, I love it when you do that to me…”

 

“I can’t wait until you’re fucking me with that tree-trunk you call a cock…”

 

“I love your muscles. I love how they feel against my body…” She gave him a playful nip on the ear.

 

“My room used to have a lovely view of the training yard. I used to pleasure myself as I watched you train shirtless…”

 

“Aren’t Val’s tits amazing?” Ygritte reached out and pinched one of Val’s nipples, making her sister squeal.

 

“Does her cunt feel the same as my mother’s?”

 

“Of the three of us, who would you say is the best fuck? Obviously me, but where do Mother and Val rank?”

 

“The whole camp can probably hear Val’s wails.” Jon finally answered her, as Val screamed that she wanted Jon to breed her.

 

“I know how to fix that.” Ygritte snorted, crawling over to the other end of the bed. Without another word, she mounted Val’s face as if it were a saddle, sitting heavily down on it. Val’s hands went to Ygritte’s wide hips in surprise, her screams of pleasure muffled by Ygritte’s cunt.

 

“That’s certainly one way.” Jon chuckled as his thrusts slowed.

 

“The best way.” Ygritte smirked as she leaned forward and captured Jon’s lips with her own, ending their embrace with a sharpe nip.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Well it can’t all be sweetness and light.” Ygritte laughed. “You’d get bored.”

 

Ygritte’s smirk gave way to shudders and moans as Val went to work on her cunt, licking at her folds like she was born to do it. She pleasured her sister without restraint or hesitation, drawing a delicious song of ecstasy from Ygritte’s plump lips. Jon decided to help Val, reaching out, he palmed one of Ygritte’s hefty breasts, pinching her rosy nipples.

 

“You love my tits, don’t you Jon Stark?” Ygritte fixed him with a sultry gaze as she bit her bottom lip.

 

“Of course I do.” Jon responded, his cock still deep inside Val. “Who wouldn’t?”

 

“Val’s are much better.” Ygritte began to play with Val’s tits as they bounced and heaved beneath her. They were two great melons capped with tiny pink nipples, hanging high on Val’s chest and softer than a goose downed mattress. “I’ve always loved they way they bounced when she gets fucked.”

 

Val gave a hum of something under Ygritte’s cunt. Ygritte began to roll her hips, moaning louder. For a few moments Jon sat back and watched as the Ryder twins moaned and pleasured each other. He could see Val’s jaw moving as she feasted on Ygritte’s cunt.

 

Deciding he had watched long enough, Jon spread Val’s legs as wide as they would go, then speared the whole length of his cock inside her cunt. Her scream of pleasure muffled by Ygritte’s cunt.

 

She was tight and wet and wanton for him. The muscles of her cunt choked his cock, trying to squeeze his seed from it. Her silky smooth walls massaged and embraced him as he thrust, withdrew, then thrust again.

 

There were times when Jon loved that he was the man he was. This was certainly one of them. He pounded Val for all her worth, making her body sing a symphony of pleasure.

 

“Fuck this whore, Jon.” Ygritte moaned, on the verge of screaming. Val was always talented with her tongue. “Fuck her. Fuck her! Give her your seed!”

 

“That what you want Val?” Jon leaned forward slightly, for better leverage as he ploughed Val. “Do you want my seed?”

 

Val’s response was muffled by Ygritte’s cunt.

 

“She said yes.” Ygritte answered for her sister, seemingly having trouble staying up. Her skin was flushed and beaded with sweat, she was beginning to tire.

 

“What about you?” Jon asked, reaching out and grabbing his redheaded wife by her throat and squeezing. “Do you want my seed too?”

 

Ygritte’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden lack of air. One of her hands went to Jon’s wrist, holding him at her throat. The feeling of squeezing Ygritte’s throat as Val squeezed his cock was maddening for Jon, driving his lust higher and higher.

 

“Yes!” Ygritte choked out. “Yes! Please give me your seed! I love you! I love you! Give us your seed!”

 

Ygritte’s hips began to gyrate on Val’s face, desperate for pleasure and chasing her end, going and back and forth across Val’s tongue. Jon felt his first climax of their lovemaking fast approaching.

 

From the look in Ygritte’s eye and moans coming from her mouth, Jon could tell she was closer. He was proved right a few moments later. Val’s tongue on her cunt and Jon’s hands on her throat and breasts were clearly getting to be too much for her.

 

Ygritte was driven to a howling, explosive climax, drenching Val’s face with her pleasure. The only thing holding her up was Jon’s hand at her throat, and he held her there as he fucked Val to within an inch of her life, her massive breasts swaying back and forth under him. When he released her, she fell back onto the bed, still squirting her release over Val’s face.

 

A dozen thrusts after Ygritte’s end, Val began to shake uncontrollably, her screams now unmuffled by Ygritte’s cunt. Jon used one of his hands to start pinching and slapping her tits, making her shiver all the more. Her vice-like cunt clamped hard down on his cock, begging him to fill her with his seed as it drenched him in a tidal-wave her pleasure.

 

That proved to be his undoing.

 

Jon set a blinding pace as he thrust his way to his climax. His hips were a blur as he pounded Val’s cunt, cock throbbing with desire. Obscenely wet slapping sounds filled their tent as Jon fucked his rapturous end into Val.

 

The pressure in his cock built to a maddening crescendo and he released a torrent of his seed into Val’s womb. He held himself there for several minutes, filling her cunt with his seed. If she were not already pregnant, a babe would have been all but guaranteed.

 

Eventually Jon pulled back, his cock slipping out of Val’s cunt with ease. He sat on his knees as Val lay on her back, panting hard, her breasts rising and falling. Her face was flushed and drenched in Ygritte’s pleasure.

 

Jon raised his finger to Ygritte. “Get on top of her. Now.” Ygritte knew his tone would not accept denial. With a strained huff, her sweaty body rose from the bedsheets and crawled over to Val. “You must be face to face with her.” Jon ordered. “Tit to tit.”

 

Ygritte slung her leg over Val’s ample hips and lay down on top of her. “This to your liking?” She wiggled her hips from side to side for his amusement. Ygritte arched her back, leaning down to kiss Val’s lips, her massive, pale, heart-shaped arse rising up behind her.

 

An offer… An invitation… An arse that begged to be spanked.

 

“Val might have better tits.” Jon smiled, drinking in the erotic curve of her fleshy arse. “But she can’t compete with your arse.”

 

Ygritte giggled as she arched her back a little more. “I’ve heard that often enough.”

 

“It’s true.” Jon rose from his position to press his pelvis against Ygritte’s arse. His hard cock throbbed as it nestled between the twin moons of her expansive arse cheeks.

 

In moments, Jon’s hands were kneading the flesh like dough, squeezing and running his hands over Ygritte’s delectable rear end. He could hear her humming delightfully in approval as he spread her cheeks apart, then pressed them together. He lifted his hand high, then brought it down on the arse with a hard smack.

 

Ygritte squealed, pressing her arse back further into him, begging for more. “Harder…” she moaned as Jon raised his hand again, then brought it down. “Harder.” She begged.

 

Smack!

 

“Harder!”

 

Smack!

 

Smack!

 

Smack!

 

Jon struck her a few dozen times on each cheek, turning them as red as her hair. Ygritte could only quiver and moan under the assault, raising up to gasp for breath between kisses.

 

Much like Jon loved the way Val’s breasts bounced as she was fucked, he adored the way Ygritte’s arse bounced as she was spanked. The way it jiggled and wobbled under his hand, the way Ygritte moaned and presented herself to him submissively.

 

“Your arse’ll be as red as your hair when i’m done with you.” Jon laughed as he surveyed his work.

 

With a flick of her long red hair, Ygritte turned her gaze back to him, smirking. “Are you going to stop beating me and start fucking me any time soon?”

 

“Is that a command?”

 

“Yes.” Ygritte pressed her arse against his cock again, using the impossibly round globes of her cheeks to massage his length. “Your wife demands you fuck her. So get to it.”

 

Jon ran his hand along Ygritte’s toned back, making her shiver. “As you wish, my love.”

 

He took hold of his shaft, hotter than a naked flame and harder than Uru, still slick from Val’s pleasure. With one hand on Ygritte’s hip, he guided himself to the lips of her cunt. The soft, wet lips of her womanhood caressed his tip, then he pushed against them.

 

The muscles of Ygritte’s cunt clenched around the first inch of Jon’s cock as it slid inside. He witnessed a small shiver move along Ygritte’s spine as he eased further in.

 

Her head dropped low as she let out a low moan, pressing herself back onto Jon eagerly, completely surrendering to him. Jon pulled her cheeks aside, so he could watch the inches of his cock entering Ygritte’s silky tunnel.

 

“Good girl.” Jon smirked as Ygritte took every inch of him without complaint. “How much do you love my cock?”

 

“I loooovvee iiiiit.” Ygritte whined. “I want it allll the time.”

 

“What a needy whore you are.” Jon laughed, laying a hard smack on Ygritte’s arse again, making her squeal in pleasure.

 

He thrust on, plumbing the fathomless depths of Ygritte’s cunt , as it clenched around him, massaging him, begging for his seed. Ygritte loved to rave about how Jon held complete ownership of her cunt, but nothing made Jon as sure of that truth, as how Ygritte’s body reacted to him, mewling prettily as he claimed her.

 

Few things drove Jon mad like Ygritte’s cunt. It was the seven heavens. She was tight, and wet, and hot, wrapping around him like a warm silk blanket. A river of her pleasure was leaking from around his cock as he thrust into her.

 

Ygritte’s moans were muffled by Val, who’d recovered from her session with Jon and locked lips with her sister, holding Ygritte close. Jon began to violently fuck her, riding her like an unruly horse.

 

“You moan so prettily when you’re taking his cock, short-arse.” Val giggled to her sister.

 

Jon leaned forward and locked eyes with Val. “One day i’m going to fuck the two of you, Anya and Genna all together.” He told her. “All four of the Ryder women.”

 

Anya was Ygritte and Val’s older sister. She was a Witcher, so her comings and goings were sporadic at best. That hadn’t stopped Jon from enjoying all three of the Ryder sisters together, but he had yet to have all three of them alongside their mother.

 

Val and Ygritte both moaned together at his words, clearly they enjoyed the idea. Val’s hand snaked down to her cunt and began to play with herself.

 

“All four of the Ryder women…” She repeated. “All getting seeded by you…” she began to moan loudly.

 

Jon pressed Ygritte’s head to Val’s, on instinct, they began to kiss, silencing each other with their lips. He sank his cock the whole way into Ygritte’s cunt. All the way up to the hilt. Jon swore as he ground his hips against Ygritte’s ample arse-cheeks. She was shaking and crying, gasping as Jon speared deep into her. She was clinging to Val as her toes curled in the bedsheets.

 

Ygritte was being taken by him like a bitch in heat. Jon withdrew from her again, easing the inches from her, then slamming them home, repeatedly. Ygritte moans climbed the shrill cries as he ploughed her. Plundering her depths, conquering her body with his cock.

 

Val reached onto a side table that stood by their bed, she retrieved a paddle of palm wood. Val brought it down on Ygritte’s arse with some force, smacking it louder and harder than it had been so far. Ygritte’s flesh rippled from the blow as she shivered, screaming like a banshee.

 

“Take it, whore!” Val grunted, striking Ygritte’s arse again. “Take your spanking like a good slut!”

 

Slaps and claps echoed throughout the tent. Ygritte’s arse was repeatedly assaulted by Val’s paddle and Jon’s pelvis. On and on they went, not stopping until Ygritte was brought to a screaming climax, that Jon relentlessly fucked her through.

 

Back and forth. Back and forth. Every inch of Jon’s footlong cock slammed in and out of Ygritte’s cunt, using her for it’s pleasure, making her shriek and whine through her climax, her whole body trembling. Her cunt was clenched tight around him, tighter than even Val’s was, it wanted him to stay there forever.

 

“Take me like a wolf!” Ygritte moaned against Val’s cheek, her strength leaving her. Her back glistened with sweat from their lovemaking. Jon leaned down and gripped her by the hair, hauling her up.

 

“You want to be my bitch?” Jon asked, punctuating his words with deep, hard thrusts.

 

“Yes…” Ygritte moaned as her eyes rolled back.

 

“Louder, bitch!” Val began to twist Ygritte’s nipples with one hand, the other diddling herself as she watched them.

 

“Yes! Yes! I want to be your bitch! Please take me!”

 

“Beg me to sire my pups on you.”

 

“Please! Please! Please sire more pups on me! I want bear your children! I’ll birth you an army of sons! I love you!”

 

Jon gave a toothy grin as he clutched Ygritte’s hair tighter. He took her like a wolf, rutting hard and fast against her. The bed was creaking awfully loudly beneath them, threatening to break under the force their coupling.

 

If they were battling, it was an unmitigated rout on Ygritte’s side. A lesser woman would beg for mercy, but Ygritte held out till the last.

 

Jon felt the mounting pressure on his cock again, the pleasure overwhelming, threatening to undo him. With a few last powerful thrusts, Jon emptied his balls right into Ygritte’s womb, a torrent of his seed filling her to the brim. Clearly the feeling of Jon filling her was too much for Ygritte, who came to her own spectacular climax, shaking and moaning as she sprayed her pleasure from her cunt, his cock holding most of it inside her. Jon felt the sudden rush of warmth as her cunt strangled his cock like a snake.

 

Jon released Ygritte’s hair and she flopped down into Val’s waiting arms, submissive and utterly spent. He collapsed on top of the twins, feeling their warm skin against his. The three lovers panted in silence together, the thrum of their heartbeats in sync. Then sleep took him.

 

When Jon awoke, he found Ygritte and Val lavishing his cock with their tongues. The Ryder twins working in perfect harmony to bring him pleasure with their mouths. Jon lay back and prepared for a nice relaxing hour of rest when he heard raised voices outside his tent. Soon enough, lord Robert Rarker pushed past the guards and entered Jon’s tent, looking decidedly put out.

 

“I’m sorry, prince Jon.” His Ice Guard called out as he came in after lord Rarker, who’s eyes went wide when faced with Val’s and Ygritte’s bare bodies.

 

“It’s fine.” Jon said. “You may go.” The Ice Guard bowed and beat a hasty retreat as lord Robert sent his jaw, with an angry look in his eye. “You have a problem, Lord Rarker?” Jon said nonchalantly as both of his wives continued sucking his cock, uncaring that they had an audience.

 

Lord Rarker was a big man, taller than Jon and built like a bear, with a shaved head and a long ginger beard gathered into one braid, a few streaks of grey running through it. “Yes, I have a problem.” The lord of the Denhold fumed. Jon knew the lords were getting restless, something like this was likely to happen sooner or later. “We should be taking the fight to the Lannisters!” He pointed to a map of the Riverlands that hung on the wall. “But you have us marching slower than my mother… and she’s been dead for eleven years. Don’t you get it, boy? The sooner we smash Tywin, the sooner we can save your father!” Lord Rarker took a breath, before speaking more evenly. “You’re supposed to be leading us. What do you imagine the men think when they don’t see you for days on end, but they hear your whores crying out all over the camp.”

 

I wish I was him?

 

Ygritte rose from Jon’s cock and fixed lord Rarker with a steely gaze. “Our husband may call us his whores whenever he wishes. You may not…”

 

A look of complete surprise fell on lord Rarker’s face, and he looked away sheepishly. “Apologies, princess. I-I did not know it was you.”

 

“Apology excepted.” Val, tore her lips off Jon’s cock for a moment. “Now fuck off.”

 

“Your brother’s off taking the fight to the Lannisters.” Lord Robert looked him in the eye. “You owe it to him and your father to do the same.”

 

“You wish to know our plans?” Jon asked, rising from his bed, still nude. He walked over to a table and pointed to a map. “The reason we march slowly is because we want Tywin to come to us. We want him to come further north, further away from Riverrun and his supply lines.” Jon emphasised, pointing along the the Gold road. “He knows we are here and he wants to deal with us quickly, so he can move on to Robert’s brothers. I ask you, why should we tire our men out rushing to meet him when he is rushing to us anyway?” Jon asked. Robert did not answer, so Jon continued. “The further up the kingsroad he marches, the further away from Robb and the Kingslayer’s armies he gets. Meaning Tywin will have no hope of reinforcing his son when Robb attacks. If Robb is successful, he’ll have smashed one Lannister army, freed Riverrun from siege, broken the Lannister supply lines and rallied the Riverlords. If we do this right, if we can keep Tywin away from his son for long enough, we’ll be able to trap Tywin between three armies and force a surrender from the Lannisters.” He moved several wooden markers to surround Tywin’s army. One group was his army, the other was Robb’s, the final one was the Riverlords. “If Tywin becomes aware of Robb on the other side of the Green fork and reinforces his son, our plan could fail. So we march slowly, we make him do the work to reach us. The more tired his troops are, the more rested and ready ours will be. Do you understand?”

 

Lord Rarker, looked over the map sternly, trying to find fault in the plan. “…Yes.” He said, finally. “I apologise for my words. I was wrong to doubt you.”

 

“Think nothing of it.” Jon smiled, placing his hand on lord Rarker’s shoulder. “You are loyal to my father and want to see him free, I cannot find fault in that.”

 

After another apology, lord Rarker left their tent. Jon went back and flopped down onto his bed with Val and Ygritte.

 

“So that’s our strategy,” Val said, thoughtfully, as she stroked her hand over Jon’s chest. “I was wondering why we spent more time fucking than marching.”

 

“Not that you’ve ever complained about too much fucking.” Ygritte snorted.

 

“We are about to fight a battle against your mother’s family…” Jon said, the whole affair feeling more real after he’d explained it to one of his lords. He would need to do the same again later in the day, to all of them.

 

“Mother has made her peace with it.” Ygritte said. “She is loyal to father, as we are loyal to you.”

 

“She only asks that you spare her family members.” Val added. “If you are able...”

 

“If I am able…” Jon repeated.

 

 

***********

 

 

An early morning sun rose from the east. A red dawn. Some would call it an ill portent, but Jon had no use for portents as he flew above his amassing army. Together Jon, Beric and Benjen had presented their plans to the other lords and their captains. When all had been agreed, they marched. They had arrived at their hills in good time, making preparations for when Lord Tywin’s army came.

 

And come they did, though they were certainly taking their time.

 

The Lannister army gleamed in dawn’s light, horns blaring and drums hammering. Lines upon lines of men clad in gold and steel and polished iron marched from the south. The land between the two armies was soft and muddied. Part of their preparations had been to bring the murky water from the Green fork onto the land south of their positions. Crossing the sodden ground would be like walking through the seven circles of the hells for the Lannister heavy troops, wading through knee-deep muck while fire rained down on them.

 

From high in the sky, Jon had a clear view of both forces. If only there was an easy way to communicate, he thought. Alas, all Jon had was a horn, making it difficult to convey much more than ‘I want your attention!’

 

It wouldn’t have made much difference anyhow, the northern troops were stationed on high hills. There was little Jon could see that they could not. Beric’s description of the hills had been very accurate, the western side was practically sheer into the Green fork and the north side was too steep to climb. That left the eastern and southern sides the only accessible options for attack.

 

The main bulk of the army was on the hill in tightly packed formations. Walls of Uru armour, studded shields and long pikes. The Ice Guard stood sentinel around the lords bannermen in the centre of the army. Standing behind them were squares of archers and crossbowmen that checkered the top of the hill. Among them stood the giants, holding boulders they would hurl at the enemy, causing death and destruction wherever they landed. The slight shimmer of the magical protection wards surrounded the whole northern army. It was the main protection against magical attack, but it wouldn’t keep everything out, the troops would have to weather some of the storm.

 

A thousand banners fluttered in the wind, Jon saw the diamond-shaped grey dragon of Lord Nord, Manderly’s merman, the Karstark sunburst, the ravens of Rarker, along with Cerwyns and Hornwoods and Dhalarks and Greystarks and hundreds more. Above all flew the Stark direwolf, grey wolves on a sea of pure white snow.

 

Jon knew the names and faces of every one of the North’s lords and their children. He knew some of them would not survive the battle.

 

A detachment of the main forces, lead by Beric, was positioned on the smaller hill around seventy yards to the south-east, shielded from view with magic. Six-hundred Thunderers protected by seven-hundred Dwarven Ironbreakers and a handful of Witchers. It was Beric’s idea that the Thunderers would rain fire down on the flank of forces attacking the main hill. By all accounts a good plan, and a devastating one if they managed to execute it properly.

 

Jon turned his eyes to the south, to the Lannister army that was taking shape on the king’s road. Golden lions fluttered in the wind with hundreds of other banners. The Lannister archers had arrayed themselves in three long lines to the east and west of the road. The gods were with them, with the wind blowing down from the north, the Lannister arrows would likely fall short, while their own arrows were carried further. Between the lines of archers, pikemen had formed a number of squares, followed by men-at-arms with spears and swords and axes in hand. A large group of heavy horse near three hundred strong massed at the centre of the group, Jon imagined that was where Kevan Lannister commanded his troops from, if Beric was correct.

 

The Lannister’s eastern flank seemed all cavalry, thousands of knights on heavy horse, their armour glinting in the morning sun. Beside them were armoured lions and trolls, they were the hammer for the Lannister army.

 

Let’s see how their armour suits them when they’re wading through deep mud under a hail of arrows.

 

At the head of the heavy horse rode a Lannister banner, according to Beric, lord Tywin usually gave command of his mounted men to his brother Tygett, a Witcher of some repute in the South. Behind his banner flew many others, unicorns, boars, roosters, Jon even spied the sigil of the Golden Legion.

 

Jon urged Moonhowler to circle around and he looked to the Lannister’s western flank. Like the eastern, it was all mounted men, though in far poorer condition. Where their right had trolls, lions, full plate and heavy lancers, their left had men in gambesons and leather, wielding scythes, old swords and wood-chopping axes. The best of them were freeriders and sellswords, the majority were field-hands who’d likely never seen a battle before.

 

There even looked to be some mountain clansmen to Jon’s eye. He had met more than a few of the Northern clan leaders in Winterfell. They were good men and strong warriors, but there was a reason they were among those not called upon to march south.

 

Jon even saw some of them running already when they saw the dragons, only to be cut down by what few knights rode on the western flank. Tywin means for them to break on our lines like waves on a beach, Jon realised.

 

Beric’s words rang true. Jon thanked the gods his great uncle was with them, and that he was able to predict Tywin’s strategy so accurately. They did not ask the be marched to war. He knew they were only boys, probably younger than he was, told to march for their lord or die. Jon closed his heart to those feelings. The world was a cruel place, if he refused to kill his enemy’s troops because it wasn’t fair, then they’d be let loose on his own men.

 

The Lannister army has been raiding and raping the Riverlands, he told himself. In an effort to quell his empathy for them.

 

Behind the troops on a small hill, stood the Lannister reserves and Tywin himself. Leading from the back, just like Beric had said. The reserves seemed to number close to ten thousand, half mounted and half foot. A faint shimmering field enclosed around them. Jon was more than tempted to call on Sansa, Lara, Benjen and his sons, and all fly to kill Tywin in a torrent of ice, but Jon saw a dozen Luminark’s of Hysh standing between them and Tywin. They were massive, ornately decorated carriages with a Warrior Priest standing on top behind a delicate array of focusing lenses.

 

A Luminark of Hysh magnified magical energy into a concentrated beam, shining with the divine light of the Seven. One beam wouldn’t kill a dragon, nor would twelve, but the blow would certainly be felt. Luckily, their range wasn’t too great, and their accuracy was little better. Jon knew if they stayed at a distance and kept moving, it was unlikely they would be hit. But their threat denied the dragons areas of the battlefield. Jon wondered how easy it might be to out flank and surround the Luminarks.

 

The low rumble of the Lannister drums came to a halt when their troops stopped marching. The drums were replaced with shouting and cheering for their lords, ferocious and ready for a fight. The Northerners answered with their own cries, howling like beasts baying for blood.

 

Jon knew then that the battle would not be an easy one.

 

His heart pounded in his chest in time to the drums. Soon all were washed away by the long, low warhorns that the Winter Wolves brought to battle. As small chill ran along Jon’s spine when he heard them, drowning out all other sound until only the horn remained. The Lannister trumpets answered the call, though they sounded small and far away in comparison.

 

Jon circled his dragon back to flying over his troops, he saw Sansa and Lara falling in behind him, as Benjen lead his sons back. Jon heard men shouting orders as they flew over them.

 

The twanging of thousands of bowstrings drew Jon’s attention to the Lannister lines, their archers had loosed their first volley as the rest of their army marched forward. A cloud of arrows arched through the air as the Northerners raised their shields. Due to the winds from the north, most of the arrows fell short, with only a few finding a home in the shields of Stark men.

 

A horn blew and the northerners loosed a volley of their own. This one found it’s target, at the centre of the Lannister foot, a scream rose from their lines as a thousand Lannister men stumbled and fell. Then came another volley, and another. A good start, Jon thought. If the battle continued on this path, it would take little time to win.

 

It seemed the Lannister’s western flank was to be their vanguard, the less armoured troops had an easier time traversing the mud and would charge up the hill to break against the northern shield walls if they were allowed to.

 

“Sansa! Lara!” Jon shouted to his family members as he circled them with on Moonhowler. “We’ll take their western wing!” He shouted over the wind. “Benjen! Take your sons and deal with their eastern wing!”

 

Once all confirmed their understanding, the flew off. The Lannister’s charging western flank quickly turned and ran when they saw three dragons flying towards them.

 

“Reothadh!” Jon yelled the word for dragon ice in the Old Tongue.

 

Moonhowler opened his great maw and froze the riders in his path. Sunbeam and Windrider joined him and soon a massive ice structure formed on the battlefield. The wing of riders broke and ran in the shadow of the Stark dragons. A great wave of victorious cheers washed over the Stark lines.

 

It seems we might not even need to use the Thunderers, Jon thought as he chuckled to himself. All cheer died when a great monstrous roar echoed over the battlefield.

 

Jon looked to the Lannister lines again.

 

“…Oh fuck…”

 

 

*************

Beric

 

 

Beric was in a somber mood as they made their way to the top of the hill, as he often was just before a battle. He remembered the war of the Nine Penny Kings and the Greyjoy Rebellion, the battle and death. It was not something he had wished for Jon and Sansa to see, nor Benjen and his children. Yet when he looked to the sky, he saw them and Lara circling above him on dragonback.

 

Riding Moonhowler, Beric was tempted to tell Jon how much he reminded him of Rickard. Sansa had even shown herself to have more than a few qualities Lyarra held. It was times like this where he felt Blackadder’s absence even more.

 

When Beric chose to become a Witcher, he was young, fourteen years old. He hadn’t quite comprehended that he would outlive all his brothers and sisters, and their children, and likely their children’s children. It was a sobering reality.

 

“Remember, we need to be hidden from the Lannisters.” Beric told Val and her mages when they finally got to the top of the hill.

 

“I know.” Val answered, dismounting her direwolf. The mages all began chanting their illusion spells to hide their force on the smaller hill.

 

The dwarven Ironbreakers came marching after the Winter Wolves. Their shorter legs and very heavy armour made them slow moving, but the protection they gave was perhaps the strongest in Westeros. Their armour was renown for breaking enemy weapons when struck. But if the mages spells worked as they should, then the Ironbreakers wouldn’t be needed much.

 

“I want you in lines facing outwards!” Beric barked his orders to the Winter Wolves. “One third of each line facing south! The next third facing south-west! The final third facing west!” He indicated with his arm. “Ironbreakers protecting the flanks and the rear! With our mages standing in the middle with the Witchers!”

 

And with that, the just-over fifteen-hundred Beric was commanding went into formation. Beric dismounted Roach when he was finished giving orders, he stood in front of the Winter Wolves as they formed five ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder, all with Thunderers in hand.

 

“Captain Mainwaring!” Beric called, looking for the commander of the Thunderers.

 

“Over here, sir!” A hand went up in the middle of the front line. Beric eyed the stout man instantly. He’d always thought Mainwaring a little pompous, but he would never dare deny the man’s bravery, nor the devotion of his men. After serving in the Winter Wolves for near forty years, he still fought for the Starks whenever called upon.

 

The man had even been offered a place in the Ice Guard, the highest honour a Winter Wolf could aspire to. Mainwaring turned the offer down, saying he would not abandon his men. He was one of the many veterans that made up the Winter Wolf Thunderers, the younger troops had taken to calling them “Dad’s Army”.

 

As perhaps the oldest man on the field, he found a kinship with them.

 

“Everybody in order?” Beric cut into the line on Mainwaring’s left.

 

“Certainly, sir.” The captain answered. “My men are the elite, I dare say they could win the battle on their own.”

 

“That’s the spirit.”

 

Just then, the Lannister troops began enter view, their armour shining in the morning sun. “Gods, look at them all.” Beric heard a voice in the lines behind him.

 

“There’s got to be tens of thousands there.” Another, younger voice said.

 

“Then you’ll have no excuse for missing, Pike.” Captain Mainwaring cut in. “Now, men!” He cleared his throat and began shouting. “Our job is simple. We are to stand on this hill and fire at the enemy as they attack our main forces on the larger hill, over there.” He pointed to the other hill.

 

“What if they charge at us instead?” Pike asked.

 

“They’ll not do that.” Mainwaring answered. “That’s what are mages are for. They’re keeping us hidden.”

 

“Won’t they know we’re here when we start shooting them?”

 

“Yes, but we’ll have the element of surprise.”

 

“What if they start charging us then?” Pike asked again.

 

“Then we stand our ground.” Mainwaring said, with a touch of finality. “And we keep shooting them until they stop.”

 

Beric could hear the drums and horns sounding from the Lannister army, and the main Stark force on the other hill. All his could hear from his own men were mutterings and prayers to the gods. Soon enough, the Lannisters began to move. Their light cavalry coming along the river.

 

“Lord Tywin’s sending those men to die on a Stark shield wall.” Captain Mainwaring observed, mournfully.

 

Beric could not disagree with him. “I imagine he wants to goad our men on the other hill into charging down after them.”

 

“Where they could then be cut down by his heavy cavalry.” Mainwaring finished his thought. “A sound strategy, if a bloody one.”

 

“We’ll wait for them to charge, then we shoot them.” Beric affirmed.

 

The thought seemed strange to him though. The Luminarks of Hysh were Tywin’s only real defence against the Stark dragons. So why would he send his cavalry charging ahead of them? Surely he knows the dragons have the advantage…

 

“Seems the dragons have other ideas.” Mainwaring indicated to the sky.

 

The dragons had split into two groups, and were making to preemptively attack the enemy cavalry. Jon, Sansa and Lara made short work of the western flank, to the raucous cheers of the men.

 

But then Beric heard something that shook him to his very bones. All cheers died when a series of loud, terrifying roars pierced the sky. A sound Beric knew all too well.

 

Dragons…

 

It seemed they weren’t the only ones who where hiding their troops with magic.

 

Maybe a dozen dragons rose from behind the Lannister lines, screaming bloody fury. Oh, gods… None of the dragons looked over forty, they were many colours, many shapes and sizes, certain features Beric recognised as from Targaryen dragons. But it did not matter where they came from. The revelation near sent his men into disarray.

 

“Hear me!” Beric shouted, taking control of the situation. “Sounds the drums!” He called, a deep thundering answered him. “Are you wolves, or sheep!?”

 

“AWOO!” All seven hundred of them called the response.

 

“Are you men of the North?!”

 

“AWOO!”

 

“ARE YOU STARK MEN?!”

 

“AWOOO!”

 

“They have dragons?! We have dragons! And ours are fucking bigger!” Beric shouted. “They have magic? We have magic! They have numbers? We have numbers! Nothing has changed! We have a battle to fight, and we are going to win it!” His words were met with a cheer from the men. Beric hoped he showed more confidence than he felt.

 

Questions were raging through his mind, yet he shoved them down. In the moment, it didn’t matter how  the Lannisters had dragons, what mattered was that they had dragons. Beric looked to the sky, the Stark dragons were outnumbered two-to-one, but all of them -bar Sansa’s- were larger than the Lannister dragons. Lara had the most experience fighting dragons with dragons from the war of the Nine Penny Kings, Beric told himself she would know what to do.

 

Tywin had lured them well, the Stark dragons had flown out of position to attack his cavalry, now they were being punished for it. The Lannister dragons circled them like flies. They were smaller, but mostly quicker. They knew not to fight Moonhowler, or the near one-hundred-and-seventy year old dragon would tear them to pieces. Sansa and Sunbeam managed to nimbly dance around their attackers. But the Lannisters had two dragons for every one Stark dragon. They would need help.

 

The Stark soldiers on the ground would need to fight without the aid of dragons. Free of hinderance, the Lannister centre marched up the hill towards the main Stark forces. Though they had been surprised by the reveal of new dragons, Beric saw the lords and captains had kept their men in hand. The Lannisters advanced under a hail of arrows and magic with their shields raised, mostly protecting them.

 

“On my order, the first rank is to fire!” Beric drew his red Uru sword, the Forlorn Hope and held it aloft for all to see.

 

The men readied their Thunderers, placing them on their stands so they could take aim. Beric could heard the shouting Lannister men as they charged the last few yards into the Stark lines, lead by their Golden Legion.

 

They clashed with the singing of steel and screams of injured men.

 

“Steady men.” Captain Mainwaring said, calm as a cold stone. They waited for the Lannisters to push more and more.

 

“First rank, Fire!” Beric ordered. The sound of a hundred-and-forty Thunderers all being fired at once was deafening. They certainly lived up to their name. Fire and a great black cloud spewed forth from the barrels of the Thunderers, choking, blinding and deafening them.

 

They didn’t see what the shots did to the Lannister men, but they certainly heard it, once the ringing stopped. The screams of a thousand men having holes blown through them echoed across the field.

 

It didn’t take long for the smoke to clear, though it still stung Beric’s eyes. Through his watery gaze, he saw a mess of men and body parts. Legless men crawling back down the hill, men missing half their heads, their arms, screaming and crying for mercy.

 

Many Lannisters had no idea how many of their comrades and spontaneously combusted. It was a horror. But war was horrible and Beric was about to order the same again.

 

The first line knelt in the grass and began reloading, so the second rank had clear view.

 

“Second rank!” Beric shouted. “Fire!”

 

They were deafened and blinded again. Beric’s hearing came back quicker this time, he heard even more screams. The wind was blowing the smoke to the south, he hoped it might inhibit Lannister sight at least. The dragon-battle in the sky fell from his mind. There was only the Thunderers and their target.

 

On Beric’s order, the second rank knelt and the third rank fired. When the smoke cleared a third time, the Lannister foot soldiers had fallen back. They were retreating across the wet, muddy ground, slipping and sliding along the way. Beric was tempted to order his men fire on them, until he heard a rider’s horn.

 

“Seems they can see us, now.” Mainwaring said as he knelt next to him. Some of the Lannister mounted knights were charging towards them, armour shining in the sun.

 

“We knew it wasn’t going to last forever.” Beric muttered. “Forth and fifth ranks! On my command, fire on those riders!” Beric pointed towards the knights with the Forlorn Hope. The thundering hooves of the heavy cavalry grew louder and louder as they reached the hill and began to climb the slope.

 

“Fire!” He yelled, and two-hundred-and-forty Thunderers answered. They stopped the charge dead in it’s tracks. More than three hundred must have died in an instant. Men and horses screamed in pain when the shots struck home.

 

Clouds of red exploded from the less armoured men and horses, others were knocked back and trampled by those who charged behind them. A great wave of crushed bodies and mangled steel piled up on the hillside.

 

Rather than face that again, the knights further back turned and retreated back to the main Lannister force.

 

“Can’t imagine they’ll be charging at us again.” Mainwaring quipped.

 

“Recover!” Beric ordered as he stood, the three ranks of kneeling Winter Wolves rose behind him. He lifted his eyes to the sky. “Let’s see if we can find a way to shoot down-“ Beric was interrupted by a loud, shrill horn on the Lannister side.

 

After a bloody retreat, they were forming their lines again. A new structure had appeared nestled among Tywin’s reservists, covered in flags. That was where the sound was coming from. The wooden arms holding the flags moved, positioning themselves at odd angles, then moving to the next position, then the next. A dragon swerved away from Benjen on Winderfröst and started flying directly towards them.

 

Tywin’s giving them orders , Beric realised.

 

“To the sky!” Mainwaring shouted. “Lift your eyes, raise your Thunderers! We won’t get a second chance!”

 

“Not yet!” Beric ordered in response. “Your arms will tire if you hold them up now! We must wait to shoot until the last possible moment! If you miss, we all die!”

 

So they waited uneasily as the dragon flew across the battlefield, closer and closer. It was a young dragon, a good few years younger than Sansa’s. The target was small.

 

“Aim!” Beric ordered, seven-hundred Thunderers raised towards the dragon. He could see it’s jaw opening, it’s teeth sharp. Red fire was rising up it’s gullet when Beric shouted “Fire!”

 

The volume of the shots was only matched by the whine of the dragon when it was hit. It crumpled in the air and began to fall. Beric gripped his sword and dashed forward. The dragon landed just over twenty yards in front of the formation, pained whimpers escaping it’s maw.

 

It was a small thing.

 

Relatively.

 

Beric plunged his red uru longsword deep into the back of it’s skull, killing the dragon instantly. A man in pure gold armour, the dragon’s rider, leaped out from under the dragon’s wing, swiping at Beric with his axe.

 

The man was skilled, but nowhere near Beric’s level, and the fall had likely done him no favours. Beric killed him in three moves, blocking the first mad swing, then the second, allowing the momentum from his over committal on the second swing to impale the man with his sword.

 

A great cheer rumbled through the men behind him as Beric stood on the dragon corpse and looked over the battlefield. Osric’s dragon, Palewing, was wounded, being chased by three Lannister dragons. Beric prayed to the Old Gods that he would survive.

 

His prayers were quickly answered when Benjen, on Winderfröst came screaming from above, ripping the head off the leading dragon and scaring the other two off.

 

Those two dragons then turned and flew towards the main Stark forces on the larger hill. Arrows began to fly towards them, what few found their mark did little damage. Beric was a frozen spectator. The dragons were out of Thunderer range and the Stark dragons were trapped fighting off the other Lannister dragons.

 

Beric muttered another prayer to the Old Gods, but rarely did they answer two prayers in as many minutes. They had Triss and other mages to shield them on the main hill. But wards could only do so much against dragon fire.

 

The smaller dragon was skewered by four Giant arrows, but the larger of the two managed to dodge away, before breathing a great plum of fire across the left side of the Stark formation.

 

Their tightly back grouping had been a benefit in defence against men. There was only one way up that hill, and only one way down it. Now the benefits of their position proved to be their undoing.

 

A man can have trained all his life to resist fear, yet you’d have trouble finding a man who wouldn’t run from fire. Many broke formation and ran down the hill, either through fear, or because they were swept up in the stampede. It made little difference.

 

“Shit.” Beric swore as he watched thousands of northerners breaking formation, right in front of the remains of the Lannister centre and heavy cavalry. He knew someone had to go lead them.

 

Calling Roach, he ran back to the Winter Wolves and began barking out orders. “Captain Mainwaring, you have the command! Hold this hill!” He pointed the Forlorn Hope at the Lannister knights as they charged into the unready northerners. “And pepper those knights like a roasted boar!”

 

“Understood sir!” Mainwaring replied.

 

“Witchers!” Beric shouted to them as they mounted up, knowing what he was going to ask. “With me! We’ll cover the foot soldiers as they reform their lines!”

 

“We’re with you!” Grandmaster Samara answered him as she mounted her direwolf.

 

Beric turned Roach, and with a mighty howl, he lead them down the hill. Roach leaped over the the mound of horses from the previous charge with little issue, the other Witchers followed, swords in hand into the broiling mass of steel and flesh and split into small groups instantly.

 

It was a mess of men, no form, no lines. Men fought, killed, then moved onto the next, hoping that the mud hadn’t covered so much of their opponents that the couldn’t tell who was on which side. A crackling beam of golden energy cut across Beric’s view, vaporising all men in it’s path. It seemed Tywin had brought his Luminarks forward.

 

Beric had gone from having a view of the whole field, to only seeing a few dozen feet around him. A knight in very clean plate tried to ride across him, Beric ducked under his swing as Roach ripped the knight’s horse’s legs out from under it, then moved on.

 

A man-at-arms with a pike tried to spear him in the chest, Beric batted it aside with enough force to break the spear tip off. As Roach rushed forward, he took the man’s head off his shoulders.

 

An armoured lion made a swiping leap at Samara as she rode beside him, she ducked under it’s paw cut it’s belly open from neck to balls, drenching herself in lion guts.

 

Magnificent…

 

He remembered how she gave him mandatory stamina training for two hours every morning when she was training him to be a Witcher. Two hours of stamina training in her bedchambers. He had been the envy of every other Witcher student in the School of the Wolf.

 

A giant’s roar brought Beric back to the real world. It stumbled through groups of men, trampling all in it’s path. Most of it’s left side was on fire as it madly tried to run towards the river.

 

“Aard him!” He heard Samara and they both rushed to action. Together they used their Witcher signs to put out the burning giant, that only seemed to get more angry when it was no longer aflame, stomping a passing bull troll into a wet puddle.

 

“Search for banners!” Beric shouted.

 

“There!” Samara pointed to an Ice Guard banner, they rode to it, cutting and slashing their way through Lannister footmen that had advanced into the fray. When they reached the banner, they saw an Ice Guard shield wall defending against a number of trolls. Samara and Beric rode along the back of them, cutting them down as they tried to bash the shields.

 

“Captain!” Beric barked to the officer in charge. “Blow your horn and retreat slowly back up the hill. Have as many form up with you as you can!”

 

The officer nodded. “Form up!” He began to order, pulling his horn to his lips and blowing.

 

“Find any lord you can.” Beric shouted to Samara. “Tell them to rally to the Ice Guard banner. We need to reform our lines.”

 

Samara nodded and set off in one direction, Beric chose another. He searched for the leader of the Rangers, he needed them to rally back to formation. A roar and shadow overhead made Beric duck close to Roach. To his relief, it was Moonhowler, chasing a Lannister dragon.

 

Eventually he found Jaheira, captain of the Rangers and sister to Sylvie. She stood in a clearing of men, a dozen golden knights lying dead in the mud around her, her twin curved blades dancing with two more armoured knights. By the time Beric got to her, they had joined their comrades dead in the mud.

 

“Whaddya hear, Jaheira?” Beric shouted to her over the symphony of steal around them.

 

“Nothin’ but the rain.” She replied, nonchalantly wiping blood from her blades as a flight of arrows thrummed into the ground not three feet from where she stood. “How the fuck didn’t we know they had dragons?!”

 

“No time for that now.” Beric snapped. “We need to reform our lines! Find what Rangers you can and rally them to the Ice Guard banner! We need to bring the two parts of our armies together! Go!”

 

“Alright!” Jaheira answered him. “Just don’t get killed, Witcher.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beric laughed as he rode on. He found another enemy quickly, taking him from behind with a miss-timed downcut that sent a jolt of impact up his arm, but still killed the man.

 

Messy, but acceptable…

 

Roach stopped in his tracks as a headless horseman with a unicorn on his surcoat crossed their path, the horse running madly as the corpse somehow stayed in the saddle. Over the cacophony of battle, Beric heard screams that were familiar to him…

 

Ygritte.

 

He raced towards them, Roach bounding over or through men without issue. He found her slashing her axe down on a fallen troll’s head, as Ember, her wolf, ripped it’s arm off. A man in armour lay behind her, a winged helm sigil on his surcoat, his left arm burned badly. Beric remembered one of Ygritte and Val’s older brothers, Tytos was riding with them, commanding the Ryder foot.

 

He quickly dismounted Roach so he could cover for them and stormed over to Ygritte. She was still screaming in rage as she hacked at the dead troll.

 

“It’s already dead!” He shouted, grabbing her arm as it raised up. She wheeled round and punched him squarely in the jaw. Her enhanced strength rattled every tooth in his head.

 

Thankfully her eyes cleared and her rage dissipated when she saw him.

 

“Tytos!” She shouted and rushed to her brother, falling to her knees by his side. “Can you hear me!?” Tytos only gave a pained moan in response.

 

“Mount up and ride for the Thunderers.” Beric told her as he picked up Tytos. “Val’s there. They’ll have healers for his arm.”

 

Ygritte called Ember and mounted her before Beric put Tytos in her saddle. She uttered a quick thanks before she sped off up to the smaller hill. Beric took a breath to see the battle around him.

 

The Lannister cavalry had mostly been worn off by the Thunderers, all that seemed to remain where the Lannister reserves standing back and the foot soldiers slugging it out in the mud. A roar from overhead reminded Beric that the dragons were still an issue.

 

More northern horns were blowing than before, Beric saw his forces were slowly forming their lines again, their training remembered. The Lannister foot was doing the same, hoping for a rest as the two forces pulled apart, leaving stragglers on both sides. The Northern banners were retreating up to the hill where the ones who hadn’t originally run were advancing down to reinforce those that did.

 

Finally things are turning around.

 

Beric rode through the mass of men again, finding lords and captains, telling them to retreat to the hill, to form up again. He’d just ordered Harrion Karstark to take his spears back to the hill when he was set upon by three armoured lions. They knocked him from Roach and into the mud.

 

Though they took him by surprise, they fell relatively quickly. As he stood over their corpses, he heard a sarcastic clap behind him.

 

“Well done.” A tone so overconfident that it could only come from a Lannister.

 

He whirled and saw a helmet-less man in Lannister armour with golden hair and green eyes, wearing a Witcher medallion, sword in hand.

 

“Tygett, I presume.”

 

“Oh, the songs they’ll write about me, after I kill you. I wonder what they’ll call me.” He chuckled. “Wolfsbane?”

 

“Your sister has asked us to spare any of her family we find.” Beric said, evenly. “As she’s good woman and a great fuck, I plan not to disappoint her.”

 

“What do you say of my sister?” Tygett fumed, pointing his sword at Beric.

 

“That she’s a great fuck.” He answered honestly. “She has a body built for sin and the enthusiasm of a lusty wench.”

 

Tygett roared in a fury and aimed an overhead slash and Beric’s head. He side-stepped, crouched and brought his pommel down onto Tygett’s bent knee, hearing a crunch. Tygett grunted in pain and Beric rolled away and rose to his feet.

 

Then came a relentless assault, cutting high, then low, then a point thrust. Though it seemed he was hampered by his injured knee. Tygett was certainly quick, there was no denying his strength and skill. Yet he let his anger get the better of him, it seemed.

 

Beric thought back to his lessons with Samara. “You must learn to rule your feelings, lest they rule you.” Giving into anger clouds one’s judgment.

 

“A Witcher should keep a tighter grip on himself.” Beric told Tygett as he ducked under one blow, and parried another. “If you were thinking properly right now,” Tygett rushed forward, trying to push him over, but Beric spun to the side and Tygett missed him entirely, stumbling on his weakened knee into a particularly deep and wet patch of mud.

 

Beric used Aard to knock him on his arse, the Lannister fell with a wet squelch.

 

“You’d notice that I was drawing you into a trap.” He finished, pressing his sword point to Tygett’s neck. “Do you yield?”

 

Tygett gritted his teeth and looked like he understood how foolish he was. “…Yes.” He mumbled.

 

“You are now my prisoner.” Beric helped him out of the mud. “And I wasn’t lying about your sister.” He said earnestly. “She really is a great fuck.”

 

Tygett punched him. Strangely, Ygritte’s blow had hurt him more.

 

“You yielded…” Beric pointed his sword at the Lannister again when he recovered.

 

Tygett raised his hands. “Allow a man his brotherly duty.”

 

Beric rolled his eyes and called Roach, they both took in the battle field. It seemed the battle had left them both behind. The northerners had formed up again, bloodied but ready for more. The Lannisters were worse off, but not by too much.

 

It seemed like both forces were steadily retreating from each other. Most of the Lannister dragons had been scared off south, with some of the Stark dragons having to land behind their lines. Though in the distance, Beric could see Moonholwer flying after a smaller dragon.

 

“Seems your side is retreating, Tyggie.” Beric chuckled.

 

“Yours too.” Tygett retorted. “And don’t call me Tyggie.”

 

“Where the fuck did Tywin get dragons from?” Beric asked as he mounted his saddle.

 

Tygett set his face sternly. “Military secret. I can’t reveal that.”

 

“As you like.” Beric reach out and helped Tygett onto his saddle and began riding back to the Stark lines.

 

“What the fuck are those loud things that shoot fire and smoke?” Tygett asked as they passed the smaller hill.

 

Beric smirked. “Military secret. I can’t reveal that.”

 

Tygett’s groan conveyed just how much he regretted yielding.

 

 

********

 

 

Jon was in a rage as he flew after the last dragon. The battle hadn’t been a defeat, but it was not a victory either. Many lives had been lost and as it turned out, House Lannister had more dragons on the field than House Stark did!

 

He’d managed to chase one of the smaller dragons north, away from the rest of the Lannister forces. As soon as the battle begun, he’d tried to warg into the Lannister dragons and take control. They all seemed to be wearing jewelled headpieces that thrummed with magic, somehow blocking him from the dragon minds.

 

With warging blocked, they had no choice but to fight the Lannister dragons. They were smaller, yet there was many more of them. Jon remembered seeing Osric’s dragon taking more than a few wounds. They had tried to focus on Sansa too, but Jon had always been there to defend her with Moonhowler.

 

His dragon was a behemoth and as Jon himself was immune to burning, there was little the Lannister dragons could do to him. All dragons were immune to fire, but none of the enemy dragons were immune to the cold. He’d counted at least a dozen dragons when they first appeared, and four of them had died in the battle.

 

He needed to capture the last dragonrider. He needed to know if the Lannisters had other dragons. The smaller dragon had a wounded wing. It was flying closer and closer to the treetops. Jon hurled a fireball or two from above, they hit the dragon and it cried out under the force of the blows. It was young and lacked the stamina for battle. Eventually it fell to the earth, exhausted, it’s rider thrown from it’s back.

 

Moonhowler set down next to it, putting a foot on the tired younger dragon. Jon leaped from his dragon and pulled off the jewelled headpiece. With it’s mind unprotected, sending it to sleep was easy.

 

Then Jon was left with the man in the golden armour. He was short and clearly winded after the fall. He stumbled to his feet, looked at Jon, then his dragon, then he started running in the other direction.

 

“Hey! Stop!” Jon shouted as he broke into a sprint after him.

 

Jon quickly caught up, tackling them man in gold to the ground. They rolled together, eventually Jon was on top, he held one arm down and got the other beneath his knee. Jon raised his free hand, a ball of fire coalescing in it.

 

“I could burn your fucking head off.” He said. “Yield.”

 

The man kept struggling. Jon ripped off the man’s helmet and was met with a surprise. The man was not a man at all. He was a woman. Quite a beautiful woman, with distinctly Valyrian features.

 

“Who are you?”

Notes:

So here we are again. One year ago today, I posted the first chapter of WWC. It started as a pale imitation of other Strong North works, but has grown large in it’s own right.

In the twelve months since this fic began, it has had 20 chapters of story, just under 250,000 words written, nearly 120,000 hits, over 750 comments, over 775 kudos’ and over 270 bookmarks. All that alongside an active Discord server with over 300 members. If you had told me a year ago that WWC would have numbers this big, I wouldn’t have believed you in a million years. But it isn’t about the numbers. What matters to me is that there are people all around the world who enjoy my silly little writings.

So, in that spirit. Here’s to you, one and all. Readers who’ve just stumbled on my fic today and those who’ve been here from the beginning. If not for you, I doubt I would have written this much.

Thank you.

As ever, please like, follow and subscribe for more of this content. If the mood takes you, why not join our Discord server?

There are many benefits including: pictures of the characters, background lore for WWC, family trees and maps of WWC Westeros, easily asking questions about the fic and much more!

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Until we meet again, next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 25: Chapter 20

Whether it was some small portion of good luck he had finally earned, or the will of the gods, Ned did not know, but Arthur had been right. There was an island on the horizon. Ned formed two paddles of ice, giving one to Arthur. They began to row their way closer to salvation. In their weakened state, they didn’t reach it until the sun was hanging low in the sky.

 

They stumbled from their small ice-boat, exhausted, casting long shadows over the beach. After days spent on the sea without food, their legs were less than reliable on dry land. Ned and Arthur did not want to be swept away by the rising tide as they slept, so they stumbled like newborn fauns across the sand towards the trees and grass illuminated in the dying light of the sun as it slipped into the sea.

 

Neither said any words when they reached the grass. They only slept.

 

Ned was woken silently by Arthur, who pointed to the tree above them. A particularly large albatross was grooming itself on one of the higher branches. Making for a very tempting target. A small ice spike won them their first meal in a week.

 

“I think I might be the first Sword of the Morning to use Dawn in this way.” Arthur said between mouthfuls of either underdone, or overdone bird meat. They had laid Dawn over a small fire of driftwood and fallen branches, cut the meat into strips and used the heated greatsword to cook their food.

 

“I imagine your house will forgive you.” Ned took another bite. “Given the circumstances.”

 

Both men gazed out over the calm sea as the sun was rising. Now that they’d been rested and managed some food, they saw that there were a number of other islands not too far from the one they were on.

 

Forgetting for a moment, the manner of their arrival, Ned was having difficulty finding fault with their location. Nice weather, beautiful views… It was paradise.

 

“Any idea where we are?” Arthur ventured.

 

“I thought perhaps we might in the Stepstones.” Ned answered.

 

Arthur shook his head. “If we were, we’d be seeing Essos to the east.” He pointed towards the sunrise, seeing only open ocean.

 

“Indeed.” Ned contemplated for a moment. “The warm weather tells me we’re in the Summer Sea, but we must have drifted far indeed if that was the case.”

 

“You think we’ve floated all the way to the Summer Isles?”

 

“I don’t know where we are.”

 

“Wherever it is, we cannot stay.”

 

“So we must reach higher ground.” Ned finished his bird meat and began to stand. “At least we’ll be able to see more.”

 

Ned’s legs were stiff and cumbersome as they began to make their way up the slope further inland. He longed for his bed and the feeling of his wives next to him. With Foesmasher in hand and Ice floating behind him, Ned forded a path through the vegetation.

 

The air grew thicker as they went further in, quickly becoming a dense jungle. Ned had read about jungles in Winterfell’s library, they were abundant in Essos with it’s warmer climate. Westeros generally only had woods and forests, with great old oaks reaching towards the sky. Not like this place, where the trees twisted around each other and long, grasping vines hung from every branch.

 

Ned found himself thinking the island was decidedly less like paradise than he had originally thought. The greenery became so dense that Arthur had to resort to cutting them a path with Dawn, another slight to the pedigree of house Dayne.

 

“Plants are somewhat easier to fell, than men. Perhaps I should take up gardening.” Arthur quipped, dispatching his latest green opponent with grace and poise.

 

“No doubt you’d be the finest hedge trimmer in the North.” Ned answered, walking behind him. Then he heard something. “Quiet.” He whispered, pulling Arthur down into a crouch. Arthur silently obeyed. The pair stayed in silence for a few moments.

 

Then they heard it.

 

Laughter.

 

A woman’s laughter. Coming from ahead of them, to the left.

 

Ned looked to Arthur for assurance that the former King’s Guard had heard the sound too, then they both made their way forward, quietly so as not to alert whoever it was. They could be salvation or damnation, but the prospect of finding help far outweighed Ned and Arthur’s pessimism.

 

In a few dozen heartbeats, they saw a clearing ahead, with a clear blue pool in the middle, fed by a waterfall. Taking position behind a large tree, Ned and Arthur peered into the clearing. For a moment, Ned was reminded of how he’d wandered across Sylvie bathing in the godswood pools before he went off to the Vale. It wasn’t too long after that when she made a man of him.

 

Ned would never admit it, but the vision he found himself confronted with was a sight far greater than Sylvie alone. Three of the most gorgeous women Ned had ever seen were bathing in the pool’s clear blue waters.

 

It was almost as if he had strayed into a dream.

 

Perhaps this is paradise after all…

 

The three women looked like they’d been sculpted from marble by the gods of war and beauty, with rippling muscles and abundant curves. Two of them were standing together in the centre of the water, while the other stood beneath the small waterfall.

 

One was pale with flaming red hair gathered in a braid that went past her arse. The second was darker than any woman Ned had met previously, a mess of jet black curls tied together on top of her head.

 

The third woman made the other two look like small candles next to the rising sun, a goddess made flesh as she bathed under the waterfall. Her well-tanned skin was a shade lighter than Ashara’s, perfect and rich. While all three women were exceedingly well endowed, the third woman was near a match for Cat’s mighty breasts, beating even Mellario and Arianne.

 

Forcing himself to focus, Ned listened to what they were saying. “She bathes like Aphrodite…” The red haired woman said, nodding towards the woman under the waterfall. “Gods, she’s killing me…”

 

“I thought she and Kasia…?” The dark skinned woman asked.

 

“And Meghara and Evrayle and Aresia…” The red haired woman seemed in awe. “I heard she had them screaming and moaning from dusk till dawn. Then sent them limping from her chambers with a kiss and a smack on the arse.”

 

“Probably best if we remove ourselves from this juvenile fantasy.” Ned heard Arthur whispering to him. “I doubt we’ll find much help here.”

 

Unfortunately, Ned could only agree with Arthur. Two armed and bedraggled men showing themselves to three women as they were bathing would likely not end in their favour. He pried his eyes away from the beautiful, nude women and they both crept back along the path they came from.

 

“At least we now know there are other people on the island.” Ned whispered.

 

“Yes.” Arthur chuckled. “Six at the very least…”

 

It was a few more paces before Ned heard the distinct sound of a twig snapping underfoot. Both he and Arthur froze, hoping that their presence was still unknown. One heartbeat. Two. Three…

 

Just when Ned let out a sigh of relief, the three warrior women they’d been watching sprang from the bushes with a war cry. All three still naked from their bathing. Ned only just managed to roll out of the way before one of them landed on him.

 

The woman with red hair kicked Dawn from Arthur’s hand as the dark skinned one kicked him in the stomach, sending him back several feet. So these women are strong… Ned thought as the third woman swung a glowing golden whip in his direction. He rolled out of the way and It landed with a thunderous Crack! Of magical energy.

 

“Don’t kill them!” Ned shouted to Arthur, who was in the process of summoning Dawn to his grasp.

 

“Why don’t you tell them that!” Arthur replied as he punched one of the warrior women.

 

Ned’s distraction cost him and he felt a warm tingling along his arm. The glowing golden rope had snaked around his limb.

 

“Drop the hammer!” The woman who held the rope commanded. Ned felt a sudden need to loosen his grip and let the hammer fall. He knew what was happening, magical suggestion was not an entirely foreign concept to him. Resisting the command sent a searing pain through his one good arm. “The Lasso of Truth compels you to follow my commands. So drop your hammer.” The woman ordered. Ned could not resist any longer and the hammer fell from his grasp.

 

A satisfied smirk spread across the woman’s features as she stood before him. She thought he was beaten. Before she could react, Ned grabbed hold of the golden rope and pulled it as hard as he could. The surprise caught the woman off balance, making her stumble forwards. Ned rushed to meet her, stretching out his arm to the side. He knocked her clear off her feet as he dashed forward, catching her under the chin with his forearm. The rope loosened, uncoiled from his arm and fell to the ground.

 

Ned saw Arthur was struggling against the two warrior women. One was clinging to his back, her arms and legs wrapped around him as the other landed kicks on his shins. Ned stepped towards them, hoping to aid his good-brother, but was waylaid when his own opponent flipped back to her feet in a defensive stance.

 

“Perhaps I underestimated you.” She chuckled. “You’re not quite as harmless as you look.”

 

Ned tried to duck around her, aiming for Arthur, but she kicked him flying back into the trunk of a tree. The force of the collision rattled every tooth in Ned’s mouth, making leaves fall from the branches of the tree as they shook.

 

With a cry, she leapt forward, fist clenched aiming to punch a hole through Ned’s chest. At the last moment, he dodged to the side and the woman took out half of a section of the tree trunk. Bark and wooden splinters exploded from the tree, the wood groaning as the tree could no longer hold up it’s own weight and fell to the earth.

 

Ned blocked her next fist with the back of his hand, thanking the gods that he’d learned the art of unarmed combat from the monastic druids of the North. Though that training could only go so far in the face of only having one arm and his opponent seemingly being as skilled a fighter as him, certainly as strong.

 

Marshalling his knowledge and experience, Ned waited for the right moment. Allowing her to attack him. Giving her time to make a mistake. Eventually he found his opening when she got too close and head-butted the beautiful woman, sending her stumbling back.

 

“I don’t want to fight you.” Ned huffed, breathing heavily. Days without food adrift on the sea had taken their toll on him, he wouldn’t be able to keep fighting much longer.

 

The woman regained her footing, eyeing him ruefully. “Then you shouldn’t have trespassed on our land.”

 

“We didn’t know it was your land.” Ned answered.

 

“Ignorance is no excuse.” She lunged at him again.

 

Ned was hit harder than he’d ever been hit before. Whoever these women were, they clearly had access to strong magical enhancements. Perhaps even stronger than those the Ice Guard received.

 

Focused on his own fight, Ned lost track of Arthur quickly. He hoped he was managing without his help. Ice and Foesmasher tugged at his perception, begging leave to be used against his foes, but Ned did not heed them. He still had hope that they didn’t have to kill their way across the island to get what they needed.

 

Ned tried to give as good as he got, yet he could only give so much with one hand. A heeled kick to his stomach sent him flying through another tree, pieces of wood flying everywhere as the tree fell to earth.

 

Even as he was fighting her, Ned could tell his opponent was nothing short of magnificent. She fought him fully nude, fighting hand to hand without shame. Her body was a finely tuned instrument meant for combat.

 

Quick and deadly.

 

A block that wasn’t fast enough lead to Ned’s nose being broken.

 

An overextended kick lead to a blow that felt like it near shattered his knee.

 

The main advantage Ned could find was that he was stronger than her, which he tried to use to his advantage as often as he could. She was also over confident, taunting him as they fought. She saw his one arm and bedraggled appearance and thought him weak.

 

He found a chance to prove her wrong when he gripped her by her long loose black hair, swung her over his head as she gave an undignified shriek and slammed her into the ground behind him, dazing her.

 

Ned carried through the motion, using the momentum to slam her into the ground in front of him, then behind again. Then again, and again, leaving craters where she landed. The ground began to shake at the repeated impacts of her body.

 

After the sixth time Ned slammed her into the ground, she was limp, unconscious, being held up only by Ned’s grip on her hair. He let go and she flopped face down onto the ground.

 

His arm aching, one eye almost swollen shut and worn out beyond belief, Ned set off to find Arthur. All he needed to do was follow the sound of the fight.

 

He found them quickly enough. All three combatants were bloodied and bruised, though Arthur was in a somewhat worse state. Seeing they were preoccupied, Ned used it to his advantage. He snuck up behind the red haired woman and hit her on the back of the head with all his might.

 

To his surprise, she fell instantly. It seemed the other two women were not only beaten by the third in beauty, but also strength. Alone against Ned and Arthur, the dark skinned warrior woman was subdued quickly.

 

“Well this is a fine mess…” Arthur panted as they stood over their battered opponents. “They’ll likely attack us again when they wake.”

 

“Then lets leave them behind.”

 

“They could track us.”

 

“Then lets tie them up and question them.” Ned said, remembering the golden rope that one of them used to bind him. They quickly got all three women together in the clearing by the pool, tying their hands and feet with the golden rope. It seemed to grow and shrink as they needed it.

 

“Lyanna would love this…” Arthur said as he bound the last of the women. Thankfully there seemed to be no one else around, so Ned and Arthur decided to wash themselves as they waited for the women to wake.

 

When they entered the waters, they both felt a strange warmth come over them. Ned saw Arthur healing before his very eyes as he washed himself in the water. He even felt his nose move back into shape as the swelling in his eye subsided. Both men stared at each other in amazement.

 

“Where the hell are we…” Arthur uttered in disbelief. It was certainly strange. “Have you ever heard of magic like this before?”

 

“No.” Ned said. “They say the waters of Winterfell have healing and fertility properties, but nothing like this.”

 

“Seems we need to ask our lady friends over there.” Arthur said, nodding towards the women.

 

“We should heal them too.” Ned said, forming a bucket of ice in his hand, he scooped up the magical healing waters and dumped it on all three of the women. They all spluttered awake quickly, straining against their binds as their wounds healed in seconds. Ned took a tight grip of the golden rope and it began to glow.

 

“What are your names?” Ned asked, feeling the rope humming in his hand. The three women tried to stifle their voices for a few moments as they struggled against their bonds before relenting.

 

“I am Artemis.” The red haired woman spoke first.

 

“I am Nubia.” Then the dark skinned one.

 

“And I am Diana.” The third woman fixed him with a steely gaze, sharp grey eyes staring up at him defiantly.

 

“Where are we?” Arthur asked next. None of the women responded.

 

“I think I have to be the one to ask them.” Ned turned back to Arthur.

 

“You do.” Nubia answered him.

 

“Then where are we?” Ned echoed Arthur.

 

“Ikaria, the healing island.” Diana stated, shortly.

 

“Are there more of you?” Ned asked.

 

“Yes.” Artemis replied stubbornly. Refusing to give any more than what was asked.

 

“How many more.”

 

“Tens of thousands.” Nubia answered confidently.

 

Ned gave Arthur a concerned look. This likely didn’t bode well for them. “Could you take us to them?”

 

“Yes.” Diana answered.

 

“Will you?”

 

“You would have to order us to.”

 

“We do not want to fight you. Please take us to the rest of your people.” The three women tried to get to their feet, not an easy thing considering their hands and feet were bound. Ned and Arthur helped them up and they began to shuffle in one direction.

 

“This would be easier if you loosed out ties.” Nubia said.

 

“If we did that, would you attack us?” Ned knew the answer.

 

“Yes.” Artemis replied quickly.

 

“Then your bonds shall remain.” Arthur said, pointing Dawn towards Artemis.

 

“Do you think our sisters will take kindly to you parading us naked before them?” Diana snarked as she shuffled forwards.

 

“We couldn’t find anything to drape you with.” Ned admitted. “And from what i’ve seen of your people, I’d rather have a hostage if they come across us.”

 

“You think holding us will help you?” Nubia asked.

 

“It may give your sisters a reason not to attack us outright.” Arthur said. “And if not, then you might prove a good distraction as we bravely run for our lives.”

 

Eventually the three women stopped shuffling when they stood before a stone circle protruding from the ground. The stones were covered in glyphs, with a large blue gem set into the capstone at the top of the circle. Like most things Ned had found in his short time in this enchanted place, a faint smell of magic permeated through the area.

 

“I don’t see the thousands of people you referred to.” Arthur said. Diana gave him a cold look that made Ned think of Lyanna for some reason.

 

“This is a way gate.” She said sternly, reaching out and touching a number of the glyphs. To Ned’s surprise, they began to glow blue once they felt Diana’s touch. “We use them to travel between the islands.”

 

“How many islands?” Ned asked, still holding the golden rope.

 

“Over one hundred of our islands have way gates on them.” Nubia explained. “With maybe two hundred more that don’t. We use boats to reach those islands.”

 

“Can these gates take us to parts of islands that are uninhabited?” Ned asked.

 

“Yes.” Diana answered as she manipulated the way gate stones.

 

“Then we want to go somewhere quiet, so we can get our bearings.” In a few moments, a swirling blue vortex formed inside the stone circle. A strong wind began to blow around the gate as magical energy crackled through the air. “You go first.” Ned ordered, making sure it was not a death trap. When the three women walked through the vortex without hesitation, Ned and Arthur followed them.

 

One moment Ned was by a pool surrounded by trees, the next he was standing in the middle of a marble forum with Arthur, their three captives and hundreds of other women all looking at them in surprise.

 

Fuck…

 

Ned and Arthur turned back to the gate but it was already closed, exposing them on all sides. After a few moments there were shouts and horns being blown. Moments later several dozen women all armed with shields, spears, breast plates and helmets surrounded them, pointing their spears towards Ned and Arthur.

 

“You were a fool to follow us.” Diana smiled over her shoulder at them. “And now you will die.”

 

“I told you to take us somewhere quiet.” Ned seethed.

 

Diana, who only laughed. “You only said you wanted it, not that we had to take you there.”

 

“A subtle, yet important difference.” Artemis laughed. “I will enjoy watching you bleed to death on the forum floor.”

 

Ned and Arthur tried to use their captives to shield themselves from the spears. Many voices were shouting at them, telling them to lay down their arms and release their prisoners. Strangely, Ned noted, he didn’t hear a single male voice among them. It seemed perhaps the island was entirely populated by women.

 

“Seems we’ll have to kill our way to some ships after all.” Arthur said sadly, readying himself with Dawn in hand.

 

Soon all the other shouting died away, leaving only one clear voice giving commands. “Lay down you arms, and you will not be harmed.” The voice rang out, powerful and melodic at the same time. Ned could almost imagine it singing a ballad.

 

“This one was just telling us that we’ll be dying either way.” Ned answered the woman.

 

“My oldest daughter is often a little too eager for violence.” The voice replied. Ned poked his head out from behind Diana, wanting to see who he was talking to. He saw a tall regal woman, beautiful, like all others who seemed to inhabit this land. She had golden hair wearing a crown and a dark purple dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Dorne. The woman wore a distinctly shocked look on her face when she locked eyes with him.

 

“Brandon…” He heard her whisper breathlessly with his enhanced hearing. “What are your names?” She demanded, striding towards them, confusing Ned more by the moment.

 

“I am Arthur Dayne.” Arthur offered first, clearly not what the woman was looking for.

 

“I am Eddard Stark.” Ned said as a wave of murmurs when through the crowd of women that surrounded them.

 

“…Stark?” Diana turned back to him in shock. Furthering Ned’s confusion, the guards who were pointing spears at him moments earlier suddenly lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in deference.

 

“Eddard Stark…” The blonde woman gave an easy smile as she sauntered forwards, any worry she might have felt at the situation quickly left her. “I am Hippolyta, Queen of Themyscira… Brandon might have mentioned me.”

 

Ned was shocked to say the least. He remembered reading tales of the Amazons of Themyscira in Winterfell’s great library when he was younger, stories one of the ancient Kings of Winter Brandon Stark ‘The Lusty Wolf’ had told when he had returned to the North after one of his many adventures.

 

No one had ever found Themyscira, not even the Lusty Wolf after he had left it, so in the centuries after Brandon’s death, historians had begun to doubt that it ever even existed in the first place. Yet here Ned stood, as if the story had leapt from the page and took form around him. He was talking to Hippolyta. The Hippolyta. One of the Lusty Wolf’s many wives…

 

“The Lusty Wolf lived… Thousands of years ago…” Ned said, releasing his hold on the golden rope that bound his hostages.

 

Hippolyta nodded, a sudden sadness fell on her face for a few moments. “Yes… He would be long dead by now…”

 

“I’m confused...” Arthur said, looking from Hippolyta to Ned. “What’s happening here?”

 

“A Stark king from ages past told tales of a land he had found on one of his many travels.” Ned explained. “He was called the Lusty Wolf-“

 

“-Well that could have been any Stark.” Arthur interrupted him with a sarcastic remark.

 

Ned gave him a look and continued. “He said the land was populated entirely by beautiful women with a Queen called Hippolyta, the most beautiful of them all.”

 

Hippolyta lightly blushed and bowed her head. “Brandon always was a flatterer.”

 

“If he was from thousands of years ago, how are you still alive?” Arthur asked. It was a fair question. Hippolyta would be thousands of years old, yet she looked younger than Ned.

 

“Time moves strangely on Themyscira.” Hippolyta answered him. “And even then, there is a magical fountain that we bathe in and drink from. It keeps us young and strong.”

 

“It certainly does that...” Arthur said, looking over the beautiful, muscular women that surrounded them.

 

Ned remembered the Lusty Wolf had written about the fountain in his books. It was difficult to believe magic that powerful existed in the mortal world. Yet it would explain why the Lusty Wolf and his wives all lived to be older than two hundred, drinking from the fountain had clearly extended their lives.

 

“Now that we all know who we are.” Hippolyta said. “You have my word that you will not be harmed and I would be eternally grateful to you if you would release my daughter.”

 

It was then that Ned realised he had beaten a Princess and was currently parading her naked in front of her people, including her own mother. He and Arthur untied Diana, Nubia and Artemis, who to their surprise made no effort to cover themselves, in spite of be surrounded by a crowd of hundreds.

 

“We are not so inhibited with our bodies in Themyscira.” Diana stated, seeing their confusion.

 

“Clearly.” Ned observed.

 

“If you don’t mind my asking, Eddard Stark.” Hippolyta said, walking closer to Ned. “How did you arrive here? And with my oldest daughter in this…” she gestured to Diana’s naked body. “State.”

 

“It’s certainly a long story…” Ned said, before he told them the tale. Of the his and Arthur’s imprisonment in King’s Landing, their escape, the shipwreck and how they happened upon Diana.

 

“Well that is quite a tale.” Hippolyta said when Ned was finished. “You must be tired. I will have rooms, food and baths prepared for you.”

 

“I would rather you explained why you would be so accommodating to us.” Arthur said. “You knew a Stark from ages past. What does that have to do with us here and now?”

 

“Let me show you.” Hippolyta indicated to marble stairs on the other side of the forum. She lead them all up the stairs to a beautiful white marble structure, with a roof held up my dozens of stone pillars. When they entered the hall, Ned saw a massive ornately painted wall fifteen feet tall and forty feet long.

 

“The Amazons of Themyscira were not always as we are now.” Hippolyta began. “The male gods of our pantheon mistreated us. They made us their whores.” She indicated to the far left of the wall, showing the Amazons as they were under their cruel gods. “They used us. And they used our daughters, and their daughters.”

 

“What did they do with the sons?” Ned was almost afraid to ask.

 

“Amazons are incapable of birthing sons.” Hippolyta answered him. “Another thing we can thank our old gods for. They told us they wanted more whores, not more rivals.”

 

“And how did you escape from the yoke of these cruel gods?” Arthur asked.

 

“Brandon...” Hippolyta pointed towards a man in the centre of the wall. Ned could tell he had the Stark look, with a long face and dark hair. “Our female gods weren’t treated much better by their male counterparts, so they made plans to depose them. It is said that they went to far off pantheons in search of one who would aid them. Your Old Gods answered. Freya and Fenric sent their champion to aid us.” Hippolyta pointed towards a large battle at the far end of the wall. “Together Starks, Amazons and gods fought against evil and vanquished it, killing all the male gods of our pantheon. The goddess Hera now presides over Themyscira’s pantheon as I preside over Themyscira.” Hippolyta finished.

 

“These details weren’t in the books I read in Winterfell.” Ned admitted.

 

“Yes, I think I know what Brandon would have written about.” Hippolyta laughed. “Come, that is depicted on the other side of the wall.” She lead them around and Ned saw… In all honesty what he expected to see. The Lusty Wolf stood in a sea of writhing bodies, all nude, all beautiful. “For his valour and his help, he was declared the first King of Themyscira. He celebrated by fucking every one of us.” Hippolyta smiled, enjoying the memories. “Goddesses and Amazons alike. He near doubled Themyscira’s population, even blessing me with my Diana, whom you have already met.” Hipployta indicated towards her daughter, who was standing beside Ned, still completely naked an unashamed. Looking at her now, Ned could recognise some Lyanna in her. It seemed the Stark seed was strong indeed.

 

“I can trace my lineage back to the Lusty Wolf as well. Though my family line is probably a lot longer than yours” Ned japed.

 

“I suppose I would be your aunt then.” Diana guessed. “Only… removed by several hundred generations...”

 

“You didn’t mention who the current King of Winter is when you told us what happened to you.” Hippolyta said.

 

“That’s another long story.” Arthur chuckled under his breath.

 

“Uh, times have changed somewhat since Brandon’s time.” Ned admitted. “But I am the current Stark of Starks.”

 

Another murmur when the the crowd of Amazons that was around them. They looked at Ned in awe, even Hippolyta seemed surprised, and just maybe a little excited.

 

“You are tired and hungry.” She finally said. “Eat, wash, sleep. I must have words with Themyscira’s council. We have much to discuss…”

 

So he and Arthur were whisked away to separate chambers where food was laid out for them and large heated baths set into the floor lay waiting. Given that all Ned had to eat recently had been poorly done Albatross cooked on the flat of a greatsword, bread, cheese and water would have looked a feast to Ned’s eyes.

 

Yet the food laid out for Ned would have been enough to feed a family of ten: a great seasoned pig with an apple in it’s mouth, honey glazed prawns alongside entire schools of fish, fruits and vegetables lined the table from one end to the other, with olives and figs and eggs and cheeses of all kinds.

 

The well-raised, well-educated, dignified, Princely Eddard Stark would like to pretend that when faced with such a meal, he would not resort to his baser instincts and instead eat in a manner befitting his station.

 

That did not happen.

 

If he were there, Rickon would have eaten that food in a more dignified manner than Ned did.

 

An eternity later, when Ned finally felt like he had eaten his fill, he moved from the table to the steaming bath, removing his rags as he went in. After eating his meal like a beast, Ned was in even greater need of a wash.

 

Ned was relaxing in the large bath, floating on his back when he heard the door open. He looked up and saw Hippolyta walking into the hall, completely nude. Ned was caught in a trance where he was both shocked and completely unsurprised.

 

Much like her daughter, Hippolyta had a body that was built by the gods of war and beauty. She was as toned and muscular as Diana, while also possessing divine curves and a figure that would turn men mad, with pale, creamy unblemished skin. Long, muscled legs lead up to thick thighs and a small patch of blonde curls at their junction. A tiny waist sat on wide, child-bearing hips. Her stomach was flat and corded with muscle leading up to a chest that had two huge melon-sized breasts sitting high in defiance of age and nature with small rosy nipples. Further still was one of the most beautiful faces Ned had ever seen, with elegant features, high cheekbones and dazzling blue eyes. Hippolyta still wore her crown, nestled in her golden locks, that fell loosely past her shoulders.

 

“I hope i’m not intruding.” She smirked, sauntering to the bath and submerging into the warm water.

 

“It’s your island.” Ned said, swimming over to her.

 

“That’s what I wished to talk to you about.” Hippolyta blushed slightly. “Brandon was the last king of Themyscira. With his passing, his titles passed to his heir and after that eventually to you…”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“At my recommendation, the council has decreed that you are to be the new King of Themyscira, as all of Brandon’s titles pass to you. You will be crowned on the morrow.” Ned was stunned. At the beginning of the day, he lay starving on a beach. Now he was to be declared a King. “That is not all.” Hippolyta continued, moving closer to him. “I was Brandon’s wife, his Queen. As all that once once his is now yours. I will also be your wife and Queen… It’ll be my duty and privilege to serve you.” With that, she pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she pressed her naked body against his.

 

“I am truly flattered.” Ned said between fervent kisses. “But I have other wives and a home to go back to.”

 

“So did Brandon.” Hippolyta giggled. “I would very much like to meet your wives too.” Her eyes fell to the stump of his left arm. “But first… I can help you with this.”

 

“I don’t understand how a smith will help me with my arm.” Ned said as Hippolyta lead him towards a woman hammering an anvil. She hadn’t even let him stop to dress himself when they left the bath. In fairness, Hippolyta hadn’t dressed herself either. Together they walked through Themyscria’s marble streets in the evening with the occasional curious looks from passers by. “Korra is the best spell-smith in all of Themyscira.” Hippolyta said, not explaining anything else. “Is everything prepared?” She asked the smith, who looked up and smiled when she saw them. She was a brown skinned woman with dark hair and light blue eyes, wearing a rough spun leather apron as she hammered away at steel.

 

“You bet, Queenie.” Korra answered, dropping what she was working on instantly. “I’ve been heating it for over an hour and spoken all the right spells… I think…” She strutted over to a furnace that housed a basin full of molten metal. Ned was surprised to see that the leather apron was the only piece of clothing Korra was wearing. That’s one way to combat the heat of the forge, Ned mused. Using her long iron tools, she took the basin out and place it on the ground.

 

“Right,” Korra addressed Ned. “Stick ya stump in the molten metal and you’ll have a new arm before you can say ‘Korra, you beautiful bitch! You’ve done it again!’”

 

“You have a very queer manner of speech…” Was all Ned could say in the moment.

 

“I get that a lot.” Korra gave him a toothy grin.

 

Ned was still confused. “You want me to… Put my stump in molten metal…?”

 

“Yea.” Korra answered, blankly.

 

“Won’t that hurt?”

 

“Do you think i’m a fucking amateur?” Korra seemed offended that Ned even asked. “Honestly, all the thanks I get for making you a new arm…”

 

“You underestimate the magic of the Amazons.” Hippolyta turned to Ned. “This is completely safe.”

 

“I’m glad I didn’t vote for you to be king now…” Korra sulked, leaning on a work bench.

 

“You don’t vote for kings, Korra.” Hippolyta told the grumpy spell-smith.

 

“That’s what i’m saying! I’m glad I didn’t vote for him!”

 

“I apologise for any offence I caused.” Ned tried to make amends. “I am unfamiliar with your work.”

 

“Well you’re gonna get familiar real quick.” Korra responded. “Now stick your stump in there before the metal cools.”

 

This is mad, Ned thought as he knelt down to the ground and leaned over the basin. Bracing himself for the pain, he leaned down and put his stump in the glowing hot metal. To his shock, it felt like nothing of the sort. If anything, it was pleasantly warm.

 

“Now wait.” Korra ordered. “Let the metal coalesce...”

 

After a few moments, Ned began to feel a weight on his stump. Since he had lost his arm, he had often felt a phantom limb in it’s place, but it was becoming more real by the moment.

 

“Should be done now.” Korra said and Ned rose to his feet. “Hot damn!” Korra cried, giving Hippolyta a loud smack on the arse. “I’m good aren’t I?”

 

Not quite believing it looked down and saw his new arm. It was much lighter than he thought a metal arm would be. An almost fluid silvery layer covered the new limb, the light from the furnace reflecting on the polished metal like a mirror. It felt just like a normal arm when Ned moved it from through the air. He clenched and unclenched his fist, testing the dexterity of his new hand.

 

“This is… incredible.” Ned choked out a laugh as he felt the new arm. It was surprisingly warm and soft to the touch. The metal felt like skin, like there were real muscles and bones beneath it. All Ned could do was admire his new limb, coming to terms with the fact that he could use two hands again.

 

“I believe you owe Korra a thank you.” Hippolyta smiled at Ned.

 

The words couldn’t leave his lips fast enough. “I don’t know how you did this, but I will never forget it. You have my eternal gratitude.”

 

“The gratitude of a king is a fine thing.” Korra chuckled. “Now lets talk about all the cool shit the arm can do.”

 

“It can do more?” Ned was bewildered, being able to perfectly replicate his previous arm was already far beyond what he had hoped for.

 

“Yea!” Korra nodded enthusiastically. “So the arm works by the metal forming to what you feel your arm to be.” She explained. “Your phantom limb has been given form. You can’t actually feel sensations with this new arm as it’s not got any nerves. Your mind’s just tricking you into thinking that you can feel things with it. The metal is reacting to what you think it should do. So… imagine you have claws.”

 

“What?”

 

“Do it. Close your eyes and will your claws into existence.”

 

Ned did as he was told. He remembered what it felt like to have claws in his wolf form. He felt them protruding from his fingers, eager to rend the flesh of his foes.

 

After a few moments of imagining, Ned opened his eyes and was astonished again. Long, sharp claws had sprouted from the ends of his fingers.

 

“You truly are miracle worker.” Ned said in amazement.

 

“Here, see if you can carve this.” Korra handed Ned a stone brick. He sunk his claws into the stone, gouging deep grooves along it’s length.

 

“I’m sure you can tell him all about what the arm can do later.” Hippolyta said, taking Ned by his flesh hand. “But i’m afraid our King will be indisposed for the rest of the night.”

 

And with that she quickly lead Ned all the way back to the palace, past his room and to Hippolyta’s.

 

With a smirk, she pushed him back onto the bed after they entered her chambers. His legs draped over the edge as he sank into the soft mattress. Ned gazed up in wonder at the image of divine beauty that stood before him with a hand on her hip.

 

“Gods… I’ve been waiting for another Stark for so long…” Hippolyta said as she sank to her knees between his legs. His cock quickly began to inflate at the sight of her two melon-breasts in such close proximity to it. So large, yet firmer and higher than any Ned had seen before.

 

“I’m happy to fulfil any needs you require.” Ned chuckled.

 

His cock twitched when she put her fingers around it, taking a firm grasp of his member. Ned was throbbing as Hippolyta slowly jerked him to his full twelve inches. The clear liquid of his pre-seed began to leak from the end. She licked her lips, leaned down and dragged her tongue along the tip of Ned’s cock, drawing a deep groan from his chest.

 

“Mmmm.” She moaned. “Delicious.” Her fingers silkily danced up and down his throbbing cock as she savoured the taste of his seed.

 

“If you truly think that, I’d have thought you’d want another taste.” Ned said in a strained voice as she continued to jerk his cock.

 

“Oh believe me.” Hippolyta giggled. “I intend to enjoy every inch of this magnificent phallus. Cocks are such a rare find on Themyscira, especially one of this caliber. I shall savour it like a rare treat.”

 

With that, she gave Ned’s cock-head a big wet kiss, lavishing it with her tongue. Hippolyta kissed up and down the length of his shaft, lavishing every inch of it with her tongue, using it to trace the veins along it’s length.

 

Eventually she made her way back to his tip, sealing her lips around his cock-head, swirling her tongue around it at a dizzying speeds as she sucked on him hard. Her hands were not idle as her mouth went to work. Her right hand continued to pump his length, gaining speed, setting a quick rhythm. Her left began caressing Ned’s balls, cupping and massaging them gently.

 

Ned could only moan and lay back under such a pleasurable assault. He bucked his hips a few times, chasing the feeling of Hippolyta’s mouth around him. Ned could feel the vibrations of her mouth as she laughed, gazing up at him with her dazzlingly clear blue eyes. Every moan she gave as she pleasured him only drove him further into a lust filled madness.

 

Threading his metal fingers through her golden locks, Ned took a firm grasp of her hair. Hippolyta understood what he wanted immediately. To take control. Her hands left his cock and went to his knees, bracing herself for what was to come. She began sucking even harder than before, the corners of her mouth forming a slight smirk around his shaft.

 

“Breath deep now.” Ned said as he pulled her head further down his cock, thrusting up with his hips.

 

He began slowly, not wanting to choke the Queen instantly. He eased into her mouth slowly, but forcefully. An inch at a time. She went just over eight inches down before she began to choke, her throat bulging around his shaft. Ned held her there, choking on him until her face began to go red, then he released her. She shot off his cock, coughing as she tried to gulp down breaths of air, a string of saliva connecting her lip to his cock.

 

Panting, Hippolyta rested her head against his thigh, his cock laying along her face. “Gods… I’ve missed choking on the Stark cock.” She laughed, breathlessly.

 

“You do it better than most.” Ned told her, stroking her sweaty hair away from her face.

 

“I’m out of practice.” Hippolyta admitted. “I used to be able to take all twelve inches of the Stark cock with ease.”

 

Ned took his shaft in one hand and her hair in the other. “Then perhaps you should practice some more.”

 

Hippolyta opened her mouth to answer him, but Ned didn’t give her the chance. He shoved his cock passed her lips and began bobbing her head up and down the shaft. She instinctively began sucking him hard, lathering his throbbing member with her tongue.

 

Ned used her like a toy, who’s only purpose was to bring him to his end. He ignored her gags when he took her to nine inches, ten inches, eleven inches… The twelfth inch took the most work. Drool was pouring from her lips and dripping over his balls as her beautiful face went beet-red and her eyes rolled back into her skull.

 

Eventually Ned pulled her off his cock, leaving it covered in her spit. Taking his cock in hand, Ned slapped the Amazon Queen’s barely conscious face with it a few times, before going back to ploughing her throat like it was Mellario’s arsehole.

 

He made sure her golden crown stayed on. He wanted it to be clear it was a Queen’s throat he was using. The tightness of Hippolyta’s throat as it contracted around the invader was maddening. He pulled her head up and down his throbbing shaft, the wet Gluck sounds coming from her throat echoed throughout the room. His balls were battering her chin as she went limp in his arms, surrendering completely to her King.

 

Eventually the sensations became too much for him. With the telltale twitching in his cock, Ned forced all twelve inches as deep into Hippolyta’s throat as he could go. Rope after rope of his seed exploded from the end of his cock, depositing itself directly into her stomach. He held her there for what felt like an age before withdrawing, spending the last few ropes on Hippolyta’s perfect, unconscious face.

 

Ned left her propped up against the foot of the bed as he rose to his feet and walked over to a pitcher of water that stood on a table to the side. He gulped down the clear, cool water eagerly. Once Ned was sufficiently refreshed, he walked back to Hippolyta and splashed her face with the remaining water, cleaning her off and waking her up.

 

The Queen spluttered awake indignantly, before she saw Ned standing over her, his cock still hard and glistening with her spit. “It seems you defeated me on our first bout.” She smirked up at him. “Perhaps you could be a gentleman and afford me the opportunity to prove my worth again.”

 

Ned grinned at her as he set the pitcher down on the floor. “I shall give you as many opportunities as you require.”

 

Quick as a flash, Ned yanked Hippolyta from the floor and threw her onto the bed. She landed with a giggle before Ned landed on top of her, folding her legs up, leaving her completely at his mercy.

 

“Gods Ne-EEDDD!!” She shrieked, her eyes rolling back into her head as Ned slammed every inch of his foot-long cock directly into her cunt without warning. The only lubrication being her spit on his member. With a satisfied grin on his face, Ned was balls deep in the Queen of the Amazons, a woman of divine beauty and unmatched legend.

 

He made her submit before him. The warrior Queen was quivering around his shaft as she howled in pleasure. Her body instantly succumbed to Ned’s cock, her cunt was already wet and ready, eager to accept his cock as her hands grasped at the bedsheets, tearing them in her grip as she whined. But Ned ignored her, he withdrew from her sopping cunt and thrust up to the hilt inside her again. And again. And again.

 

The shockwaves of his assault sending pleasant ripples all through Hippolyta’s perfect flesh. The twin rosy capped melons that resided on her chest bounced back and forth in time with Ned’s thrusts. Breasts had always held Ned’s highest esteem for parts of a woman’s body. Even since he had first seen Sylvie’s glorious chest as she bathed in the godswood. When he gave her his maidenhead.

 

He leaned down and took one of her rosy nipples in his mouth, sucking it hard and teasing it with his teeth, making Hippolyta moan even louder as his hips clapped down on hers, making the bed creak and shake beneath them.

 

Ned’s cock was knocking on the entrance to Hippolyta’s womb, demanding entrance and she was willingly giving it to him. Their second bout was seemingly as much a route for her as their first had been. Though Ned imagined she didn’t mind too much. She certainly didn’t seem to. Her clenching cunt, twitching legs and ever more wild shrieking told Ned she was violently climaxing around him. The sudden tightness and rush of warmth that bathed his throbbing cock confirmed it for him. Yet still he fucked on, latching onto Hippolyta’s massive breasts as she sobbed from the pleasure beneath him.

 

“FUCK ME! FUCK ME NED!” Hippolyta whined as Ned ravaged her cunt without a thought for her. “I’M YOURS TO USE AS YOU WISH!”

 

“Do you submit?” Ned demanded, his mouth leaving her tit.

 

“YES! I SUBMIT!” She screamed, arching her back, trembling and weeping as Ned fucked her through her second climax of the night.

 

With a low grunt and a few dozen more thrusts, Ned filled her eager womb with his seed. Just as the Lusty Wolf had done thousands of years before. Still hard as Uru, Ned pulled out of Hippolyta’s gushing cunt and flipped her over onto her face, pressing it into the silken sheets of the bed.

 

Relishing the use of both hands again, Ned angled her hips to point her arse upwards towards him, on her knees. And what an arse it was. Twin globes of flawless creamy skin, with a enough flesh that a man could happily drown in her arsecheeks.

 

Ned laid his shaft along the the canyon between the two mounds, feeling her shiver as her cunt and her arsehole kissed his cock. Taking his cock in hand, Ned rubbed it against the two holes, teasing them both. Hippolyta moaned into the mattress as she pressed her hips back to meet him, begging him to enter her. Ned was happy to oblige.

 

With one mighty thrust, he shoved every inch of his cock back into her waiting cunt. Her climax was instant. Her screams could likely be heard all over the island. “FUCK ME! FUCK ME!” Was all she moaned, again and again as Ned dominated her body with his cock. Waves of her pale, trembling flesh rippled across her massive arse as Ned slammed his hips against it.

 

Ned gripped her waist so hand he thought she might bruise later as he ravaged her like a bitch in heat. All her strength had left her quickly, she was his plaything now. And she seemingly loved it. Ned fucked her through her fourth climax, then her fifth. After her sixth, Ned began to rain blows down on her fleshy arse with his new metal hand. Her cheeks turned a wonderful shade of red when he struck them repeatedly, making her tighten around him as she quivered.

 

He placed his metal hand on the centre of Hippolyta’s back, pushing her harder against the mattress as he quickened his pace. Any words Hippolyta might have screamed lost all meaning after that. Ned turned her into a babbling mess of a woman where once stood a powerful warrior and a beautiful Queen.

 

Now she was his whore.

 

The wooden frame of the bed was creaking louder and louder, one end banging against the wall as the bed moved with Ned’s thrusts. Eventually it snapped under the force of their fucking. Neither of them noticed however, as Ned was busy fucking Hippolyta into a catatonic state. And Hippolyta was in a catatonic state thanks to Ned’s fucking.

 

She squirted again and again, soaking the ruined bed beneath them.

 

Eventually Ned grew tired of his position kneeling over Hippolyta, so he hooked his arms under her legs, wrapped his hands behind her head and lifted her up, still keeping his cock inside her. Hippolyta’s room had a large balcony with a wonderful view that they had mostly ignored after they arrived.

 

Ned decided to remedy that.

 

He carried Hippolyta through the sheer silk curtains and out into the cool air of the balcony. They were on a high hill that afforded them an excellent view of the city below them, leading all the way to a harbour where ships stayed in dock over night.

 

Looking out over the city that Hippolyta ruled, Ned began to bounce her up and down his cock. She could only moan weekly as Ned pleasured himself using her cunt.

 

“Who’s whore are you?” Ned whispered into her ear as he eased her up and down his cock.

 

“Yours…” Hippolyta moaned back weakly.

 

“I can’t hear you.” Ned goaded her.

 

“Yours!” She moaned louder.

 

“You can do better than that!” Ned quickened his pace, the loud claps of her ample arse against his waist echoed over the city.

 

“Yours! I’m your whore! Fuck your whore! Please fuck me!” Hippolyta screamed as she squirted on Ned’s cock again, her huge breasts bouncing wildly.

 

The effort eventually became too much for Ned and he filled Hippolyta with his seed again, spending rope after rope inside her womb.

 

If we keep up like this, you’ll have a babe by the end of the week, Ned mused as he motioned her up and down his cock.

 

After a few moments of looking out over the Amazon city at night, gently thrusting inside Hippolyta, something hit Ned on the side of the head, then clattered to the marble floor of the balcony. Ned looked to where the impact had come from and saw Hippolyta’s daughter Diana, standing on her balcony not five feet away from him. She was completely naked and looking at Ned with daggers in her eyes.

 

“ Some of us are trying to sleep .” She said with so much venom Ned thought he might drop dead. But he saw what state she was in. Her hair was messed up, her nipples were hard as diamonds and there was a faint glistening wetness between her thighs.

 

She’d been listening to them.

 

She was jealous.

 

Ned turned to face Diana, still holding Hippolyta, giving her a perfect view of his cock splitting her mother’s cunt apart.

 

“Your mother and I just wanted to take in the view.” He said. “Sleep well.” He carried Hippolyta back into her room and deposited her back onto the bed with a thump.

 

“A-a-are we done then…?” She moaned weakly, his seed gushing from her cunt.

 

“Oh… Not nearly.” Ned said as he knelt behind her, angled his cock with her arsehole and thrust inside without warning. “Especially not now we have a captive audience.” He whispered in Hippolyta’s ear as she screamed and convulsed in pleasure.

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

Catelyn

 

 

It seemed a thousand years ago that she had walked out of Riverrun a newly married woman with a babe on the way, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat to begin her journey north to Winterfell as the Riverlands were ravaged by war. Now she was returning to her childhood home, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat, not three months into her marriage to Elia and carrying another babe in her womb, with the Riverlands ravaged by war.

 

There had been thinkers and philosophers Cat had read about that said the Gods made play of mortal men and women, and that they weren’t very imaginative with their toys. Patterns would repeat themselves again and again, with the people learning nothing from the past. Cat found herself thinking of a poem “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake,” she could certainly agree with that sentiment.

 

Elia sat beside her on the boat, their direwolves were around them as the rowers pulled at their oars. Harper was the only Chosen Man with them at the time. They rest of them, her uncle Brynden and the Northern lords would follow in other boats. Robb, Alysanne, Lyanna and Rhaenys were already inside the castle. One of the many benefits of riding a dragon, Cat mused. Walls were not an obstacle for them.

 

Their small boat was carried quickly down the Tumblestone, the strong current pushing them along past the looming Wheel Tower. There was a comfortable familiarity to Riverrun’s old sandstone walls that Cat only felt with one other place: Winterfell. People were gathering on top of the walls, they shouted her name and Elia’s, waving the banners of House Tully. There was a part of Cat that longed to be back in Winterfell, in the nice large bed she shared with her husband and her wives, but she could not deny a part of her was glad to be back in her girlhood home.

 

The boat turned in the shadow of the Wheel Tower, angling itself towards the Water Gate as it came into view. The great iron portcullis rose from the water to grant them access, the lower half having been reddened with rust.

 

They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Her father’s guards waited on the water stair with her brother, Robb, Alysanne, Lyanna and Rhaenys. Edmure had become a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard in the years since she’d last seen him. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. A man Cat recognised as Lord Tytos Blackwood stood at her brother’s left, to his right stood a woman that Cat needed to have words with.

 

Minisa Tully had been a beautiful woman in her youth, men had said Cat resembled her mother closely and it was something she was grateful for. Alas, she was a woman past sixty now. Her mother’s hair that had once been as red as her own had lost most of it’s colour, giving way to grey. What little red remained was faded, lacking the light of youth.

 

Upon seeing her mother, Cat didn’t quite know what to feel. Her husband had fucked her mother. Her devout mother had betrayed her wedding vows for a small amount of time in Ned’s bed.

 

Though in truth, that wasn’t something Cat could find it within herself to feel anger for. If she had married another man, Cat knew she would more than likely have bedded Ned at the first chance she was given too. Thoughts of her mother and her husband were pushed from her mind when she heard her brother speak.

 

“Bring them in,” Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out and over to Robb, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and falling down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man had a sheepish look on his face. Harper vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Cat by the waist, carefully trying not to press against her pregnant stomach, setting her on a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots. He then did the same with Elia.

 

Edmure came down the steps to embrace her. “Sweet sister,” he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Cat hugged him fiercely.

 

“I’m glad to see the water was no trouble.” Robb said as he walked down to her, followed by Alysanne and Rhaenys, who went to Elia.

 

“I used to swim that river when I was a girl.” Cat pointed out to her son. “A boat was of little trouble.”

 

“I doubt you could swim the Tumblestone in your current state, little Cat.” Her mother gracefully walked down the steps to be eye to eye with her.

 

“Yes.” Edmure joined their mother. “It seems even in these dire times there can be cause for celebration. Congratulations, to you both.” He said to her and Elia. “How many does that make now, six?”

 

“Seven. From my womb at least” Cat corrected him.

 

“Seven…” Minisa said, in awe. “It’s a wonder you get any sleep.” She laughed.

 

“Your daughter certainly married a potent man, Lady Tully.” Elia gave Minisa a knowing smile. Stop it, Cat told her with a stern look. Elia only gave her a charming smile in return. She was loving it. Something Cat was unwilling to deal with at the moment.

 

“I would like to see father.” Cat cut through the conversation in an effort to stop Elia from eventually blurting out they knew what her mother had done with Ned.

 

“He awaits you in his solar,” Edmure said.

 

“Hoster has been bedridden for some time.” Her mother explained. “He wanted me to bring you to him when you arrived.”

 

“I’ll take her.” Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr and Brandon had once crossed swords for her favour. The massive sandstone walls of the keep loomed above them. As they pushed through a door between two guardsmen in fish-crest helms, she asked, “How bad is he?” dreading the answer even as she said the words.

 

Edmure’s look was somber. “He will not be with us long, the maesters say. The pain is… constant, and grievous.”

 

“You should have told me,” she said. “You should have sent word as soon as you knew.”

 

“He forbade it. He did not want his enemies to know that he was dying. With the realm so troubled, he feared that if the Lannisters suspected how frail he was…”

 

“…they might attack?” Cat finished, hard.  It was your doing, yours, a voice whispered inside her.  If you had not taken it upon yourself to seize the dwarf…

 

They climbed the spiral stair in silence.

 

Eventually they reached her father’s chamber, Edmure tentatively nudged him awake. “Father, see who I’ve brought. Cat has come to see you…”

 

Hoster Tully had always been a big man; tall and broad in his youth, portly as he grew older. Now he seemed shrunken, the muscle and meat melted off his bones. Even his face sagged. The last time Cat had seen him, his hair and beard had been brown, well streaked with grey. Now they had gone white as snow.

 

His eyes opened to the sound of Edmure’s voice. “Little Cat,” he murmured in a voice thin and wispy and wracked by pain. “My little Cat.” A tremulous smile touched his face as his hand groped for hers. “I watched for you…”

 

After a rather sporadic conversation with her father fuelled by milk of the poppy, Cat left him to his rest. When she returned to the lower bailey, she saw her uncle and her mother talking quietly together. When they saw her, they came quick. “Is he—?” Her uncle asked.

 

“Dying,” Cat said, with a forlorn sense of finality. “As we feared.”

 

Her uncle’s craggy face showed his pain plain. He ran his fingers through his thick grey hair. “Will he see me?”

 

Cat nodded. “He says he is too sick to fight.”

 

Brynden Blackfish chuckled. “I am too old a soldier to believe that. Hoster will be chiding me about the Redwyne girl even as we light his funeral pyre, damn his bones.” With that, he left Cat and her mother alone together.

 

“I have missed you little-“

 

“I know, mother.” Cat blurted out, interrupting her. This wasn’t how she meant to do it, but in the moment, she could not deny herself.

 

Minisa looked at Cat quizzically. “I know this is a trying time but that’s no way to talk to your mother, Catelyn.”

 

“I know what you did at Harrenhal.” Cat locked eyes with her mother. “…With the man who would be my husband…”

 

Shock passed over Minisa in that instance, then gave way to confusion. “How could you possibly know about that?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Brandon’s been dead over twenty years, who told you what we did?”

 

“Brandon!?” Cat shrieked indignantly. They were lucky no one else was there. “I’m talking about Ned!”

 

“Oh…” Silence filled the air as Cat realised the fullness of her mother’s actions.

 

“You fucked both of them…” She took a deep breath. This was certainly something she didn’t need to be dealing with along with everything else. “You bedded my future husband and my betrothed.” Was more a statement than a question.

 

“I’m so sorry, Cat.” Her mother pleaded with her, taking her by the hands.

 

Cat was stern. “I don’t want apologies, I want to know what happened.” She knew in her heart she should be angrier with her mother. With Ned too…

 

“Ned… Was some fun on a trip away from home…” Her mother seemed ashamed to admit it. “He happened upon me swimming in the river. He was very polite, and a handsome lad so…”

 

“So… You fucked him on the riverbank.”

 

Her mother bowed her head, speaking softly. “Yes…”

 

Cat exhaled through her nose. “If we forget that you are married to father for a moment. Ned at Harrenhal, I can forgive… Were I not betrothed to Brandon, I could easily see myself being among Ned’s conquests there. But you also took Ned here in Riverrun. On the day I was to marry him…”

 

Her mother began to chew her bottom lip. “Did Ned tell you that?”

 

“No, Petyr said he saw you and he together.”

 

The thought seemed to disgust her mother. “Ugh, that little pervert. Do you know how many times I caught him watching me bathe?”

 

“He was watching Ned, Elia and I fucking too.” Cat admitted. “But explain your actions.”

 

“Ned was in pain…” Minisa said, sadly. “His father and brother had been murdered, the gods only knew what was happening to his sister… I wanted to stay away, but I could not deny the comfort I wanted to give him… and his cock was too good to leave behind…”

 

To her surprise, Cat found herself nodding in agreement. Until she remembered it was her own mother talking about her husband’s cock. “And Brandon?” She said, trying to move on. “What happened with him?”

 

“After I persuaded your husband to peruse Lady Ashara, she started taking up more of his time.” Her mother confessed. “My bed was empty until Brandon came to me one night, saying i’d already had one Stark brother and that another was no different.” She gave a small smile. “He was right…”

 

“So you spent the tourney bouncing between the two oldest Stark sons?”

 

“I regret that I did not have them both together.” The thought had crossed Cat’s mind before. Brandon and Ned with her in between them. Two Stark men, essentially two Neds… The idea had caused a stirring in her loins more than once. “Alas.” Her mother said. “After Ned found Ashara, it was mainly Brandon and Rhaella in my bed.”

 

“Rhaella Targaryen!?” Cat was certainly shocked at this revelation. Was her mother where she got her attraction to women from? “Wife of the Mad King!?”

 

“Yes.” Minisa smiled. “Brandon kept the two of us up all night long.”

 

Gods, Brandon had no fear at all, Cat nearly laughed. He bedded the mother of his betrothed and the Queen of the Seven kingdoms at the same time. He really was a Stark…

 

“Can you forgive me, little Cat?” Her mother asked. Cat found herself unable to be truly angry with her mother, as she would more than likely have done the same in her mother’s position. Ned had a hold on her that she could not describe.

 

“I must admit, this news does not make me as angry as I would have been in the past.” Cat admitted. “I love you… I will adore Ned until I die and Brandon has been in the ground for twenty years…”

 

“So you can forgive me?”

 

“It’s something I can live with.” Cat affirmed. “Now, I must find my children.” She left her mother in the bailey.

 

She was walking through the courtyard when three dragons flew overhead. It took her moments to recognise them as Moonhowler, Sunbeam and Winderfröst. Why would Jon, Sansa and Benjen fly to us so soon? She wondered. Had their battle gone ill? Their dragons didn’t appear hurt.

 

Eventually all three dragons landed outside the castle walls. She saw Robb and Alysanne hurrying out of a hall to join her, the Chosen Men behind them. She heard someone shouting “Open the gate!” On top of the wall. The great iron portcullis rose slowly, groaning as it was lifted into the air.

 

“I ordered Jon to stay with his army.” Robb said as he stood next to Cat.

 

“Your brother would not disobey you lightly.” She said.

 

Please gods, let it be good news they bring, she preyed silently.

 

She saw Jon, Sansa, Benjen and Ash all walking across Riverrun’s drawbridge, unharmed, but with grim looks on their faces. Jon was also carrying a body over his shoulder, their arms and legs tied together and a bag over their head.

 

“I know you told me to stay with my men.” Jon said when he reached them. “But this is an urgent matter.”

 

“What happened with the Lannisters?” Alysanne asked. “Did the battle go ill?”

 

Jon handed the body to Hagman. “Take her and put her in a dungeon, alone.” He said. “You are to guard her yourself and let none but us near her. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir.” Harper answered and took the woman away, she tried to struggle as Jon handed her over, from the sounds of it, she was gagged too.

 

“Jon explain yourself.” Robb was getting annoyed.

 

“In private.” Jon answered, “Right now.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

“Dragons!?” Robb shouted in astonishment.

 

“Yes.” Jon answered grimly. “And seemingly more riders than we have. It was a minor miracle none of ours died.” A lifetime of decorum fought against Cat’s urge to bang her fist on the table in fury. They were all in the solar: Cat, Ash, Elia, Benjen, Lyanna, Robb, Jon, Alysanne, Sansa and Rhaenys. Jon had gathered them all together and told them what Tywin had in his armies.

 

“It’s not a total calamity.” Benjen said, evenly. “From what we’ve gathered from our captive, none of Tywin’s dragons are older than twenty. It seems he had eggs stolen from the Dragon Pit when his men took King’s Landing. Then he hatched them in the following years.”

 

“And we killed several of the dragons during the battle.” Sansa said. Cat’s heart filled with sorrow at hearing her daughter talk that way.

 

“Do we know if that was the sum total of his dragons?” Robb asked as he leaned against the room’s hearth.

 

“No…” Jon admitted. “He could have more than we’ve seen.”

 

“And how did he manage to tame them?”

 

“From how our captive looks, it seems Tywin used his position as Hand to squirrel away the Mad King’s bastards, taking them and raising them in the Rock.”

 

“So he has dragons and riders...” Cat said. “We need to be very careful in what we do next.”

 

“I already have an idea.” Jon said. “The dragons we have here are not the only dragons our house posses. What we’re short on is riders.”

 

“Are you suggesting we start looking for Stark bastards?” Rhaenys asked.

 

“We wouldn’t need to look too far.” Jon chuckled.

 

“I seem to remember Rhaenyra Targaryen tried a similar method during the Dance of Dragons.” Ash said. “It did not go well…”

 

“Then what would you suggest, mother?” Jon turned to her. “Because I saw my family members being swarmed by dragons and I have no other ideas how to protect them.”

 

History repeats…

 

“It’s an idea worth considering.” Robb said. “Stark bastards have ridden Stark dragons before and been a great help.”

 

“Sara Snow.” Lyanna said. “She rode Meraxes during the Dance.”

 

Cat heard a loud knocking could be heard from the door. “We said not to be disturbed.” Robb called through the door. After a moment it opened with Yennefer standing in the doorway, glassy eyed, holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

 

“They…” was all she managed to say before the tears started falling.

 

 

—————————

 

 

The world was a bleak place now. As if the sun mourned Ned’s absence. Cat had been distraught when Yennefer told them what had happened. She wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t. Joffrey had written letters to every high lord in the realm. Ned and Arthur had been publicly gelded and then beheaded on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor.

 

She had not said words, for there were no words to say.

 

Only grief.

 

Elia had quietly wept in the corner, Ash had been loud and angry, full of her Dornish fire for her husband and brother. Lyanna had to be restrained from mounting her dragon and riding off to wipe King’s Landing off the map. Cat’s first thought had been of her children and the child in her womb that would never know their father.

 

 

—————————

 

 

“YES! YES! FUCK ME NED! FUCK YOUR WHORE!!!” Hippolyta screamed as Ned rammed her from behind. His throbbing cock thrusting in and out of the Queen’s arse.

 

While their bed frame had broken some hours ago, the mattress was still in working order, though that was like to change under the force of their fucking. His metal hand gripped her throat and held it tightly, cutting of her air as her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

 

“It’s a poor queen who leaves her subjects wanting.” Ned said as he thrust her face back into Meghara’s sodden cunt. The scribe had walked in on Ned and Hippolyta’s liaison and promptly joined them, as had the two guards stationed on their door.

 

Ned found himself in a writhing mass of strong limbs and bountiful curves. All four women were used to slake his lusts. They served him enthusiastically with every hole they had.

 

If only my women were here, Ned thought. Then it would truly be Paradise.

 

 

—————————

 

 

In the hours after they received the news, they were visited by every lord and lady in the castle. Those from the North were clearly distraught by Ned’s death. They loved him, and Arthur too, to a lesser extent. They all offered their condolences, yet Cat could only find solace in her family.

 

Eventually, her children and the Northerners went to pray in Riverrun’s godswood. Elia hand wanted to go to the Sept, so Ash had gone with her. Cat hadn’t gone with them. She had prayed for Ned’s safe return, clearly the gods weren’t listening.

 

She found herself wandering the halls of her home aimlessly. Men and women stepped aside and bowed their heads as she passed them by, not sparing them a thought. There was only one thing that occupied Cat’s mind by then. She found it when she came to the solar where they kept the Kingslayer.

 

“Move aside.” She ordered the two Ice Guard that blocked her path. They looked to each other for a few moments, then opened the door for her. Ser Jaime was chained to the bed that he lay on. The Maester was treating the wounds Lyanna and the Chosen Men had inflicted upon him. His fever had died down and he was conscious enough to talk.

 

“Ah… Lady Stark.” He said when she walked into the room and shut the door behind her. “After I heard the news… I expected one of you to come.” Cat ignored him and pulled up a chair to his bedside. She sat down on it and fixed him with a steely gaze. “I am sorry about your husband.”

 

“Arthur taught you everything. He gave you a knighthood. What a disappointment you must be to him now…”

 

“I would raise my cup to their memory. If I had a cup… Or a hand…” He raised his stump as far as his bonds would allow. Then he stilled and his humour melted away. “I won’t beg for my life.”

 

“I’m not going to kill you Kingslayer.” Her voice had hoarse with grief. “But you will suffer. I have such plans for you…” her eyes looked over Jaime’s battered body for a moment. “First i’ll take your other hand, then your feet, then your tongue and all your perfect teeth-“

 

“-Yes and then you’ll take my eyes…” Jaime finished for her. “Really Lady Stark I thought you’d be more imaginative than that.”

 

“You are mistaken.” Cat said. “You will keep you eyes because I want you to see what will happen to your family.” That got a reaction from him. He strained against his bonds with hate in his eyes. Cat felt that they were secure enough so she carried on. “Your sister will be placed in a stockade in Winterfell’s main square. First the Stark men will use her. Then the men of the castle will get their turn.” Cat felt a sea of hatred bubbling from within her. If the Lannisters had never murdered Jon Arryn, Ned would never have needed to go south and he would still be with her. “Once the men of Winterfell have had their turn, then it’ll be the wolves. Please understand, I don’t mean for the wolves to eat her…” The Kingslayer was growing more furious by the second. “Once the wolves have had their turn, then she will be open to the men of the Winter City. For one copper coin they’ll get to fuck the former queen. And you’ll see every moment of it, as will Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. For the rest of your lives.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Jaime spat. Cat gripped him tightly by the balls, making the Kingslayer shriek in shock.

 

“ Look into my eyes. ” Cat thundered. She knew her sons would never let her do the things she said, but the Kingslayer did not. He held her gaze for a time, before blinking and looking away. Cat got up to leave the room when she opened the door she heard his voice.

 

“I thought you wouldn’t fit in with the harsh North… You truly have a heart of stone.”

 

No Kingslayer, only a broken one…

 

Cooper found her wandering the halls “We’ve had word from the south, Princess.” He said. “Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother’s crown.”

 

“Renly?” she said, shocked. “I had thought… Surely it would be Lord Stannis…”

 

“So did we all, Princess.” The Chosen Man said. “Prince Robb and your brother have called a council to discuss it.” Cat had not the strength after everything that had already happened that day. Yet she knew her children were feeling the same. She had to be strong for her family.

 

The war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a misshapen square. As her father was too weak to attend, Edmure sat in the high seat of the Tullys, with her uncle at his right and her mother to his left. The Riverlords arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Karyl Vance came in, a lord now, his father dead beneath the Golden Tooth. Ser Marq Piper was with him, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun’s son, a lad no older than Bran. Lord Jonos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos Blackwood as the tables would permit.

 

The northern lords sat opposite, with the Starks sat together, facing her brother across the tables. Benjen sat at Robb’s left hand, and Rhaenys on his right. Cat, Ash and Elia sat next to her with Sansa and Alysanne. Jon sat next to Benjen with Lyanna on his left, her eyes burning with fury. There were so many Northern lords around her that she could not name them all. But she knew every one of their faces.

 

The arguing raged on late into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did… and shout, and swear, and reason, and cajole, and jest, and bargain, and slam tankards on the table, and threaten, and walk out, and return sullen or smiling. Cat sat and listened to it all.

 

Jon told them of his battle with Tywin Lannister, listing the captives they had taken, Tywin’s own brother among them. The lords had certainly not taken news of Tywin’s dragons well, but seemed to be assured by the fact that many of his dragons had been killed and the fact that Jon had made a prisoner of one of his dragonriders. Jon said he had left Beric in charge of his forces while he brought the captive to Riverrun and that his scouts had told him Lord Tywin’s army had crossed the Trident and was retreating towards Harrenhal. In the end the matter they spent the most time on was the two kings in the realm. Two kings, and no agreement.

 

Many lords wanted to march on Harrenhal at once, to meet Lord Tywin and make an end of the Old Lion for good and all. Lyanna urged them to attack King’s Landing and put Joffrey’s head on a spike. The patient Lord Dhalark said that Tywin was a wounded animal and therefore at his most dangerous. Not to mention his previously unknown dragons. He counselled that they should all gather their men into one force before they even think of attacking Harrenhal. Lord Jonos Bracken was one of the last to speak insisting they should pledge their fealty to King Renly, and move south to join their might to his.

 

“Renly is not the king,” Robb said. It was the first time her son had spoken. Much like his father, he knew how to listen.

 

“You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, My Prince,” Robert Rarker said. “He put your father to death.”

 

“That means he will die,” Robb replied. “That doesn’t mean Renly should be king.”

 

“Renly is not right!” Lord Balgruuf Nord snapped.

 

“We know Cersei’s children are bastards born of incest.” Jon said. “Robert’s blood does not flow through their veins. So his claim passes to Stannis.”

 

Lady Mormont agreed. “Lord Stannis has the better claim!”

 

“Renly is crowned,” said Marq Piper. “Highgarden and Storm’s End support his claim. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have four of the seven great houses behind him. Five, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Five against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?”

 

“The right.” said Robb, with an icy glare. It almost pained her, but Cat thought Robb had never looked more like his father than in that moment.

 

“I don’t know about you, my Lords.” Benjen said. “I could never place my trust in a man who would try to steal his brother’s claim. He would betray us in an instant if it suited him.”

 

“So the Starks will declare for Stannis?” asked Edmure.

 

“I don’t know,” said Robb. “I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer.”

 

“My lord father would urge caution,” The aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. “Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce… and the safe return of his son and brother. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms…”

 

A roar of outrage drowned out his voice.

 

Lyanna nearly leaped at him with a butter knife in hand.

 

“Craven!” the Greatjon thundered.

 

“Begging for a truce will make us seem weak,” Declared Lady Mormont.

 

“Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer,” shouted Rickard Karstark.

 

“Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my king,” declared Marq Piper.

 

“Nor I!” yelled the little Darry boy. “I never will!”

 

“MY LORDS!” The Greatjon shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. “Here is what I say to these two kings!” He spat, to the cheers and laughter of the Northern lords. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I’ve had a bellyful of them. It strikes me we have a simple solution to our problem.” He pointed at Rhaenys, who’d been sitting quietly the whole time. Cat almost couldn’t see that she’d been crying before the council. “We have the Last Targaryen sitting in our midst. A woman grown, a warrior and a dragonrider. A Princess of Winterfell with a Stark pup in her belly.” The Northern lords began to bang their fists and tankards on their tables in approval. “The Prince of Dorne would much like to seat his niece on the Iron Throne i’d wager, and how many others would welcome a Targaryen back in King’s Landing? Backed by the North, the Riverlands and Dorne. I say the North and the Riverlords once went to war for a Targaryen Queen and I can think of few I would rather bow to.”

 

The idea seemed to be a popular one among the Northerners. Robb had turned to Rhaenys, Cat could not hear their words over the noise, but she imagined Robb was offering his support. Eventually she stood up and the sounds died down.

 

“I am grateful for the honour you bestow upon me, Lord Umber.” She said. “But I am afraid I cannot accept it. I have no wish to return to King’s Landing. It is a place of death and Winterfell is my home, I will not leave it even for a crown.”

 

There was silence in the hall for a few moments. “Ah, fuck it.” The Greatjon said as he reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. “Then why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to and married, and now the only dragon left is more Stark than Targaryen!” He pointed at Robb with the blade. “There sits the only King I mean to bow my knee to, m’lords,” he thundered. “The King in the North!”

 

And he knelt, and laid his sword at her son’s feet.

 

“I was a boy when the dragons came to Westeros…” Old Barrengar the forge-master rose to his feet, leaning on his weirwood staff. He was the oldest living Child of the Forest. His long white beard reached his waist. All were silent when he spoke. “I remember my father telling me one day that the Starks were no longer the kings of the North It did not seem real… I have lived through the reign of every southern king good and bad. And I have only one thing to say to the prospect of living under another one...” He through down his staff at Robb’s feet. “Fuck that!” He fell to his knees. “To the Stark of Winterfell: The Lord of Ice and Snow. I pledge to you my fealty, and all else that I owe.”

 

“I’ll have peace on those terms,” Lord Karstark raised his voice as he left his seat. “They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too.” He eased his longsword from its scabbard. “The King in the North!” he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon.

 

“You are my brother, now and always.” Jon vowed as he rose to his feet and drew his sword. “My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day until my last day.” He joined Karstark, Umber and Barrengar on his knees and laid his Valyrian Steel blade at his twin’s feet.

 

Then it was Sylvie who stood. “The King of Winter!” she declared, and laid her curved blade beside the swords. Then it was Dhalark, and Rarker, and Nord, and Glover, and Mormont, and Manderly, and Bolton, and Tallhart, and Thenn. The lords of the North all rose and knelt to her son.

 

Then the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Cat watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for nearly three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one… yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of her father’s hall:

 

“The King in the North!”

 

“The King in the North!”

 

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

Notes:

Hey, so it’s been a while…

Is it a Christmas Miracle!?!

I haven’t been able to work on the fic as often as I would have liked these last few months. I would like to say we’re back to a one chapter per month schedule, but that is unlikely to be the case. So for now, i’ll just say the next chapter will be out when it’s out. If you want updates on the chapters as they’re being written I’d suggest joining the Discord server as I interact with my readers there most days. Please do remember that every time someone asks me when the next chapter is coming out, I push it back a week… Jk JK (But not really)

As ever, please like, follow and subscribe for more of this content. If the mood takes you, why not join our Discord server?

There are many benefits including: pictures of the characters, background lore for WWC, family trees and maps of WWC Westeros, easily asking questions about the fic and much more!

Discord - https://discord.gg/vQrEA2ctdy

Until we meet again in the new year, next time on When Winter Comes!

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

Chapter 26: Chapter 21

The sun shone bright in a clear blue sky above Themyscira, with a cool breeze coming in from the sea blowing through the large window of the room he shared with Hippolyta. It seemed, to Ned, that the weather there was always perfect. Never too hot, nor too cold. It was certainly an enchanting land, almost as enchanting as the Amazons who lived on it.

 

One particularly lovely Amazon had planted her massive, muscular behind on Ned’s lap, burying every inch of his shaft deep within her core. Her name was Nubia. Hippolyta had appointed her as Ned’s personal guard, telling him she was one of her finest warriors. Themyscira’s queen had barely left the room before Nubia had leapt onto Ned, eagerly demanding he take her.

 

Ned had never been one to deny a woman in need.

 

She rode him hard and fast, a thin layer of sweat forming on her flawless skin as she exerted herself. Ned was content to lay back against the pillows and enjoy the show. Like all other Amazons Ned had seen, Nubia was an exceedingly beautiful woman, with a regal face, big dark-brown eyes and a huge mass of frizzy black hair that fell in a curtain down her back.

 

Nubia had skin as dark as Chataya’s, with curves to exceed the brothel madame. Just like Hippolyta and every other Amazon Ned had seen naked, Nubia had abundant curves and well-toned muscles. Her body was made for battle and love-making. Not necessarily in that order. Her massive, dark breasts bounced happily before his eyes, both capped with small coal-black nipples that had formed hardened points in her arousal.

 

Ned took one of her soft, perfect globes of flesh in his hand, making the warrior moan happily above him. She was truly a work of art. Ned wondered how the Lusty Wolf ever left Themyscira with beauties like Nubia throwing themselves at him.

 

The sounds of rhythmic slapping of Nubia’s muscular arse on Ned’s thighs bounced off the polished stone walls of Hipployta’s room. The echos almost drowned out Nubia’s deep, wanton moans as Ned felt her cunt squeezing his cock with every thrust of her wide hips. Her hands were pushing down on his chest, holding herself up as she rode him. She would rise halfway up the length of Ned’s manhood, then slam herself the whole way down, embracing Ned in her impossibly tight and warm wetness.

 

Nubia wouldn’t settle for anything less than the entire length of his cock. She was an Amazon warrior, proud and skilled. She’d told him she hadn’t meet a foe she needed to yield to… Yet… Ned was all too happy to let her test her stamina against his. She wasn’t the first to do so, she likely wouldn’t be the last.

 

In her eyes Ned saw wanton desire and defiance. None had ever been able to fuck her like he had, or bring her to as many explosive climaxes. Nubia wanted to prove she was the best. She was certainly trying hard as she fucked herself on Ned’s throbbing cock.

 

His hand rose from her exquisitely bouncing breast and snaked around her neck, choking her slightly as she rode him. The Amazon’s eyes spread wide for a moment in surprise, then were filled with an animal lust that might have frightened Ned if he hadn’t seen it in Hippolyta’s eyes the night before.

 

Nubia began riding Ned with renewed vigour, whining happily as he made her shiver atop him. The heat of their union was near unbearable. The frantic pace of their coupling made the bed rock back and forth beneath them, thudding dully against the wall. Ned thanked the gods that Hippolyta had replaced her old broken bed with a much more sturdy alternative.

 

The hand of Ned’s that wasn’t wrapped around Nubia’s throat was gripping her hip tightly, urging her back and forth as her pleasure caused her to lose her rhythm. Ned felt her clenching around him as he had multiple times before, he knew her end was near.

 

Nubia’s mouth hung open in a high-pitched wail, pressing her face against Ned as she climaxed for a sixth time. He could feel every muscle of her cunt clenching around his member, massaging it, lavishing it with her warmth, begging him to give her what she was owed.

 

Feeling he had proved himself her superior, Ned let go and filled the dark-skinned Amazon with enough of his seed to father an army of children, deposited deep within her core.

 

They lay together for a time, breathing heavily as ripples of their pleasure coursed through them. Nubia remained in her position lying fully on top of Ned, her massive breasts pressed comfortingly against his chest as she sighed happily. “From the year I fucked my first woman, they told me tales of Brandon Stark… Of his stamina… His size… His prowess… I cursed the gods for allowing me to be born so long after such a man had left Themyscira.”

 

“Have I met with your expectations?” Ned chuckled, looking down at her.

 

Nubia turned up and met his gaze with a big, cheshire grin on her face before leaning up to kiss him. “You’ve exceeded my expectations… but there is always room for improvement.” She laughed before she leapt up from the bed, her curves bouncing happily. “Come, the Queen has instructed me to take you to the waters.”

 

“Waters?” Ned asked as he rose.

 

“Come,” Was the only answer she gave him. “I will show you.” Neither bothered to dress as she lead him by the hand out of the room. Walking down the corridor, an equally naked duo of Arthur and another Amazon joined them, it seemed Arthur had received a similar treatment to Ned.

 

“Whatever would Lyanna say.” Ned chuckled when he saw Arthur, nodding to his companion.

 

“You know Lya,” Arthur smiled, “She’d want to join in.” Together they were lead through the capital of Themyscira. It was the middle of the day so the streets were full of beautiful women, many of whom bowed to Ned as they passed. All of them stole a glance or three at his cock as it swung freely.

 

Eventually Nubia and, Arthur’s guard Alexa brought them to a massive white marble temple. Inside lay an empty wide and deep pool of clear blue water, with marble steps leading down into the bottom and a great polished mirror at the other end of the pool.

 

“You are to be blessed with the gifts of the Amazons.” Nubia finally said, after leading them to the steps.

 

“Once you are fully submerged, count to ten, then rise from the pool.” Alexa explained. Ned and Arthur looked to each other for a moment.

 

“You two are the first outsiders since Brandon to be given this gift.” Nubia added. Ned and Arthur accepted their offer and began to enter the pool. They instantly noticed the water began to glow around them when they entered.

 

“Do not be afraid.” Alexa encouraged them.

 

The two men continued on. It felt like the most pleasant bath Ned had ever had. The water was the exact temperature he wished it to be. The aches he had long felt in his body floated away.

 

“The godswood pools aren’t a scratch on this.” Arthur chuckled as their feet reached the floor of the pool, with the water going up to their chests.

 

“I’m tempted to agree with you.” Ned was surprised to be admitting it.

 

Together they took a deep breath and fully submerged themselves in the water. The feeling was so perfect Ned didn’t want to leave. He counted to ten all to quickly for his liking, then grudgingly rose from beneath the water, Arthur did the same.

 

At first Ned thought the water had blurred his vision, but after he rubbed his eyes, Ned still saw the same thing. Arthur Dayne had always been a handsome man, any who denied it were clearly blind or lying. Even so, the man had had approached his forty-fifth nameday that year.

 

Yet looking standing before him, Ned could not say Arthur was any older than thirty. From Arthur’s similar reaction, Ned imagined the water had an equal effect on his own face as well. It was true, Ned had felt better than he had in years, even feeling stronger than ever before, but he had to see it for himself.

 

Ned rushed out of the pool to the mirror and saw a younger man where an older one had stood previously. Arthur quickly did the same.

 

“…What is this?” Ned asked in wonderment.

 

“The gifts of the Amazons.” Nubia proudly stated.

 

“Is this permanent?” Arthur asked, running his fingers over where the creases had been on his face.

 

“The newfound strength is permanent but you will still age, if a little slower than you used to.” Alexa said. “You will need to return to the waters to become younger again.”

 

“Take your time.” Ned heard Nubia’s warm voice. “It will likely take some getting used to.”

 

She was certainly right. It was later in the afternoon when Arthur and Ned left the temple, still adjusting to how their bodies felt now.

 

“I feel stronger than ever.” Arthur said, looking down at his arms as he flexed his muscles.

 

“Me too.” Ned agreed. “Perhaps we should test ourselves in the training arena?”

 

“It’ll be good to get some practice in before we go home.” Arthur smiled.

 

Go home. It shocked Ned that he’d almost forgotten about it. Themyscira and it’s women had been so enchanting…

 

It took them some time to walk to the great marble arena that was the Amazon’s training ground. Two great statues of Amazon warriors in armour with spears and shields stood on either side of the entrance. Ned and Arthur walked under their shadows as they entered the arena.

 

There were several groups of Amazons sparring, with sword, spear and fist, their sisters gathered around them shouting encouragement. The biggest group was around a raised platform in the centre, where Ned recognised Diana fist fighting a dark-skinned Amazon with short black hair.

 

The loudest of Diana’s supporters in the crowd were her two sisters, Hippolyta had introduced them as Donna and Cassie. One favoured Diana in looks while the other more closely resembled Hippolyta.

 

A lot of the fighters were naked, Diana and her opponent were no exception. Ned had seen her body and the way she fought before, but being on the receiving end of her fury meant he hadn’t been given a proper chance to admire her. She was certainly worthy of admiration, with a body surpassing even her mother.

 

Ned and Arthur watched for a time, appreciating their skill in combat before Diana threw her opponent into the sand and raised her hands with a howl of victory, sweating in the warm sun.

 

“Diana is the victor!” An Amazon standing at the side shouted, much to the joy of the spectators.

 

“Are there none who can stand against my sister!?” The dark-haired sister -Donna- shouted proudly.

 

“Ned’ll be happy to try.” Arthur called out, raising Ned’s hand, much to his annoyance. Every Amazon in the arena suddenly turned to face them as Ned glared at Arthur. “He’s already beaten her once…”

 

“He cheated!” Diana shouted instantly. “But I’ll be happy to put him in his place in front of all my sisters.”

 

“I have no wish to fight you…” Ned said, raising his hands.

 

“Then you are a coward.” Cassie laughed.

 

“Do you really wish to fight me?” Ned asked Diana.

 

“I’ll always be happy to knock a man into the dirt, even after he’s received the gifts of Themyscira.” She smirked down at him.

 

“On your own head be it…”

 

All the Amazons in the arena were gathered around the raised platform, their separate sparring matches forgotten. Ned and Diana stood on opposite ends of the circle, with no weapons and no clothing to shield them. The bell had been rung, their fight had just begun.

 

Letting out a battlecry, Diana launched herself at him, aiming a strong kick to his stomach, no-doubt an attempt to knock him out of the raised circle. Ned leapt to the side to avoid her foot, then blocked a punch Diana sent towards his face. He dodged the next blow and put some space between them, remembering to keep his feet light.

 

“Do you plan to run from me the entire fight?” Diana jeered as her sisters cheered her on. The first time they fought, Ned had thought her to be one of the fastest and strongest opponents he had ever faced, that was still true.

 

“I’m unsure,” Ned responded to her taunts. “Do you plan to land a blow at some point?” That brought a scowl to her face. With a yell, she surged forwards, ducking low and aiming her fist at Ned’s stomach, at the last moment he caught her fist in his hand, much to her shock. Still gripping her hand, he spun around, using the momentum of her own attack against her, sending the princess stumbling backwards after he turned around, almost falling off the raised platform.

 

But Diana was an experienced warrior, she regained her footing quickly and aimed a kick to the side of his left leg with her shin. That one certainly connected as Ned nearly felt the leg give out from one blow. The spin had put him out of position, left him vulnerable.

 

He wouldn’t do it again.

 

Now was the time for Ned to aim a few blows at his opponent, she dodged away from his first series of strikes, a probe to test her reaction speed. Ned kept up the pace and hit her with the second series, this one tighter and quicker than the first. This time a blow landed, but she was able to block it in time. Forcing her back, Ned hit Diana with the third series. This time Ned grabbed her guard and yanked it away before his fist connected with her chin.

 

A deathly silence fell on the audience when the blow landed, sending Diana stumbling back. Ned saw a pure fury in Diana’s gaze when she locked at him. He wondered if perhaps he’d made a mistake.

 

The two of them traded blows from fists, elbows, knees and legs. Some were blocked, others were not. On both sides. They both sweated out their fight in the afternoon sun. The longer the fight drew on, the less Diana’s sisters seemed to be sure of her victory.

 

Ned used his metal arm more for defence than attack as he did not want to truly hurt Diana, given her repeated attacks on his cock, Ned did not imagine she felt the same way. Even as they fought each other, Ned could not help but marvel at Diana’s beauty and skill. She was a true warrior.

 

After a mistimed punch, Ned managed to get Diana in a lock and threw her over his hip. She managed to grab him as she fell and they both hit the sand together. They rolled together for a few moments before she was on top of him and Ned was on his back.

 

A great cheer sounded throughout the watching crowd. It was at that time when they both remembered they were wearing nothing at all…

 

Ned and Diana both stilled for a moment, panting as they locked eyes, their blood running hot. Before Ned knew what was happening, Diana’s lips crashed down to claim his own. Ned could hear the cheers of the Amazons dying away slowly until there was only Diana’s moaning as she ground her hips on top of his and their tongues dancing together.

 

“Gods, Diana!” Ned heard one of the Amazons exclaim. “Must you always end up fucking your opponents?”

 

Neither of them cared as they rolled together in the sand. In moments Diana was on her back and Ned was above her, around her, inside her. He was taking her hard and fast, out in the open and in front of her sisters. The Princess screamed and wrapped her legs around his waist as he ploughed her rotten.

 

Ned was dominating Diana as he’d dominated her mother the night before. He pinned her down by her wrists, forcing her hands into the earthy sand as his throbbing shaft surged into her almost painfully tight, silky depths again and again. Ned grunted as he looked into her eyes, wide and glassy in pleasure. He spat into her her mouth and she moaned wantonly.

 

It was some of the most intense fucking Ned had ever experienced. Diana’s skin was flushed with desire and shiny from the physical exertion, the earthy sand sticking to her skin as the echoes of Ned’s balls clapped against her arse cheeks.

 

She seemed to be in a world of her own, her head tilted back, a near constant string of moans tumbling from her lips. Her massive lightly bronzed breasts, bounced back and forth in time with Ned’s thrusts. Small dark, achingly hard nipples just begging for Ned’s attention.

 

“Gods… Hera!” Had been the first coherent words Diana had uttered in some time, her thighs quaking as Ned continued his assault on her cunt. He set a fast, hard, tireless pace, working every inch of her cunt harder than it had ever been worked before. Ned pierced her with every inch of his throbbing meat, again and again.

 

One climax after another was torn from her body. Again and again her cunt squeezed him like a vice as she bathed him in the evidence of her extreme pleasure. Ned pressed hard on Diana’s wrists, pinning both of her arms above her head. She was open and vulnerable to his ministrations. Another hard slam from his hips ripped another rapturous moan from the Princess’s lips as his shaft plundered her depths.

 

“It seems your mother is much better at taking my cock than you are.” Ned grunted into her ear. Just as he expected, that remark lit a fire behind Diana’s eyes, bringing them into burning focus on him.

 

“That old goat doesn’t know the first thing about taking a cock!”

 

“Then show me how you’re her better.” Ned grunted, releasing her wrists from his grip and placing his hands on either side of her head.

 

Diana wasted no time, wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him into an impassioned embrace. Ned began fucking Diana with renewed strength, her own hips rising up to meet him, their bodies colliding in the most lecherous and sublime ways.

 

Diana held his face to hers, nose to nose as their tongues lashed each other. One of Ned’s hands fell to cup one of the immense melons that were currently bouncing on her chest. Playing with her nipple and as their tongues intertwined and their hips slapped together brought Diana to another explosive climax. Her hoarse moans adding to the wet sounds their bodies made as they collided, becoming a divine melody of lust and debauchery with her body as the instrument.

 

“Goooooods! Fuck! Take me!” Diana wailed, pleasure wrecking her body in an explosive eruption.

 

Every inch of the Amazon Princess was quivering, begging him to use her to sate his desires. Every caress of her cunt against his cock was urging him to seed her, to claim her, to make her his.

 

Ned’s mind strayed out of thought and time as he rutted her like a beast. He could have spent moments or days ploughing her and he would not have been able to tell the difference. He and Diana were all that there was, and her perfect, molten cunt.

 

Ned felt a great sense of satisfaction breaking the Princess of the Amazons as he did, the same way he broke her mother the night before. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him in a death-grip, as if he might disappear the moment she let go. Every breath for Diana’s lips was a labour, a high pitched whine or a deep and throaty pant.

 

First her eyes rolled back, closing in pleasure, then her moans began to weaken, not from a lack of pleasure, but from a lack of strength to voice it. After her voice when her legs, unhooking from around Ned’s waist and falling to the ground where they quivered weakly. Finally Diana’s arms loosened around his neck as the fell into a pleasure induced coma.

 

Ned did not care.

 

It made little difference to him if she was awake or not, so he continued to rail her with all his might. Eventually Ned tired of their position and desired to see her bountiful arse bouncing on his cock, so he turned her unconscious body over onto her front with his cock still inside her. The sensations of feeling her cunt rotating on his cock were indescribable in their capacity to pleasure him.

 

Pulling her body up by her divinely wide hips, Ned mounted her like a dog and resumed his domination of her body. The cushioning of the massive, pillowy cheeks of her muscular arse bounced against his pelvis wonderfully, with lewdly loud slaps echoing from their debauched union.

 

Ned’s eyes roamed her muscular back, a thin layer of the earthy sand sticking to her skin with her sweat. Diana was still unconsciously moaning face-down into the dirt as Ned plowed her, taking his pleasure from her body by force.

 

Eventually deciding Diana should be awake for her defiling, he brought his hand down on the fleshy globes of her arse again and again, until the bronzed skin had turned red under the force of the blows.

 

“This is what you wanted.” Ned growled into her ear when she woke, pulling her dark hair back to her face was out of the sand.

 

“Y-y-yessssss…” She moaned almost incoherently.

 

“Said it louder.”

 

“Yes! Yes! This is what I wanted!”

 

“When you heard me taking you mother last night, you wished I was fucking you instead, didn’t you?!” Ned punctuated his question with a hard smack on her behind that made the Princess howl.

 

“YES! YES! I WANTED YOU TO BE FUCKING ME INSTEAD! CLAIM ME! MAKE ME YOURS! I’M YOUR WHORE!”

 

With that, Ned finally unleashed a tidal wave of his seed directly into Diana’s womb. He held her there for what felt like an age, his cock pulsing as he spent rope after rope of his seed inside her. The sensation of being filled clearly triggered another explosive climax from Diana, who’s operatic tones could likely be heard all over the island.

 

When Ned was finally done, he looked up from his broken lover to find that the crowd had devolved into an orgy around them. Arthur was having the time of his life being ridden by two Amazons, one on his face, the other on his cock. A small cough brought Ned’s attention to an Amazon standing beside him. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, dazzling blue eyes and the largest breasts that he had ever seen.

 

“I am Karen.” She said, her monumental chest puffed up for his gaze. “…Could I be next?” In her eyes was a challenge, daring him to take her.

 

Ned only chuckled and withdrew from Diana, still hard…

 

 

———

 

 

The moon was high in the sky as they feasted in the main square of Themyscira, a great circle of long tables had been formed around a massive bonfire at the centre. It seemed every inch of the table was covered in platters of delicious food and cups of wine. There was drinking and laughter and music and song aplenty.

 

Ned sat on a throne next to Hippolyta, she had told him they were celebrating the anniversary of some great victory. Ned could see Arthur in the distance, leaning close to Alexa, making her blush and giggle. It was tempting for Ned to try the same with Hippolyta, he was however stuck to his throne as earlier on, Diana had crawled under the table and was sucking his cock with all her might.

 

Since their altercation in the arena earlier in the day, she had become much more agreeable with Ned’s presence, even seeking him out.

 

“You really are Brandon’s daughter, aren’t you?” Hippolyta laughed when she saw Diana was sucking Ned’s cock next to her.

 

“I’m sure she gets her cock-sucking skills from you.” Ned laughed. It was certainly a first for him, having a conversation with a woman as her daughter pleasured his cock.

 

“No doubt she still has much to learn, Diana couldn’t hope to match my experience.” Hippolyta responded.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” Ned grunted as Diana drew him deep into her throat. She knew her mother was disparaging her talents.

 

“I will not have it!” Hippolyta suddenly stood, ripped off her dress, pulled Ned’s chair out from the table and joined her daughter on his cock. By that point, Ned was passed shocked at anything the Amazons did. None of them even seemed to mind that their Queen and their Princesses were fellating their King together. They weren’t the only ones having sex during the feast, a few dozen feet away, Ned could see Nubia and Korra going at it on the table, knocking platters and cups aside in their fervour.

 

It was quickly apparent that Diana and Hippolyta worked much better together than they ever did apart. Their mouths worked in tandem as they worshiped him together. Ned let out a groan as his hands went to their heads, motioning them up and down the sides of his throbbing member.

 

“Stark,” Ned heard a voice on the other side of the table. He looked up to see Hippolyta’s other daughters, Donna and Cassie standing before him.

 

“Do you know where…” Cassie’s question hung in the air as her eyes drifted down to her older sister and mother on his cock.

 

“I can explain.” Ned managed to choke out.

 

“Without us?” Donna sounded insulted.

 

Before he knew it, he had Hippolyta, Diana, Donna and Cassie all attending his cock together. A Queen and her three daughters. Two with dark hair and two with blonde hair. Ned was sure he could die a happy man with those four attending him at once. Hippolyta and Diana and both chosen a ball to attend, as Donna and Cassie lavished his shaft. The quartet worshiped him for some time, moaning wantonly as their mouths worked away.

 

Ned was nearing his end when he felt something… familiar. Then he heard a mighty roar that shook the foundations of the island. Snowsong. Ned leapt up from the table, all pleasure forgotten.

 

She’s out there and she needs me.

 

They all do.

 

Others were standing, they too heard Snowsong’s cries. It took Ned a moment to determine the direction they were coming from. After another pained whine, Ned began to run, Arthur following behind him. Another roar was met with an Amazon’s battle cry and the sound of a tree being uprooted.

 

Eventually they got to the tree line outside the city near the harbour. Ned saw a group of Amazons attacking his dragon, trying to lash ropes to her to keep her from flying away, a scene of devastation around them.

 

“A mighty beast has landed on our shores!” One of the Amazons shouted when she saw Ned. “I will gift you it’s head!”

 

“I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!” Ned thundered, the temperature dropping from pleasantly warm, to colder than the North in a snowstorm in a matter of moments. Their breath quickly becoming clouds in the cold.

 

The Amazons all froze, even the one hanging from one of Snowsong’s horns. His mighty dragon slowly turned to face him when she heard his voice. Moments later Snowsong was bandying towards him on tired and unsteady legs.

 

She must have been flying to me this whole time, Ned realised.

 

Her head fell to the ground in front of Ned when she reached him, a deep hum emanating from her throat to signify her happiness.

 

“I missed you, girl.” Ned whispered as he threw himself against Snowsong’s maw. Ned knew Arthur was talking to the other Amazons, but he did not care to listen. He was with his dragon again. From the look of her, Snowsong’s wounds were superficial, at worst she seemed exhausted from flying all the way with no food or rest. Feeling his dragon’s scales against him again, Ned could hardly believe he had let them be apart for so long. It shamed him, to have abandoned his family for any time at all.

 

“Is this beast yours?” Ned heard Hippolyta ask him after a time spent stroking his dragon.

 

“Yes.” Ned turned to the Queen, but still keeping a hand against Snowsong, as if she might disappear if he were to let go. “Her name is Snowsong. You will have her wounds seen to, then Arthur and I will return home.”

 

“But you’ve only just arrived.” Hippolyta was clearly surprised.

 

“I know, and you’ve been very kind. But Arthur and I have people who need us back home. We must go to them.”

 

Hippolyta nodded at that. “Then you must go to them.” She said. “But not alone. The Amazons of Themyscira will join you.”

 

 

**********************

Robb

 

 

It was a cold night in Riverrun’s godswood, Robb silently cursed the tradition of the Trial of Winter requiring that he take it wearing only a loincloth. Especially when a thick blanket of snow had been conjured to cover the ground.

 

In a few moments i’ll never feel the cold again, he consoled himself as he stood before the crowd gathered in front of Riverrun’s weirwood. His mothers were in attendance along with his siblings and his lords.

 

Rhaenys was idly stroking circles on her rounding stomach, a small smirk resting on her features as she appreciated just how tight his loincloth was. Looking at her, Robb prayed it would grow no tighter. His wife was a vision of beauty as she always was. Clearly pregnancy and Queendom suited her.

 

The enigmatic Tetra Gilcrest held a bronze goblet high in the moonlight as she recited the ancient spells in the Old Tongue, as incense hung low in the air and a circle of Children of the Forest chanted and beat heavy drums. In spite of the fact that she resided in Winterfell, Robb knew little of Yennefer’s mother other than that she was considered the most powerful magic user in the North and his uncle Beric’s oldest lover. She had arrived with reinforcements from the North along with a portion of Jon’s army including his wives and Beric.

 

Robb remembered the first time he’d ever seen Yennefer being scolded in Riverrun’s main yard when Tetra arrived, for failing to protect her Stark. It was almost as shocking as finding out that she was Yennefer’s mother and Beric was her father. Looking back on the event, Robb recognised that he should probably have realised the relation between the three of the much sooner, given how similar Tetra and Yennefer were.

 

With Tetra’s arrival and the subsequent revelation that Yennefer was some kind of cousin to him, came news: The Twins had been set afire, killing old Lord Walder and the vast majority of his sons. Ser Stevron and Emmon Frey had been remarkably unmoved by the news of the deaths of most of their male family members, souring Robb’s opinion of them even more. Tetra had claimed that it was Tywin Lannister sending his dragonriders to burn the castle in recompense for helping his enemies.

 

Robb knew better.

 

It sickened him what his great-aunt Lara had done in his name, but he saw the wisdom in her words. “The Late Lord Frey could never be trusted. Nor could his sons. Better for them to die sooner rather than later and blame it on our enemy.”   But then he would find his squire Olyvar weeping for his fallen family and Robb would feel the guilt again.

 

“Do you swear to uphold the traditions and practices of house Stark?” Tetra’s crisp voice drew Robb from his thoughts.

 

“I swear.” Robb answered, hoping his wandering thoughts hadn’t distracted him too much.

 

Tetra took a step towards him, the silk of her long black dress shifting as her legs moved. “Do you swear to protect and defend the North till your dying breath?”

 

“I swear.” Robb answered again.

 

Tetra took another step. “And do you swear to rule the North and it’s people with a firm hand, strong arm, fair mind and a kind heart?”

 

“I swear!”

 

The drums silenced as Tetra took her last step to Robb and handed him the goblet, the thick dark-red liquid bubbling inside it.

 

“Then drink, Robb son of Eddard…” She said. “Sleep and rise again as the Stark of Starks!”

 

This was a ceremony all his fathers going back to the son of Brandon the Builder had undergone. The enormity of the legacy Robb was now a part of came crashing down on him in that moment. His last thoughts were of his father as he raised the cup to his lips and drank.

 

It was the single most bitter, disgusting drink he had ever tasted in his life, and Jon had once dared him to drink off-milk mixed with vinegar and lime juice.

 

Robb forced himself to drink every drop, the liquid burning it’s way down his throat. The world began to spin and he was dimly aware of being laid back into a mound of snow which he was then buried in. Strangely enough it was comforting. He fell from the world and saw many things he did not understand, but many things he did. He saw memories from the past come to life before him.

 

There was Rhaenys leading him to the godswood in Winterfell telling him she wanted to give him a nameday gift. Then he was flying on Gnasher for the first time. Then he was forging his crown of bronze and Uru alongside Jon and his sisters.

 

Images and voices swirled around Robb so quickly he couldn’t make sense of them. He felt himself falling, then rising again as he leapt out from under the pile of snow with a mighty howl, cutting through the silence of the godswood.

 

Robb had never felt more alive than in that moment. Every one of his hairs were standing on end. His heart was thundering in his chest as he observed the world in a new light with his newly enhanced senses. Everything felt clearer, more focused. He could hear the sound of a bee’s wings beating together as it hovered from one flower in the godswood, to the next.

 

Locking eyes with Rhaenys, Robb heard her heart beating slightly quicker than usual along with a much softer one slightly below it. It was their child. Is this how father saw the world? A great swell of emotion nearly overtook him in that moment.

 

The silence was broken when the Greatjon yelled “The King in the North!” First Jon joined him, then came Uncle Benjen and all the rest, cheers and shouts echoing all around. Robb felt half a god in that moment.

 

After that, the ceremony was concluded and Jon approached him with a robe while Rhaenys carried his crown, her own resting prettily on her head. Torrhen’s crown had been lost three centuries ago, yielded up to Aegon the Conqueror when he knelt in submission. What Aegon had done with it no man could say. In the traditions of the Stark kings of old, Robb had forged a new crown for himself with his siblings. It was an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine dark uru spikes wrought in the shape of crude longswords.

 

Of gold and silver and gemstones, it had none; bronze and uru were the metals of winter, dark and strong to fight against the cold. A cold that Robb found himself now immune to.

 

“A shame to cover up your body after such an improvement.” Rhaenys smirked as Robb donned the robe.

 

“For the first time in your life, I think you’re taller than me.” Jon added, chuckling. It was true, Robb found his body bulging with muscles he didn’t even know he had, even growing a few inches to overtop his twin.

 

“Alas, I am sure you will find some way to cope.” Robb told his brother, placing his crown atop his head.

 

“We are so proud of you, my son.” His birth-mother’s voice drew his attention to the trio as they stood behind his wife. From the way her hands were fidgeting, Robb could tell she wanted to take him in her arms but was resisting the urge, given the lords in attendance.

 

“I hope to prove worthy of the office I hold.” Robb said in as regal a fashion as he could manage.

 

Thankfully it was becoming easier, being king. Wearing a crown felt like a suit of armour to Robb, it gave him courage and strength he didn’t know lay within him. He felt more than just a man. But even then the weight of his responsibilities could feel heavy.

 

Rhaenys had thankfully taken to being queen much easier than he had being king. There was an ethereal grace to her, an easy charm. Every morn Robb woke with her in his arms, he thanked the gods a woman so remarkable had fallen in love with him. Rhaenys then took his arm.

 

“You already are, my love.” She said as they began to leave the godswood.

 

 

——

 

 

It was later in the day when five dragons were spotted coming from the North. In the night following Robb being declared king and in the face of Tywin’s multiple dragonriders, Robb had sent a message to be read aloud in every keep, city and village in the North. A call for any with Stark blood to come and try to tame a dragon and fight with them, be they noble or common-born. Fortunately there was never a shortage of people with Stark blood in their veins. Along with the dragon came the promise of land and titles when the war ended.

 

It was certainly a gamble, one they had not all been in agreement on taking. However they lived in desperate times, with no idea just how many dragonriders Tywin Lannister had under his control as Jon’s captive was stubbornly refusing to talk. Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen had rolled that same dice during the Dance of Dragons. Robb hoped it would turn out better for him than it did for her.

 

So far only five of house Stark’s riderless dragons had been tamed, and almost twice as many people had died trying to claim a dragon. Robb had gone out to meet them in a field on the northern bank of the Tumblestone, with five dragons to match their’s.

 

Wearing his crown, Robb stood in a row with Jon and Alysanne to his right, with Uncle Benjen and Aunt Lyanna to his left, their dragons and wolves all standing behind them.

 

A show of strength and unity.

 

“Remember while, they may have a few drops of Stark blood, you will not know most of them.” Benjen said, he had been one of those apposed to the idea of the dragonseeds. “Do not expect the kind of loyalty you get from true family.”

 

“Yes, meet them with suspicion from the beginning.” Lyanna’s sarcastic remark earned a hard look from Benjen.

 

“I didn’t mean he should meet them with open hostility, only to remember that no matter what disagreements we might have, we are still family, our loyalty is not a matter of transaction. We have bought these people with dragons, clearly they are for sale.”

 

“You speak wisdom, Uncle.” Robb said, hoping to end the conversation. “But we have no choice.”

 

With his enhanced vision, Robb could name each of the dragons he saw before the others. First he spied Wanderer, the smallest and fastest of the group, then a dragon with the ram-like curved horns and turquoise scales he had only seen on Squid’s Bane. The third dragon was long and thin, and was so blue that it could hardly be seen until a cloud floated over it, Robb knew the dragon to be Icewing.

 

The fourth dragon could eclipse the first three all on his own. The great, spiny, grey mass of Behemoth beat his wings like an albatross as he flew behind them. Robb heard a great rumble from Gnasher behind him. Evidently his dragon was pleased to see his father again.

 

The fifth dragon, Snowfall, was the only dragon in the group to match Behemoth’s size, even beating it. Snowsong’s sister was a beautiful white and blue dragon and in her absence, the biggest dragon that house Stark owned. The dragons circled above Riverrun for a time before Robb flagged them down to the field.

 

Lyanna was the first to speak. “Arra?” She called out to the brown-haired young woman who dismounted Wanderer. His father’s oldest child with Lemore had left Winterfell to become a Witcher studying under their aunt Lyanna. Robb let out a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to question the loyalty of at least one of the dragonseeds.

 

“It’s good to see you, Lyanna.” Robb’s half-sister grinned as she cantered over to them, before turning to Robb. “Must I call you ‘King Robb, your Arch-magnificence-y’ now, instead of ‘Robbie’?” She cackled.

 

“I still call him arse-face from time to time and i’ve received no punishment.” Alysanne threw her arms around Arra. “So call him whatever you like, little sis.”

 

Arra and Septa Lemore’s other two daughters had been raised alongside all of them in Winterfell, they were as much sisters to Robb as Alysanne and Alyrianne were.

 

“Though preferably with some respect when we’re in company.” Robb added, drawing both his sisters into a hug. “I can’t decide if I’m happy to see you or angry that you came to fight in a war.”

 

“I heard about father…” Arra said, quietly. Nothing else needed saying after that.

 

“We are glad to have you here.” Lyanna said when Robb released them. “Perhaps you could introduce your fellow riders?”

 

“Aly Snow.” A grey eyed woman in her thirties bowed her head slightly. “My da’ was a Stark bastard from a couple generations back. I’m a captain of the Dog’s gateway gang in the Winter City.”

 

“A criminal?” Jon asked, his shoulders straightening up. He held no love for the gangs of the Winter City.

 

“A friend of Beric’s.” Aly corrected.

 

Robb narrowed his gaze at her. “I didn’t see you at the collegiate meeting I called.”

 

“I have one of my lieutenants play at being the captain when meetings are called. I find it’s safer that way.”

 

“Clever.” Benjen admitted.

 

Lyanna barked out a surprising laugh that caught them all off guard. “Are you they Aly Snow who had Samara dance naked on a stage to pay off her gambling debts?”

 

“The very same.” Aly smiled.

 

“She taught me everything I know about being a Witcher.” Lyanna laughed. “I owe you a barrel of beer.”

 

“I’m Cleaton and this is my twin sister Cara.” A tall handsome man with dark blonde hair and grey eyes a couple years older than Robb introduced himself loudly, standing next to Snowfall, stroking the dragon’s neck.

 

While the other dragon riders had worn riding leathers, Robb noticed Cleaton had opted for finer garb. He wore a silk shirt, fur cloak, finely made breeches and wore a gold ring on most of his fingers. The man’s sister was standing beside him almost timidly, half behind her brother’s shoulder.

 

“Snowfall is one of house Stark’s finest dragons.” Robb said. “You must be proud, my grandmother was her last rider.”

 

“She was my grandmother too.” Cleaton proclaimed, smugly. “We’re children of your father’s older brother.”

 

“Bastard children.” Jon corrected him. “Our uncle Brandon never married.”

 

“Yes.” Cleaton said through slightly gritted teeth as he looked to the side.

 

“Behemoth must be your dragon then.” Lyanna said to a dark-skinned boy probably the same age as Sansa, certainly the shortest there.

 

“Dagmar, m-m’lady.” He gave a hurried bow.

 

“House Stark owes you all a great debt.” Robb stated, using his kingly voice.

 

“Don’t we know it…” Cleaton said under his breath, clearly not knowing that Robb could hear him easily, but he decided to ignore it.

 

“You will all be given rooms in Riverrun as befits your standing as Dragonriders. With your help, we will win this war and you will all be showered in gold.”

 

That certainly pit a smile on all their faces. Though Benjen was perhaps a bit too quick to mistrust them, he wasn’t wrong. All Robb had to do was keep being the one with the best to offer them.

 

 

——

 

 

Robb sat in the high seat of Riverrun’s Great Hall, with Rhaenys beside him, regal as a queen should be. Their direwolves were at their feet, great hulking masses of grey fur sitting still as sentinels by their masters. All his lords stood along the galleries as they waited for the prisoner to be brought before them.

 

He shifted in his seat slightly, it was smaller and less comfortable than the one in Winterfell. Robb found himself remembering his father’s words “A Prince should never sit easy when conducting his duties, lest he grow complacent.”

 

He supposed that was doubly true for a king.

 

The gods are cruel for taking you, father… You would be a far better king than I could ever be.

 

He heard the footsteps of him being brought to the hall before they opened the door, so he called for his sword. His squire Olyvar offered it up hilt first, Robb had been unable to call Ice to his hand even after taking the Trial of Winter. Tetra had told him the Lannisters must have placed strong wards on it to prevent it from moving where it fell.

 

In the absence of his family sword, Robb had to make do with his own. It wasn’t Jon’s Valyrian Steel longsword, but it was pure black Uru with a weirwood hilt and direwolf’s head for a pommel. The sunlight from the windows glinted off the runes on the naked blade when he drew the sword from it’s scabbard and laid it across his knees, a threat plain for all to see.

 

“Your Grace, here is the man you asked for,” announced Harper as he opened the door, walking the prisoner behind him, then forcing him to his knees in the centre of the hall.

 

He did not look like much of a lion at all, Robb observed. Ser Lucion Lannister was a Grandson to a brother of Tywin Lannister’s late wife, who was herself, a cousin to Lord Tywin. What relation that made him to Cersei, Robb wouldn’t even try to understand, but he was a Lannister knight who had ridden with the Kingslayer who had been captured at the Whispering Wood.

 

The man’s hair was a ratty blonde, he had brown eyes and a long nose. Val looked more like a Lannister than Lucion did. His clothes were worn and dirty from having been kept in the cells with the other prisoners they had taken. He did not lack for company.

 

Once he was down appraising the Lannister, Robb set his voice to ice. “Rise, Ser Lucion.”

 

“Thank you, my lord.” The Lannister did not need to be told twice, he was transfixed by Grey Wind and Mooney as they sat in front of him, their long fangs bared.

 

Robb would have been surprised if everyone in the hall couldn’t smell the fear rolling off the knight as he scrambled to his feat, taking a few steps back until he bumped again Harper, who shoved the Lannister forward, much to the enjoyment for the watchers who laughed as the knight stumbled.

 

“It’s pronounced ’Your Grace,’ scum!” Harper barked as he loomed over the smaller Knight.

 

Ever since the news of his uncle’s and father’s deaths had reached them, Robb had noticed Harper was more angry than he used to be, especially against the Lannister prisoners. Robb could hardly blame him.

 

“Y-your Grace,” Ser Lucion corrected hastily, stumbling back to his feat. “Pardons…”

 

“I have called you from your cell to carry my message to your… cousin Cersei Lannister in King’s Landing.” Robb began in his best ‘King’s Voice’ “You’ll travel under a peace banner, with fifty of my best men to escort you.”

 

Ser Lucion was visibly relieved, the man almost smiled. “Then I should be most glad to bring His Grace’s message to the queen.”

 

“Understand,” Robb said, “I am not giving you your freedom. I want your pledge, on your honor as a knight, that after you deliver my message you’ll return with the queen’s reply, and resume your captivity.”

 

Ser Lucion answered at once. “I do so vow.”

 

“Every man in this hall has heard you,” warned Robb’s uncle Edmure, who spoke for Riverrun and the lords of the Trident, his mother standing beside him. “If you do not return, the whole realm will know you for an oathbreaker.”

 

“I wouldn’t trust a Lannister to tell me the sky is blue.” Tetra stepped forward from the gallery, her voice so sharp it almost made Robb’s teeth ache. Moon-eyes, Tetra’s blind direwolf stood close behind her. “So I shall require a little more from you.” She raised her hand and curled her fingers.

 

Ser Lucion cried out in pain as his hands went to his face, Robb could smell flesh burning. He gave an angry look to his uncle’s lover, the woman had a habit of not listening to others. When her spell was done, Lucion now had a large brand across his right temple, going from his forehead down to his jaw. Robb could not make out all the runes of it clearly.

 

“The mark is a curse on you that no one else will be able to remove. If you break your word to us, you will wither and die.” Tetra said to the whimpering Lannister, suddenly far more afraid of the dark woman than he ever was of the wolves. “…but if you remain true, I shall remove the curse and the mark when you return.” She returned to the gallery and Beric’s hushed scolding. Robb knew he would need to have words with her afterwards.

 

“I-I-I will do as I pledged,” Ser Lucion replied timidly. “What is this message?”

 

“…An offer of peace.” Robb stood, longsword in hand, he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Grey Wind rose to his feet as well. The hall grew hushed. He pointed to tip of his sword down to the Lannister. “Tell the Queen Regent that if she meets my terms, I will sheath my sword, and make an end to the war between us.” There was an almost imperceptible grumble among the Northern lords, Robb chose to pay it no mind. “Olyvar, the paper,” he commanded. The squire took his longsword and handed up a parchment that Robb unrolled and read allowed.

 

“First, my father’s bones will be returned to us, so he may rest beside his brother, mother and father in the crypts beneath Winterfell. My uncle Arthur’s remains will also be sent to Starfall so that he might rest in the tombs of his ancestors. The remains of the Stark men who died in my father’s service at King’s Landing must also be returned, as well as their arms and armour.” He saw his three mothers standing in a row all looking at him from the gallery to his left, all three wore the same stone-faced mask.

 

“Second, my father’s and uncle’s swords will be freed from any and all wards the Lannister mages have placed upon them.” For as long as Robb had remembered, he had wanted to wield his father’s sword. Now that he could, all he wanted was his father back. “Third… the queen will command her father Lord Tywin to release those knights and lords bannermen of mine that he took captive in the battle on the Green Fork of the Trident. Once he does so, I shall release my own captives taken in the Whispering Wood and the Battle of the Camps, save Jaime Lannister alone, who will remain my hostage for his father’s good behavior.”

 

“Lastly,” Robb was getting to the end of the list. “Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claims to dominion over the north. Henceforth we are no part of their realm, but a free and independent kingdom, as of old. Our domain shall include all the Stark lands north of the Neck, and in addition the lands watered by the River Trident and its vassal streams, bounded by the Golden Tooth to the west and the Mountains of the Moon in the east.”

 

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!” boomed Greatjon Umber, a ham-sized fist hammering at the air as he shouted. “Stark! Stark! The King in the North!” The call was echoed a few times by the other lords in the hall before Robb rose his hand for silence.

 

He rolled up the parchment again. “Maester Vyman has drawn a map, showing the borders we claim. You shall have a copy for the queen. Lord Tywin must withdraw beyond these borders, and cease his raiding, burning, and pillaging. The Queen Regent and her son shall make no claims to taxes, incomes, nor service from my people, and shall free my lords and knights from all oaths of fealty, vows, pledges, debts, and obligations owed to the Iron Throne and House Lannister. Additionally, the Lannisters shall deliver ten highborn hostages, to be mutually agreed upon, as a pledge of peace. These I will treat as honored guests, according to their station. So long as the terms of this pact are abided with faithfully, I shall release two hostages every year, and return them safely to their families. Neither Joffrey, nor any of his men shall set foot on my lands again. If he disobeys this command he shall suffer the same fate as my father…” A low rumble emanated from Grey Wind’s maw. “Only I don’t need a servant to do by beheading for me.”

 

“These are…” Lucion uttered, clearly trying to find a way to say “Joffrey would never except these terms” in a way that would keep him his head. “These are…”

 

“-These are my terms.” Robb tossed the rolled parchment at the knight’s feet. “If she meets them, I’ll give her peace. If not…” Grey Wind slowly padded forward snarling. “I will litter the South with Lannister dead.”

 

“King Joffrey is a Baratheon, Your Grace…”

 

“Oh is he...?” My father died because of your bastard king.

 

“Stark!” the Greatjon roared again, and now other voices took up the cry. “Stark, Stark, King in the North!” The wolves threw their heads back and howled.

 

Ser Lucion had gone the color of curdled milk. “The queen shall hear your message, my—Your Grace.”

 

“Good,” Robb said, turning to walk back to his high seat. He looked to Rhaenys who gave him a small, but encouraging nod. “Harper, see that he has a good meal and clean clothing. He’s to ride at first light.”

 

“As you command. Your Grace,” The Chosen Man replied.

 

“Then we are done.” The assembled knights and lords bannermen bent their knees as Robb turned to leave, Rhaenys joining him, linking her hand with his. Their wolves at their heels. Olyvar Frey scrambled ahead to open the door for them. Tetra didn’t even need a look from Robb to follow them out of the hall.

 

“You did well.” Rhaenys said as the walked through the corridor before Tetra caught up to them.

 

“I agree.” The dark-haired Mage said, Robb’s mothers walking behind her.

 

“I could have done without your performance.” Robb told her, Tetra’s gaze distinctly reminded him of the way Balerion looked at anyone who wasn’t Rhaenys.

 

“Performance?” She asked as if she were talking to a child. “And what would you call the bit with the wolves?”

 

She did have him there, and Robb didn’t like it. “Must I remind you, I am a King?” Sounding much more like a child than he had intended.

 

“And a king I shall make sure you remain, even in the face of your foolishness.” Tetra responded.

 

“It is not foolish to offer terms.” Robb’s birth-mother cut in. “We marched to war to protect my homeland and free my husband. Now Ned is lost to us and no amount of killing will bring him back.”

 

“I do not question the offer of terms.” Tetra turned to his mother, affording her more respect than she gave Robb. “But I do question expecting the Lannisters to uphold them.”

 

“I agree with Lady Gilcrest.” Elia said. “Though it would have been netter to bring up the issue in private rather than surprise us all.” Her eyes narrowed.

 

“Now at least if he is not true, he will die soon after.” Robb’s Dayne mother added.

 

“The South has taken too many Starks in my lifetime.” Tetra said, mournfully. “I will not allow it to claim another.”

 

Robb grumbled, but understood her. “Uncle Beric once told me you wouldn’t trust people to plan your own funeral for you.” Tetra chuckled and gave him a wry smile. “If you act on your own wishes, the lords will begin to question your fealty…”

 

“I couldn’t give any less of a crap what they think of me.” Tetra said, fixing him with a stern gaze. “You are Stark. You have had my loyalty since the day you were born.”

 

“Your Grace!” Perkins interrupted them as he ran into the corridor. “Your Grace, the Princess!”

 

Robb had seen Sansa and Alysanne in the Great Hall when he was giving the terms to Ser Lucion, he wondered what possible trouble they could have gotten into since then.

 

“What’s Alysanne done now?” It was the more reasonable guess.

 

“Not her.” Perkins said, breathlessly as he went to them. He had been running.

 

“Then Sansa?” His birth-mother asked.

 

“Princess Myrcella.” Perkins corrected. “She’s here.”

 

What? Robb’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“And she says your father and Arthur didn’t die in King’s Landing.”

 

WHAT!?!?

Notes:

A belated happy Easter to you all!

So it’s been a while… Hope you enjoyed the new chapter, it’s been cooking for a few months. I can’t say when the next one will come, only that i’ll try to lessen the wait time.

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Until next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 27: Chapter 22

Riverrun was a speck in the distance when it eased over the horizon into view. Ned felt like it had been years since he’d seen it last. Which it had been. He felt a twinge along his new arm as he gripped Snowsong’s reins, urging her forward.

 

The first time he had seen that mighty castle he had been younger than his oldest sons, making his way there to wed their mother, with an army at his back marching to war. History has a cruel habit of repeating itself.

 

Arthur was tense behind him, having grown more so since they drew nearer Riverrun. Ned knew his good-brother’s mind. No doubt Arthur was thinking of what he would say to Lyanna upon their return. From the grumbling sound, Ned imagined Arthur was as stumped as he was.

 

Neither of them were the most eloquent of men, preferring to show their meaning in their deeds. Alas what Arthur and Ned had been told when they arrived in Maidenpool required explanations.

 

When Hippolyta had declared that the armies of Themyscira would follow him back to Westeros, Ned imagined that it would take an infuriating amount of time. Much to his surprise, on the following day, just over two thousand of the Amazon’s most elite warriors were assembled and boarding their ships to sail for Westeros. They were only the vanguard.

 

Hippolyta had also instructed a ship to take the stones and mages required to form a Waygate in Winterfell. From there, the rest of Themyscira’s armies could be instantly transported to the North. The only drawback was that they would have to march down south after arriving, but Ned had been told that the gates needed a sufficient source of magical energy in the land around it and Winterfell was the closest and safest option.

 

Hippolyta and her daughters had boarded the lead ship with him and Arthur and through some form of Amazon magic their fleet had been transported to the middle of the Narrow Sea when they had left the isles of Themyscira.

 

The arrival of over a dozen war galleys filled to the brim with warrior women had caused quite a stir in Maidenpool, not to mention the massive dragon. Lord William Mooton had been aghast when he had clapped eyes on Ned and Arthur, telling them Joffrey had told the realm they had been executed.

 

They had certainly missed much in their time away. Lord Mooton gave them a rough explanation of events before Ned decided he would ride straight for Riverrurn on Snowsong.

 

They thought us dead, ran through Ned’s mind. They thought us dead and Robb is now a king… Ned found himself remembering holding his oldest son in his arms. Such a tiny thing. A babe he would have given the world to protect. Now that babe had become a man in his absence. A leader of men. A king who had won multiple battles against seasoned commanders whom even Ned might have been wary of.

 

He had missed so much.

 

Eventually they were close enough to see the men standing on the ramparts of the castle walls, blowing horns and cheering. The castle was surrounded on two sides by a camp of thousands. Ned couldn’t count all the banners he saw fluttering in the breeze as he circled above, but he knew each and every one of them.

 

All the houses of the North marched to free me. It was a bittersweet feeling. The love he had worked hard to earn from them was a powerful thing. It made it all the more tragic when they died in his name.

 

“I think they missed you.” Arthur shouted over the wind and the cheers of the crowds below.

 

“I’ll set us down on the Northern bank. They’re less likely to swarm us there.”

 

There was a gathering of dragons on the Northern bank, it seemed the men of the camp wanted to give them space. Ned could hardly blame them. The ground came up to meet them with a dull thud as Snowsong set her gargantuan mass down on the muddied grass.

 

In the distance he could see his wives on a boat crossing the Tumblestone and his heart leapt into his throat. The time was now and there wasn’t a man or beast in all the realms that could hold him back in that moment.

 

They ran towards Ned as fast as their pregnant bellies would allow. He tried to shout to them but the words caught in his throat, tight with anticipation and longing. Elia was the first to barrel into him, near knocking Ned to the ground. Then came Ash, then Cat. Soon enough all four were weeping happily.

 

In the corner of his eye, Ned could see Lyanna had lifted Arthur off his feet and into a crushing bear-hug, cursing him for making her think he was dead. None of Ned’s wives were forming coherent words yet, tears and fervent kisses were their present language.

 

“I need you,” Elia began to moan against Ned’s lips, stripping at his shirt and breeches. “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

 

His other wives were of a similar sentiment, beginning to divest themselves of their dresses. An errant thought crossed Ned’s mind as his clothes were torn from his body, the armies of the North were just on the other side of the Tumblestone, watching and cheering, especially when Ash and Cat were finally fully nude. When his wives pressed their naked bosoms against him, Ned felt calm.

 

It’s not like I haven’t had them in front of crowds hundreds of times already…

 

Looking over to Arthur and Lyanna, she already had his breeches around his ankles, her head bobbing up and down on his shaft. “It’s been too long, my loves.” Ned said between the fervent kisses. “I have missed you.”

 

They didn’t stay on their feet long. Soon enough Elia was on her back and Ned above her, Ash and Cat pleasuring each other beside them. Looking down as Elia as she breathlessly gazed up into his eyes, Ned fell in love with her a hundred times again. Her rich, flawless dark skin seemed to glow in her motherhood. Elia’s stomach and breasts had swelled in his absence, and Ned was looking forward to mapping the abundance of flesh with his hands, tongue and cock. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from Elia’s hard, dark nipples, the piercings twinkling in the sunlight.

 

“If Cat’s tits hadn’t swelled with her newest pregnancy, I dare say my bosom would match it in size now.” Elia laughed. Ned found it hard to disagree with her.

 

“The Gods certainly have a strange sense of humour.” Ash chuckled as Cat mewled beneath her. “I end up married to two women with massive cow tits in place of normal breasts.” It was true, of all the breasts Ned had seen in his life, Ash had some of the largest. She just had the misfortune to be married to two women who were larger.

 

“Don’t be sad, Ash. We love your petite tits.” Cat cooed in response as Ned and Elia laughed.

 

“They’re not small! They’re as big as your head!” Ash buried Cat’s face into her breasts, showing her wife just how big they were. Ned imagined Cat wasn’t too unhappy with her predicament.

 

A delicate hand wrapping it’s fingers around Ned’s throbbing member brought him back to his partner. “My dear, I think your men want a show.” She giggled. “And I grow tired of waiting for you.” Ned was happy to oblige her. She angled him towards the silky lips of her womanhood, drooling in anticipation of it’s old friend.

 

As Elia wasn’t in her usual shape, Ned had to be more careful in his lovemaking. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck her stupid. With one roll of his hips, Ned urged inch after inch of his shaft deeper within Elia’s cunt. Her eyes rolled back into her head, shivering as her hands gripped the back of Ned’s neck.

 

“Gods… I’ve missed this.” Her eyes were watery with emotion. Ned took her with care, but without mercy. Just the way Elia loved it.

 

Ned’s hands were on the ground either side of Elia’s head as he plumbed her depths, ramming into her slowly and deeply. The tight, muscled walls of her cunt clung to his shaft tightly, loving him, caressing him, begging him to stay.

 

Ned withdrew from his Martell wife then plowed into her again.

 

“You belong to me.” Ned grunted, looking into Elia’s hazy and unfocused eyes, dulled by the pleasures that rippled through her. Ned forced his breathing to steady as Elia’s near oppressive heat radiated to him. His heart thundered in his chest, but his thrusts were measured and strong.

 

They could likely hear Elia’s pleasure-filled wails all over the camp, a signal to that Ned had returned and was reclaiming his wives. She writhed and shivered beneath him, her tongue near lolling out of her mouth, moaning incoherent nothings as Ned fucked her.

 

“Loouuuvvvv yooooooouuu Neeeeeeeeed.” Elia quivered as a climax hit her, then another and another. Ned was tempted to place a hand around her throat, but quickly understood that it probably wouldn’t be good for the baby she carried within her.

 

Ned ploughed her for an age. Ash and Cat both came to explosive climaxes and Ned relentlessly kept ploughing Elia. Tetra came out from Riverrun and cast a glamour over the North bank to give them privacy and Ned carried on fucking Elia, his hips rhythmically slapping her thick thighs.

 

“Give me your womb.” Ned grunted as he felt his end approaching. With one last powerful thrust as Elia cried out and wept tears of joy, Ned felt his cock pulsating deep within her core.

 

Once, twice, five times… A dozen ropes of Ned’s seed filled Elia’s cunt before Ned withdrew from her. His end forcing Elia’s body to it’s own as she shivered and moaned around him.

 

Ned wasn’t given time to admire his work as he was quickly bowled over by a familiar fury friend. It took Ned a few moments to recognise Fang standing over him, licking his face.

 

“It seems your wolf missed you.” Lyanna laughed, her voice partially muffled by Arthur’s cock as she lay on top of him, Arthur’s head buried under her thighs.

 

“I missed you too, boy.” Ned said, before two more animals barrelled into him. Shade and Borgger. His wolf, shadowcat and snowbear were all with him again. Ned felt a sudden pang of sadness that Snowflake was gone.

 

“Alas, I fear your familiars are getting in the way, love.” Ash said as she rose from a quivering Cat. “They can snuggle with you when we’re done.”

 

With that, she moved Cat over to Elia and shoved her face into Elia’s quivering quim. On instinct, their Tully wife began lapping at Elia’s sodden folds, eagerly drinking Ned’s seed from her cunt. With a sly smirk, Ned watched as Ash then positioned herself behind Cat, then bent over, thrusting her immense behind up into the air for Ned.

 

“My cunt has missed you, love.” Ash said, simply. Before she forced her tongue into Cat’s arsehole.

 

“Far be it from me to deny you your heart’s desire.” Ned grinned, sending his familiars away and kneeling behind his Dayne wife.

 

Much like Elia, pregnancy had caused Ash’s curves to expand enticingly. Her arse had always been the best arse Ned had ever seen, let alone felt. The weight she gained from childbearing always seemed to go straight to her arse.

 

Much to Ned’s appreciation.

 

He felt her whimper with excitement when his throbbing shaft slapped down on her massive, olive-skinned arse. “Ned… Plea-eeeeeee!” She whined as Ned plunged every inch of his footlong cock straight into her silky, molten core.

 

Ash’s thighs began to quiver as Ned eased in and out of her, surrendering to him completely. Ned gripped her hips and rammed into her again. Cat’s arsehole muffled Ash’s squeals of delight, her arms barely having the strength to hold her up as he soft, perfect flesh rippled under Ned’s assault.

 

He slammed his cock home, again and again, eyes glued to her quaking behind as it bounced against his hips. Ned and his wives were a daisy-chain of pleasure. He was ramming into Ash’s cunt as she pleasured Cat’s arse with her tongue, as Cat in-turn enthusiastically licked Elia’s cunt. Their Martell wife’s head was thrown back in pleasure, her hands snaking through Cat’s long red hair, gripping it tightly.

 

Ned laid a few hard smacks on Ash’s fleshy arse-cheeks, making the skin glow red under his hand. Evidence of her pleasure began leaking out around his cock by the tenth slap. By the thirtieth, Ash was screaming her climax into Cat’s arsehole, her fingers holding Cat’s thighs in a death-grip for support.

 

“I’ll never grow tired of the sight of all of you together.” Ned chuckled, punctuated by the rhythmic slapping of his thighs against Ash.

 

All his woman moaned in agreement.

 

“And we’ll never tire of your cock!” Ash whined and shivered around him, every tremor through her cunt massaging Ned’s cock. She was smooth as ice, hotter than fire and tighter than a vice.

 

“Fuck me Ned!” Ash cried as Ned pushed her face harder against Cat’s arse. Any other words she might have uttered were lost in the abundance of flesh.

 

Ned began to ride her hard then. Ash was the more dominant of his wives. Sometimes that meant Ned needing to show her where she belonged: under him. This was one of those times. From the sounds that Ned’s was ripping from her throat, Ash was loving every second of it.

 

He slammed the full length of his rod inside his Dayne wife, again and again. By her forth climax, her cunt was drenched in pleasure. Ned sometimes laughed at the woman from the desert kingdom being so wet.

 

Her fifth climax brought Ned to a climax of his own, spilled deep within her as she begged for him to never leave her again.

 

“I promise.” Ned whispered hoarsely into her hair as he fell on top of her back. “I promise…”

 

Ned was sweaty and sticky from his other two wives, but one remained and he would not count himself a man unless he could keep all his wives pleasured. He eased out of Ash with a wet slop, a river of his seed flowing from her cunt into the grass.

 

The air around them was close and heady. Filled with the scent of sex and sweat. Ned rolled a barely conscious Ash onto her back, then next to Elia, who snuggled against her wife as Cat got to her knees.

 

“Naturally, you leave the best till last.” She smiled up at him, her bright blue eyes shining with adoration.

 

“But he fucked me first...” Elia moaned into Ash’s bosom absentmindedly.

 

“Hey!” Cat raised her voice indignantly.

 

“She has the right of it, Tits.” Ash added. “Elia is the best lover out of all of us.” Ned found it hard to disagree with that assessment.

 

Cat sighed then. “I know…”

 

“But you do have the best tits, Tits.”

 

“I know!” Cat was beaming again, raising her pregnancy-enlarged breasts up to Ned’s gaze. “They’re even bigger than before!”

 

“I hardly thought that was possible.” Ned chuckled.

 

“Neither did I.” Cat said. “Now come breed me where I can look at my childhood home.”

 

Ned laughed and went to his knees in front of her position on the grass. “I don’t believe that’s how pregnancy works, my lady.”

 

“Did I misspeak, husband?!”

 

“No…”

 

Cat then got on all fours, looking at Riverrun, her cunt spread and sopping for him. “Then do your duty and pound my cunt until I can’t feel my legs.”

 

“As you wish.” He smiled and mounted her in one smooth motion.

 

Ned was finally home. He’d been inside each of his loving wives and they had welcomed him with open arms and open legs. Cat’s shivering cunt gripped him like it never wanted him to leave. Ned was inclined to agree with it.

 

Ned pounded his Tully wife with all his might. She was a quivering, moaning wreck within the first dozen thrusts. Ned leaned forward and gripped her swollen breasts, burying his nose in her hair as he took her like a wolf. The whole time Ned fucked her in the middle of that field, Cat’s eyes were fixed on Riverrun.

 

“I’ve dreamed of you taking me on the drawbridge.” Cat squealed as she climaxed around Ned’s throbbing member. “In full view of the whole household. You taking their lady like a bitch in heat.”

 

“We still can, if you wish it.” Ned chuckled into her ear, making Cat shiver under him.

 

“You always let me explore my pleasures, love.” It was true. Of all Ned’s lovers, Cat was the biggest exhibitionist he had ever known. A desire he was more than willing to help Cat indulge whenever she wished it.

 

“How does it feel to be taken in a field as the people your home watch on.” Ned grunted, one hand squeezing her breast while the other smacked her fleshy, pale arse.

 

Ned’s answer was a wordless scream and a tide of pleasure streaming from Cat’s cunt, bathing his cock in a delightful torrent of bliss and comfort.

 

“I want to watch you fuck my mother.” Cat cried, her mind dulled with pleasure.

 

“Gods, Cat.” Lyanna exclaimed as she rode Arthur, her large breasts bouncing up and down with her motions. “You really have no limits, do you?”

 

“Nuuuuhhhhh!” Cat moaned in response as Ned gave her a particularly hard ram from behind, making Cat’s arms collapse as she lost all strength, falling face first into the grass.

 

“I want you to fuck me in my old room.” Cat screamed, Ned couldn’t even count the climaxes any more. “I want you to take me in my old bed, in the hall, in the bailey, in the stables, in the barracks, in the pantry, in my mothers bed…” Her list was punctuated by the slapping of her fleshy arse against Ned’s hips as she forced them up to meet him. “And I want them all to watch!”

 

With that, came Cat’s final end as a rapturous climax ripped through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. The tsunami of Cat’s pleasure bathing Ned’s shaft brought forth his own end. With a deep growl, Ned filled his Tully wife with a torrent of his potent seed as she begged him to breed her.

 

Cat quickly lost consciousness as she slumped down into the grass in a heap. Right next to Elia and Ash, both of whom still recovering from their lovemaking. Ned however, was still hard.

 

“Guess your wives can’t keep up.” Lyanna laughed as she rode Arthur, who lay on his back on the grass. “Such a pity you didn’t marry a beautiful Witcher.” She sang. “We can fuck all day and night.”

 

“I remember.” Ned said evenly, looking Lyanna in the eye as she turned over her shoulder to him, daring him to make the next move.

 

“Lya, remember what happened the last time you goaded us.” Arthur said, his hands moving up and down Lyanna’s pale thighs.

 

“Oh, I well remember.” Lyanna answered. “I remember that I was able to handle both your greatswords with ease.”

 

Ned raised an eyebrow as he walked towards them. “Ease?” That wasn’t how he remembered it. From Arthur’s expression, that wasn’t how he remembered it either.

 

“Perhaps you need reminding, my dear.” Arthur said as he hooked his arms under Lyanna’s knees, lifted her up and rose to his feet. She gave a small shriek and giggled as Arthur held her off her feet. Ned settled behind her, feeling her back against his chest.

 

“I can take you both.” Lyanna was defiant, but Ned could see the mischief in her eyes. “Any time, any place.”

 

“Come now, Lya.” Ned lined his cock up with her arsehole as Arthur occupied her cunt. “All three of us know that isn’t true.”

 

Slowly but surely, Ned eased his cock-head passed the muscled ring of Lyanna’s arsehole, then the rest of his shaft. Arthur had stopped thrusting so she could adapt to them both, but remained inside Lyanna. She leaned back into Ned’s chest, wanting more of his cock up her arse.

 

“I missed you both.” Lyanna’s eyes were glassy as Arthur and Ned filled her together. “Very, very much.”

 

“We missed you too.” Ned said, putting his hands on her hips.

 

“Show me how much.” She kissed him.

 

At the Witcheress’ command, Ned and Arthur began to fuck her together, both of them thrusting inside her holes with all their might. Unlike his wives, Ned knew Lyanna could take his strength. He felt her well-muscled body run hot against his skin, flushing in pleasure.

 

Arthur held Lyanna up by her legs as Ned teased her large breasts with his hands, cupping them and squeezing them. Teasing her nipples to make her cream around them.

 

Lyanna’s arsehole was tighter than the cunts of any of his wives. It took all Ned’s might not to spend himself quickly as he thrust deep into her tight hole. Lyanna was moaning and shivering in delight, her mouth switching between kissing Arthur and kissing Ned.

 

All three of them were tired after a while. Lyanna’s climax came first, then again. Arthur’s end came with Lyanna’s third climax. Ned’s came with her fifth, filling her arse with his seed before laying her on the ground with his wives.

 

Ned fell back into the grass beside a panting Arthur, both of them near exhausted. “It’s good to be back, no?” Ned chuckled.

 

Arthur laughed heartily. “I’m surprised we managed to stay away that long.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

“So why do you both look so young all of a sudden?” Lyanna asked, frankly when they had all recovered, washed and dressed. She had never been one to mince her words. Ned’s sister had not an ounce of refinement in her, something he was greatly amused by.

 

Ash added. “Yes, I was wondering why you looked five and ten years younger.”

 

Ned and Arthur regaled them with tales of Themyscira and what they had done there. Each of the women listened with rapt attention, curious as to where Ned and Arthur had spent their time away.

 

“I’m unsure if I like how young you look now.” Cat placed a hand on Ned’s face, looking into his eyes. “From the look of you, you could be my son.” Ash and Elia laughed at that.

 

“Cat has the right of it.” Elia chuckled. “I’ve sometimes felt like a cradle-snatcher being with a man five years my junior, now I don’t know if I am able to look you in the eye while we make love.”

 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that earlier.” Lyanna gave Elia a slap on the behind, much to the laughter of those around them.

 

“I liked your grey hairs, Ned.” Ash added. “They made you look more grizzled… domineering…”

 

“Do I take it none of you will want to partake in Themyscira’s youthful waters then?”

 

“-We never said that!” Cat interjected quickly, making Arthur and Ned laugh.

 

“It matters not at present.” Ned said. “Come, it’s been too long and I want to see my children.”

 

After their tearful and salacious reunion on the banks of the Tumblestone, the group retreated into Riverrun where Ned was met with a veritable tide of people coming to greet him and Arthur. So many large men gripped him in tight bear-hugs that Ned thought his ribs might burst. Harper was the first man to greet him, Ned could have sworn he saw tears in the big man’s eyes, after him came a long line of others. If Sylvie had been able to have her way, she would have been fucking Ned in the centre of Riverrun’s courtyard. Unfortunately for her, Ned’s children were there so he had to decline her.

 

Eventually they made their way through the throng to a solar where they could talk privately. Their wolves all waited outside as Ned, his wives, his children, Lyanna, Benjen, Arthur, Beric, Tetra, Yennefer and Triss talked within. Once they were in the privacy of closed doors, Jon, Robb, Alysanne, Sansa and Rhaenys flung their arms around him again.

 

Ned found himself surrounded on all sides by his children. It was a feeling he had missed in recent times.

 

The sun was beginning to fall over the horizon when he and Arthur were done telling them all what had happened to the two of them since their capture. “Well if these… Amazons… are as strong as you make them out to be, they shall be a substantial asset for our side.” Tetra mulled over Ned’s information with a glass of wine in hand, her blue eyes poking out under the rim of her obscenely large witch’s hat.

 

“I would have trouble believing it had I not seen them for myself.” Arthur stated. “These women could put the Ice Guard to shame with their training.”

 

“I’d like to see that.” Lyanna smirked, her arm around Arthur’s waist, where it had been since the moment they’d walked into the solar. “I’ve read about the Amazons in the Winterfell library, the Lusty Wolf called them the most formidable fighters he’d ever seen.”

 

“Two thousand warrior women are marching towards us at this moment…” Jon said, voice half in awe. Having been a young man himself once, Ned knew exactly where his son’s thoughts were turning.

 

Alysanne quickly piped up. “I should go out to meet them.” Ned’s wives chuckled, Ash rolling her eyes. “…They might need… directions-”

 

“No!” Sansa cut off her older sister. “Sunbeam’s much faster, I should go.”

 

Ned raised his hand as he leaned against a large wooden desk. “Have you grown so tired of my company that you should wish to leave so quickly?”

 

“Of course not, father.” Both his daughters said hurriedly before Sansa added. “I only…”

 

Lyanna barked out a laugh, giving a wolfish grin. “She wanted to have her pick of the finest Amazons to claim before your sons cuckolded her again.”

 

Sansa went red in the face. “Auntie!”

 

“There are more pressing matters for us to attend to.” Robb said in a commanding tone, Ned had almost forgotten his son had been crowned a king in his absence.

 

“Yes.” Tetra interjected over her glass of wine. “Like how you got that shiny metal arm.” Ned looked down to his new limb, flexing his fingers. It was almost strange that he’d gotten so used to it in such a short amount of time.

 

“I meant the matter of the crown .” Robb gave Tetra a stern look -a look Ned had also given her on multiple occasions- before turning to him. “The crown that is by all rights yours now.”

 

Well he had to broach the topic sooner or later.

 

“Stannis is the man with the right. He is Robert’s heir.” Ned stated. From the reactions of the others, Ned could tell it was clearly an unpopular opinion. “I sent word to Stannis telling him the throne was his.” He turned to Yennefer. “You knew my wishes, yet allowed my son to be crowned king?”

 

Breic stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “As far as we knew you were dead.”

 

“So you were to ignore my last wishes?”

 

“So we did not wish to lose more Starks to the folly of the Iron Throne.” Tetra stood tall, defiantly meeting Ned’s gaze. “Too long have we been supplicants to southern kings. We would be well rid of them all.”

 

Ned found himself remembering that he’d had her thrown into Winterfell’s dungeons the last time they had met. “And what will Stannis think of this? Lannisters are our only enemy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you really need to seek more in my absence?”

 

Then it was Jon who spoke up. “The Lords of the North and Riverlands are the ones who crowned him king. Robb didn’t wish for it.”

 

They could not see, how could they not? Ned needed to tell them. “Stannis was Robert’s true heir, he is king by all laws of the land. He is a prickly man who never held great affection for me. How do you think he’ll react to my son claiming kingship of more than half the realm?”

 

Lyanna gave an exasperated grunt. “The milk’s been spilled, there’s no use quibbling over it now.”

 

“You are right in that…” Ned took a breath, looking down, the weight of the world hanging heavy on his shoulders. “Forgive me, I have been gone too long and much has changed.” Shame came then. He had been away when his family had need of him most. First with Lyanna, then his father and brother, now with his children.

 

“But there are some things that never will change, my love.” Cat’s voice was as soft as silk as she glided over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, her clear blue eyes meeting his. “We are all glad you are alive and with us again.”

 

“As am I.”

 

Alysanne pipped up, turning to Robb inquisitively. “Would you have to give up the Trial of Winter too?”

 

“The Trial…?” Caught up in the moment, Ned hadn’t realised Robb would have had to undergo the Trial when he ascended to the Stark of Starks. Robb held out his hand as his eyes glowed blue and a sword of ice formed in his hand. A myriad of emotions filled Ned. Though they were mostly eclipsed by his pride for his oldest son and his sadness that it needed to be done.

 

“Only if you wanted to kill him.” Yennefer answered.

 

“-Well we can’t do that then...” Jon cut in. “Can we?” That earned him a punch on the shoulder from his twin.

 

“What’s been done cannot be undone.” Tetra affirmed. “Robb will have these gifts until his death, as will Ned.”

 

“Aren’t there rules against it?” Robb asked. Ned wondered the same thing himself. Thinking back on all the histories of the Starks he had read, he couldn’t remember a time when more than one living Stark had undergone the Trial of Winter.

 

“…No.” Triss said, likely having gone through her knowledge of house Stark like Ned had. “But it has been sacred tradition that only the Stark of Starks would take the Trial.”

 

Alysanne barely waited a moment at that. “Does that mean the rest of us could-“

 

“No.” Ned cut in quick. It was difficult enough to herd his children when they couldn’t match him in power, the thought of them all having all the powers of winter at their command sent a shiver through his spine.

 

“Father!”

 

“No.” Ash affirmed, siding with Ned before he continued.

 

“Besides, from what I’ve heard, you hardly need them. You’ve all done quite well in my absence.”

 

“The pups certainly did well.” Beric chuckled. “In spite of certain revelations about Tywin Lannister’s big scaly beasts.”

 

“His dragons…” Ned grimaced. He had to admit, war hadn’t been as daunting a prospect when his side had dragons and the Lannisters didn’t. Walking around the large oak desk in the solar, Ned splayed out the maps that had been strewn there. “Tell me all…”

 

It was night by the time they had all finished discussing the war. After a each of them drew Ned and Arthur into their arms, they left one by one. Eventually only Ned remained with his wives in the solar.

 

“Perhaps we should all go to bed?” Elia said with a half smile. “You gave us appropriate greeting earlier, but now I think it’s time we get properly reacquainted.”

 

The thought of a warm bed with his warmer wives was certainly enticing. “There is nothing i’d like more. But there are a few letters I must write before.”

 

“To whom?” Cat asked. “Can they not wait till the morn?”

 

“Your sister has not pledged her forces to our aid. I shall write her and the lords of the Vale telling them of my return and asking for their assistance.” He had known the names of every lord and lady of the Vale since childhood. Being fostered with Jon Arryn had given Ned strong bonds in the Vale, bonds he now found himself hoping to pull on.

 

Cat seemed to consider her words for a moment as Ned began to write, looking into a lone candle on the desk that had been lit at the rising of the moon. Ash gave a slight nod, her mouth speaking silent words to Cat that he did not hear. “My sister is mad, and I have a strong suspicion that Jon Arryn did not father her son.”

 

Ned accidentally snapped the quill in his hand, the two pieces flopped clumsily to the table splashing ink on the parchment. “…Truly?”

 

Ned’s heart sank when he saw Cat’s eyes. “On the Mother, Sweetrobin is Petyr’s bastard.”

 

Jon Arryn had been one of the best men Ned had ever known, a second father to him after his mother had passed in childbirth. That he had been murdered with no blood children to succeed him tied Ned’s stomach in knots. “Gods be good...”

 

Littlefinger died too quickly.

 

“Then I will write to Lord Royce, Lady Waynwood and the other most powerful lords of the Vale.” Ned rose to retrieve another quill. “I will tell them of the Lannister’s and Lysa’s treacheries. I have known them all since I was a boy, my words will stir them to action.”

 

Cat placed a hand on his arm, locking her eyes with his. “They’ll kill her and her son.” She said. “Madness or no, they both share my blood…”

 

“Lysa and her son are no threat to anyone, but I will tell the my old friends of the Vale that I would consider it a personal debt if they were spared.”

 

Ash was one to talk now, walking out from the bedchamber in her small-clothes. “All this talk of writing to Lords and Ladies and you forget who is most in need of letters. You must write to our children before you write to the Vale.” She said, sternly. “They still think their father is dead. You will write to our children then you will come to bed, my love. The rest can wait the night.” She began to drag Cat towards the bedchambers where Elia claimed the middle of the bed.

 

“Then it seems I will need write quickly.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

For the first time in what felt like an age, Ned woke with his wives around him. The four of them were all tangled together in an intricate lattice of arms and legs. It was more peaceful than Ned had been since he’d left Winterfell. His children were safe, he was with his wives, he was content.

 

Ned wanted to spend all day in bed, but he knew he could not. After rising from his wives, much to their displeasure, he began to dress. They had decided before going to sleep what he would do. Taking Sansa and Aly Snow with him, they would ride on dragonback to Stannis, stopping at Renly’s camp on the way. The Lannisters were the true enemy, that was something they should all agree on. Ned would bring Robert’s brothers together again so they could all face the Lannisters as one.

 

So with an all too soon goodbye, Ned left Robb in command, mounted Snowsong and began the long flight to the South. Fang and Lady both followed them from the land, it gladdened Ned’s heart to be near his wolf again.

 

As Snowsong was by far the largest dragon, she took the lead, with Sansa flying behind on the much smaller Sunbeam. Thankfully, she seemed to have recovered from her illness as well as Snowsong had. The horned orange and red dragon seemed in good spirits to be with it’s mother and older sister again.

 

Icewing, Aly Snow’s sky-blue dragon was near eighty years Sunbeam’s senior and, certainly oversized her sibling. The sky-blue dragon was over two-hundred feet long. Certainly a formidable opponent for most dragonriders. Though Ned was comfortable in the knowledge that should she attack Sansa’s dragon, Snowsong would be able to deal with her handily.

 

The thought of men and women he didn’t know claiming Stark dragons put Ned ill at ease, but war was an uneasy time and his sons had needed to play the hand they were dealt. While Tywin’s dragons had all seemed small, there was enough of them to warrant his sons actions.

 

It mattered not what Ned felt about these Dragonseeds, the cup had already been spilled. Of course, if they had all been his children, then that would have been a different matter altogether. Arra was certainly one he could trust, Aly on the other hand… Ned had known her, she was a Captain of the Winter City gangs and had been for some time, they never lived long if they weren’t devious. Beric had vouched for her but Ned had wanted to see for himself, so she joined Ned and Sansa on their journey.

 

They flew over towns and holdfasts as they made their way south, some were smoking ruins while others had bands of mailed men marauding through them. Once across the Blackwater, the worst was behind. For most of their flight afterward they had seen no signs of war.

 

Ned thought of Renly when they set their dragons down to rest and drink by a large lake. Their mounts needed rest and their direwolves had needed time to catch up. Ned sat on a rock overlooking the lake, Fang on one side of him, with Ice and Foesmasher laid out on the other. Sansa sat in the shade of a tree, leaning against Lady, running a cloth over Lady Malice, a curved sword of blue Uru that Sylvie had gifted her with before they left. Aly was slightly further away, skipping stones on the lake as the dragons drank from it greedily.

 

The last time Ned had seen Renly, he’d urged Ned to strike against Cersei in the night. Perhaps fewer would have died that way… Ned shook the thoughts from his head. He abandoned you when you needed him, he told himself. He knew you planned to crown Stannis as heir, yet now he styles himself King. It was true, Renly would have much to answer for when Ned saw him again. His metal hand clenched into a fist. Much indeed…

 

“If the map is right, this lake feeds the upper part of the Mander.” Aly’s call broke Ned’s contemplation. “Beyond that, Renly shouldn’t be far.”

 

“Then we should not tarry.” Ned rose from his rock. “We’ll have Stannis to see after him.”

 

It was half a day’s ride more when they glimpsed Renly’s camp in the distance. Ned decided they should proceed the rest of the way on foot, as three dragons flying towards them would set Renly’s camp into a frenzy, an unproductive starting point for negotiations. So they found a clearing for their dragons to land and mounted on Lady and Fang, with Aly behind Ned on his saddle.

 

They were maybe two miles from Renly’s camp when his outriders set upon them, twenty men mailed and mounted, led by a man who looked to be twice Ned’s age with bluejays on his surcoat.

 

Though it was twenty on three, their horses seemed skittish and prone to bolting when confronted with the pair of direwolves. Their leader tentatively urged his horse forward, noting the direwolf on Ned’s riding leathers.

 

“I am Ser Colen of Greenpools.” He declared, his eyes dropping to Fang and Lady and the direwolf sigil on Ned’s riding leathers. “Am I to understand that you are emissaries of the Young Wolf?”

 

“I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Prince and Warden of the North.”

 

A confused look passed over the aged knight’s face. “We’d heard Eddard Stark was dead.”

 

“Rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

 

“Don’t play me for a fool.” The knight said, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “You don’t look old enough to have fought in Robert’s Rebellion.”

 

“I know I don’t.” Ned said, removing a glove and holding his metal hand aloft, thunder rumbling above them. “I also lost this arm to the Kingslayer and yet now I have another. I wield Ice and Foesmasher, I ride Fang: the Demon of Pyke, my dragon is Snowsong, she’s a few miles back. I am who I say I am.” The group of men began to shift uncomfortably as the weather took a turn under Ned’s command. “And I have business with the man you call King.”

 

They were quite for a moment. “As you wish…” Ser Colen finally said. “His Grace is encamped with his host near Bitterbridge. We will escort you.” The knight raised a mailed hand, and his men formed a double column flanking Ned, Sansa and Aly.

 

They saw the smoke of the camp’s fires when they were still an hour from the river. Then the sound came drifting across farm, field and rolling plain, indistinct as the murmur of some distant sea, but grew louder as they rode closer. By the time they caught sight of the Mander’s muddy waters glinting in the sun, they could make out the voices of men, the clatter of steel, the whinny of horses.

 

Thousands of cookfires filled the air with a pale smoky haze. The horse lines alone stretched out over leagues. A forest had surely been felled to make the tall staffs that held the banners. Great siege engines lined the grassy verge of the roseroad, mangonels and trebuchets and rolling rams mounted on wheels taller than a man on horseback. The steel points of pikes flamed red with sunlight, as if already blooded, while the pavilions of the knights and high lords sprouted from the grass like silken mushrooms. Ned saw men with spears and men with swords, men in steel caps and mail shirts, camp followers strutting their charms, archers fletching arrows, teamsters driving wagons, swineherds driving pigs, pages running messages, squires honing swords, knights riding palfreys, grooms leading ill-tempered destriers.

 

“They certainly seem to have numbers.” Aly observed as they crossed the ancient stone span from which Bitterbridge took its name.

 

“Indeed they do.” Ned agreed.

 

Near all the chivalry of the south had come to Renly’s call, it seemed. The golden rose of Highgarden was seen everywhere: sewn on the right breast of armsmen and servants, flapping and fluttering from the green silk banners that adorned lance and pike, painted upon the shields hung outside the pavilions of the sons and brothers and cousins and uncles of House Tyrell. Roses were not all Ned could see however, there must have been hundreds of other sigils dotted about the camp. All the houses of the Reach. Some Ned recognised, but many he did not. He could spend a day and a night counting them all and not be done. Across the Mander, the storm lords had raised their standards. It didn’t escape Ned’s notice that the vast majority of the storm lords had joined Renly. It seemed they shared little love for Stannis. The combined might of the Reach and the Stormlands had come to make Renly Baratheon a king in fact as well as name.

 

Renly’s own standard flew high over all. From the top of his tallest siege tower, a wheeled oaken immensity covered with rawhides, streamed one of the largest war banners that Ned had ever seen—a cloth big enough to carpet many a hall, shimmering gold, with the crowned stag of Baratheon black upon it, prancing proud and tall. Ned dared not imagine the cost of all the pageantry that lay before him.

 

“Father.” Sansa urged Lady closer. “Can you hear that?”

 

He listened. Shouts, and horses screaming, and the clash of steel, and… “Cheering,” he said. They had been riding up a gentle slope toward a line of brightly colored pavilions on the height. As they passed between them, the press of men grew thicker, the sounds louder. And then he saw.

 

Below, beneath the stone-and-timber battlements of a small castle, a… melee was in progress. A melee? During a war?

 

A field had been cleared off, fences and galleries and tilting barriers thrown up. Hundreds were gathered to watch, mayhaps thousands. From the looks of the grounds, torn and muddy and littered with bits of dented armor and broken lances, they had been at it for a day or more, but now the end was near.

 

Fewer than a score of knights and Witchers remained ahorse, charging and slashing at each other as watchers and fallen combatants cheered them on. Ned saw two destriers collide in full armor, going down in a tangle of steel and horseflesh.

 

“They’re holding a fucking tourney?!” Aly was astounded, leaning to the side to look around Ned.

 

“Perhaps they’ve forgotten there’s a war.” Ned said as a knight in a rainbow-striped cloak wheeled to deliver a backhand blow with a long-handled axe that shattered the shield of the man pursuing him and sent him reeling in his stirrups.

 

The press in front of them made further progress difficult. “Prince Stark,” Ser Colen said, “I’ll present you and your… daughters to the king.”

 

“I’d be a cousin of Ned’s, I think, not a daughter.” Aly interjected.

 

“My apologies, my Lady.” The knight said as he walked his horse slowly through the throngs, with Ned and Sansa riding in his wake, the people moving a bit further away when they saw the direwolves. A great roar went up from the crowd as a helmetless red-bearded Witcher went down before a big knight in blue armor. His steel was a deep cobalt, even the blunt morningstar he wielded with such deadly effect, his mount barded in the quartered sun-and-moon heraldry of House Tarth.

 

“Red Ronnet’s down, gods be damned,” a man cursed.

 

“Loras’ll do for that blue—” a companion answered before a roar drowned out the rest of his words.

 

Another man was felled, trapped beneath his injured horse, both of them screaming in pain. Squires rushed out to aid them.

 

This is madness, Ned thought. Real enemies on every side and half the realm in flames, and Renly sits here playing at war like a boy with his first wooden sword. Ned felt his anger bubbling within him. Would that you were half the man Robert was…

 

The lords and ladies in the gallery were as engrossed in the melee as the men on the ground. Ned marked them well. He’d even held some prisoner during the Rebellion. He recognized Lord Mathis Rowan, stouter and more florid than ever, the golden tree of his House spread across his white doublet. Below him sat Lady Oakheart, tiny and delicate, and to her left Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, his greatsword Heartsbane propped up against the back of his seat.

 

In their midst, watching and laughing with his queen by his side, sat a ghost in an ornate golden crown.

 

Small wonder the lords gather around him with such fervor, Ned thought, he is near Robert come again. Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome, almost; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes. The smile was wrong though. Robert only smiled when he was happy, he did not care what others thought. Renly was smiling to be seen as happy by others. There was a performance to it.

 

The slender circlet around his brows seemed to suit him well. It was soft gold, a ring of roses exquisitely wrought; at the front lifted a stag’s head of dark green jade, adorned with golden eyes and golden antlers.

 

The crowned stag decorated the king’s green velvet tunic as well, worked in gold thread upon his chest; the Baratheon sigil in the colors of Highgarden. The woman who shared the high seat with him was also of Highgarden: his queen, Margaery. Ned wondered how Renly would ever think she resembled Lyanna, they looked as different as Sansa and Arya. Behind her, sat Alerie, as beautiful as ever.

 

Out in the field, another man lost his seat to the knight in the rainbow-striped cloak, and the king shouted approval with the rest. “Loras!” He heard Renly call.

 

“Loras! Highgarden!” The queen and her mother clapped their hands together in excitement.

 

Ned turned to see the end of it. Only four men were left in the fight now, and there was small doubt whom king and commons favored. Ned remembered the brash young Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras rode a tall white stallion in silver mail, and fought with a long-handled axe. A crest of golden roses ran down the center of his helm.

 

Two of the other survivors had made common cause. They spurred their mounts toward the knight in the cobalt armor. As they closed to either side, the blue knight reined hard, smashing one man full in the face with his splintered shield while his black destrier lashed out with a steel-shod hoof at the other. In a blink, one combatant was unhorsed, the other reeling. The blue knight let his broken shield drop to the ground to free his left arm, and then the Knight of Flowers was on him. The weight of his steel seemed to hardly diminish the grace and quickness with which Ser Loras moved, his rainbow cloak swirling about him.

 

The white horse and the black one wheeled around each other, the riders throwing steel as the crowds roared. Ned found himself thinking of the Trident and the terrible battle it had been. Longaxe flashed and morningstar whirled. Both weapons were blunted, yet still they raised an awful clangor. Shieldless, the blue knight was getting much the worse of it. Ser Loras rained down blows on his head and shoulders, to shouts of “Highgarden!” from the throng. The other gave answer with his morningstar, but whenever the ball came crashing in, Ser Loras interposed his battered green shield, emblazoned with three golden roses. When the longaxe caught the blue knight’s hand on the backswing and sent the morningstar flying from his grasp, the crowd screamed like a rutting beast. The Knight of Flowers raised his axe for the final blow.

 

The blue knight charged into it. The stallions slammed together, the blunted axehead smashed against the scarred blue breastplate... but somehow the blue knight had the haft locked between steel-gauntleted fingers. He wrenched it from Ser Loras’s hand, and suddenly the two were grappling mount-to-mount, and an instant later they were falling. As their horses pulled apart, they crashed to the ground with bone-jarring force. Loras Tyrell, on the bottom, took the brunt of the impact. The blue knight pulled a long dirk free and flicked open Tyrell’s visor. The roar of the crowd was too loud for Ned to hear what Ser Loras said, but he saw the word form on his split, bloody lips. Yield.

 

The blue knight climbed unsteady to his feet, and raised his dirk in the direction of Renly Baratheon, the salute of a champion to his king. Squires dashed onto the field to help the vanquished knight to his feet.

 

“Approach,” Renly called to the champion.

 

He limped toward the gallery. At close hand, the brilliant blue armor looked rather less splendid; everywhere it showed scars, the dents of mace and warhammer, the long gouges left by swords, chips in the enameled breastplate and helm. His cloak hung in rags. From the way he moved, the man within was no less battered. A few voices hailed him with cries of “Tarth!” and, oddly, “A Beauty! A Beauty!” but most were silent. The blue knight knelt before the king. “Your Grace,” he said, his voice muffled by his dented greathelm.

 

“You are all your lord father claimed you were.” Renly’s voice carried over the field. “I’ve seen Ser Loras unhorsed once or twice... but never quite in that fashion.”

 

“That were no proper unhorsing,” complained a drunken archer nearby, a Tyrell rose sewn on his jerkin. “A vile trick, pulling the lad down.” Ned had half a mind to tell him that they were playing at war and in real war you took every advantage you could get.

 

The press had begun to open up. “Ser Colen,” Ned said to his escort, “who is this man, and why do they mislike him so?”

 

Ser Colen frowned. “Because he is no man. That’s Brienne of Tarth, daughter to Lord Selwyn the Evenstar.”

 

“Daughter?” Ned raised his eyebrow. It was certainly uncommon for daughters to be warriors in the south anywhere other than Dorne. At that, Sansa let out a whistle and cheer for Brienne, supporting another woman warrior.

 

“Brienne the Beauty, they name her... though not to her face, lest they be called upon to defend those words with their bodies.”

 

“So only cowards then.” Aly chuckled behind Ned, he was inclined to agree with her.

 

He heard King Renly declare the Lady Brienne of Tarth the victor of the great melee at Bitterbridge, last mounted of one hundred sixteen knights. “As champion, you may ask of me any boon that you desire. If it lies in my power, it is yours.”

 

“Your Grace,” Brienne answered, “I ask the honor of a place among your Rainbow Guard. I would be one of your seven, and pledge my life to yours, to go where you go, ride at your side, and keep you safe from all hurt and harm.”

 

“Done,” he said. “Rise, and remove your helm.”

 

She did as he bid her. And when the greathelm was lifted, Ned understood Ser Colen’s words.

 

Beauty, they called her... mocking.

 

And yet, when Renly cut away her torn cloak and fastened a rainbow in its place, Brienne of Tarth did not look so unfortunate. Her smile lit up her face, and her voice was strong and proud as she said, “My life for yours, Your Grace. From this day on, I am your shield, I swear it by the old gods and the new.” The way she looked at the king—looked down at him, she was a good hand higher, though Renly was near as tall as his brother had been—was almost painful to see.

 

“Your Grace!” Ser Colen of Greenpools swung down off his horse to approach the gallery. “I beg your leave.” He went to one knee. “I have the honor to bring you Eddard Stark Prince of Winterfell, accompanied by his daughter and cousin.”

 

Ned and Sansa urged their wolves forward into the tourney grounds, the crowds parting for them. Ned could hear a faint gasp from the lords gallery at the sight of him. Though he didn’t fail to notice that Margaery’s eyes were focused on Sansa.

 

Renly looked looked as if a ghost stood before him, Ned could hardly blame him. “N-Ned?” Renly looked younger than his six-and-twenty years in that moment as Ned dismounted Fang. “I-I…” Renly stammered. “You…”

 

“You thought me dead, I know.” Ned said, tersely. “Another Lannister lie, I’m afraid.”

 

The wheels in Renly’s head were turning, then he seemed to realise all eyes were on him. “I’m glad to see you alive and well, my friend…” He was almost sincere.

 

Where were you when I needed you? Running into the arms of the Tyrells.

 

“Then I hope we should be able to talk as friends, my lord.” Ned bit his tongue. It wouldn’t do to insult the man he came to negotiate with.

 

“Your Grace,” Brienne the Blue corrected sharply. “And you should kneel when you approach the king.”

 

“The distance between a lord and a grace is a small one, my lady,” Ned said. “Lord Renly wears a crown, as does his brother, and my son, and Joffrey... If you wish, we may stand here arguing what honors and titles are rightly due to each until winter comes, but it strikes me that we have more pressing matters to consider.”

 

Some of Renly’s lords bristled at that, but the king only laughed. “Well said, Ned. There will be time enough for graces when these wars are done. Tell me, you say your son wears a crown, are you not King in the North?”

 

“I have no desire for crowns or thrones.” Ned answered. He needed to speak to Renly privately, out in the open, he’d never be able to discuss Stannis’ claim and why Renly was trying to usurp his older brother.

 

“But it seems your son does, or maybe it’s his Targaryen bride.” Renly chuckled. “What has your son done with the Kingslayer?”

 

“Jaime Lannister is held prisoner at Riverrun.” Ned could hardly believe it when his sons had told him they’d managed to capture the Kingslayer. Ned had been half a mind to visit him before he left, but had more pressing concerns.

 

“Still alive?” Lord Mathis Rowan seemed dismayed.

 

Bemused, Renly said, “It would seem the direwolf is gentler than the lion.”

 

“Gentler than the Lannisters,” murmured Lady Oakheart with a bitter smile, “is drier than the sea.”

 

“I call it weak.” Lord Randyll Tarly had a short, bristly grey beard and a reputation for blunt speech. “No disrespect to you, Prince Stark, but it would have been more seemly had Lord Robb come to lay down his crown before the king himself, rather than hiding away.”

 

“My son is fighting a war.” Ned replied to the Reacher lord sternly. “Not playing at one.”

 

Renly grinned. “Go softly, Lord Randyll, I fear the Quiet Wolf still has more than enough bite for you.” He summoned a steward in the livery of Storm’s End. “Prince Stark and his companions shall have my own pavilion, and see that they have every comfort. Since Lord Caswell has been so kind as to give me use of his castle, I have no need of it. Ned, when you are rested, I would be honored if you would share our meat and mead at the feast Lord Caswell is giving us tonight. A farewell feast. I fear his lordship is eager to see the heels of my hungry horde.”

 

“Not true, Your Grace,” protested a wispy young man who must have been Caswell. “What is mine is yours.”

 

“Whenever someone said that to my brother Robert, he took them at their word,” Renly said. “Do you have daughters?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace. Two.”

 

“Then thank the gods that I am not Robert. My sweet queen is all the woman I desire.” Renly held out his hand to help Margaery to her feet. “We’ll talk again when you’ve had a chance to refresh yourself, Ned.” Just before Renly made his exit he turned back. “…I am truly glad that you are alive, Ned…”

 

Before Ned could answer Renly led his bride back toward the castle while his steward conducted Ned, Sansa and Aly to the king’s green silk pavilion. “If you have need of anything, you have only to ask.”

 

“Our dragons will be arriving in our wake.” Ned told the steward. “Please inform all the watchmen and have appropriate food brought to them when they land.” The steward left to carry out Ned’s wishes and he turned to see the abode Renly had gifted them.

 

The pavilion was larger than the common rooms of many an inn and furnished with every comfort: feather mattress and sleeping furs, a wood-and-copper tub large enough for two, braziers, to keep off the night’s chill, slung leather camp chairs, a writing table with quills and inkpot, bowls of peaches, plums, and pears, a flagon of wine with a set of matched silver cups, cedar chests packed full of Renly’s clothing, books, maps, game boards, a high harp, a tall bow and a quiver of arrows, a pair of red-tailed hunting hawks and a veritable armory of weapons. In the south they were considered finely made, but Dorrk wouldn’t have called them fit for scrap metal.

 

Small wonder this host moves so slowly.

 

“He can’t possibly have a use for all this tat.” Aly was astounded as she looked around, leaning on her weirwood cane.

 

Sansa added. “I half expect to find a gold-plated chamber pot lying around.”

 

There were partitioned sections to the pavilion where each of them were able to privately wash and clothe themselves in appropriate garb of a feast. When they were dressed, they made their way to the castle together, leaving Fang and Lady by the pavilion.

 

The great hall of Lord Caswell’s keep could hardly be called great at all, it was smaller than Winterfell’s main armoury. Even so, it seemed every knight in Renly’s army had managed to squeeze themselves onto the long wooden benches of the hall. Ned had been given a place on the dais between Aly and Lord Mathis Rowan. Sansa had apparently been requested by Queen Margaery herself to be placed next to her.

 

Brienne of Tarth had been seated at the far end of the high table. She did not gown herself as a lady, but chose a knight’s finery instead, a velvet doublet quartered rose-andazure, breeches and boots and a fine-tooled swordbelt, her new rainbow cloak flowing down her back. Out of armor, her body seemed ungainly, broad of hip and thick of limb, with hunched muscular shoulders but no bosom to speak of. And it was clear from her every action that Brienne knew it, and suffered for it. She spoke only in answer, and seldom lifted her gaze from her food. Ned felt a swell of pity in his heart for the girl.

 

Perhaps I should introduce her to the Amazons…

 

Of food there was plenty, so much so that Ned imagined they had to be burning through their food supplies at a ridiculous rate. Such excess in wartime was unconscionable to Ned. During the rebellion, they never held a feast. The closest they had gotten were the celebrations after victories and even then they had been soured by the scores of wounded, dead and dying. From the look on Aly’s face, Ned knew she felt the same as he as she tried to rebuff the advances of a Fossoway knight sitting next to her, hoping to woo a dragonrider.

 

Being unable to stomach foods in front of him as the realm bled, Ned ate sparingly, and watched Renly. The man who would be king sat with his young bride on his left hand and her brother on the right. Apart from the white linen bandage around his brow, Ser Loras seemed none the worse for the day’s misadventures.

 

From time to time, Renly would feed Margaery some choice morsel off the point of his dagger, or lean over to plant the lightest of kisses on her cheek, but it was Ser Loras who shared most of his jests and confidences. His Queen seemed all too happy to be ignored however, as she seemed much more interested in Sansa.

 

Renly’s young men drank too much and boasted too loudly, to Ned’s mind. Lord Willum’s sons Josua and Elyas disputed heatedly about who would be first over the walls of King’s Landing. Lord Varner dandled a serving girl on his lap, nuzzling at her neck while one hand went exploring down her bodice. Guyard the Green, who fancied himself a singer, diddled a harp and gave them a verse about tying lions’ tails in knots, some parts of which even rhymed. Ser Mark Mullendore brought a black-and-white monkey and fed him morsels from his own plate, while Ser Tanton of the red-apple Fossoways climbed on the table and swore to slay Sandor Clegane in single combat. The vow might have been taken more solemnly if Ser Tanton had not had one foot in a gravy boat when he made it.

 

The height of folly was reached when a plump fool came capering out in gold-painted tin with a cloth lion’s head, and chased a dwarf around the tables, whacking him over the head with a bladder. Finally Renly demanded to know why he was beating his brother. “Why, Your Grace, I’m the Kinslayer,” the fool answered.

 

“It’s Kingslayer, fool of a fool,” Renly said, and the hall rang with laughter.

 

Lord Rowan beside him did not join the merriment. “They are all so young,” he said.

 

It was true. The Knight of Flowers could not have reached his second name day when Robert slew Rhaegar on the Trident. Few of the others were very much older. They had been babes during the Sack of King’s Landing, and no more than boys when Balon Greyjoy raised the Iron Islands in rebellion. They are still unblooded, Ned thought as he watched Lord Bryce goad Ser Robar into juggling a brace of daggers.

 

It is all a game to them still, a tourney writ large, and all they see is the chance for glory and honor and spoils. They are boys drunk on song and story, and like all boys, they think themselves immortal.

 

“War will make them old.” Ned said, mournfully. “As it did us… I pity them.”

 

“Why?” Lord Rowan asked him. “Look at them. They’re young and strong, full of life and laughter. All they seek is a chance to prove themselves like you had. Why pity?”

 

Perhaps you forget I lost my father, brother and a good few friends for that chance to “prove myself”, Ned nearly told him, before settling on a more courteous answer. “Because it will not last…” he said, sadly. “Because they’re the knights of summer, and winter is coming…”

 

“You are wrong, Prince Stark.” Brienne regarded him with eyes as blue as her armor. “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it’s always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.”

 

“Take it from a man who’s drank from the cup of war more in one year than most will in thirty,” Ned stood from his chair, regarding Brienne sadly. “There is only one thing you can be sure of in this life: Winter always comes. Sooner than we would like.” He gave a slight bow and left the feasting hall for some air.

 

Ned was walking through and empty corridor when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He barely had time to turn before Alerie was mashing her lips against his, grabbing at his tunic with unbridled lust.

 

“I thought you dead…” She whispered between kisses as she backed him against a wall, then a door into what seemed to be an empty solar. There was a large oaken desk in the middle of the room with eight chairs around it. “I thought I was dreaming when I saw you on your wolf. Take me.” Alerie whimpered, her hands shaking as they unlaced her dress. “Please take me. I need you.”

 

“Then you shall have me.” Ned said, throwing a magical fireball into the solar’s hearth, bathing the room in a warm orange glow.

 

Alerie was nearly down to her small-clothes when he turned back to her, slipping her dress over her wide hips. Ned tried to admire the soft expanse of her place flesh, but she was on him like a ravenous beast, attacking the bindings of his tunic.

 

First the tunic went, then his shirt, breeches and smallclothes. Somewhere along the way Alerie had lost hers too. The two were locked in an impassioned embrace, pressing their naked bodies together. With an animalistic grunt, Ned turned Alerie around and pressed her curvy body flat against the wooden table, her large breasts spreading out to either side of her torso.

 

After hundreds of times together, she instinctively knew what to do. With a cat-like pur, Alerie spread her legs wide and arched her back. The twin immense globes of her arse cheeks were presented to Ned, quivering in anticipation. He gave her a few hard smacks to remind her body what it was in for, making her mewl like a kitten.

 

Not satisfied with waiting anymore, Ned took his throbbing member in hand, angled himself towards her womanhood before slamming every inch of his cock into her from behind. From the sound Alerie made, you’d have thought she had been kicked by a horse.

 

“AH! Ned! Fuck!" she moaned, hands bracing against the hard wooden table as it rocked beneath them, Ned ramming into her from behind. With another hard smack against her arse, Ned reached up and took a firm grasp of Alerie’s Valyrian silver hair.

 

“You wanted me to take you.” Ned chuckled, furiously thrusting into Alerie’s tight, molten depths. Every inch of her cunt massaged his cock, begging him to seed her womb again.

 

“More!” She whined as Ned pressed his much larger body against her back, her large breasts bouncing madly on her chest, rosy nipples achingly hard. “More! Please!”

 

“You always were a whore.” Ned growled into the back of Alerie’s neck, his hips smacking against hers like the thundering hooves of a runaway horse.

 

"YES!" She screamed, her cunt shivering around him as Ned’s rutting forced her to submit in pleasure. “Your whore! Yours!”

 

“Keep it down.” Ned pressed Alerie’s head down to the table, trying to muffle her cries. “Or do you want the whole castle to know their queen’s mother is more wanton than a back-alley whore?”

 

Alerie’s response was an incoherent moan as her pleasure overwhelmed her. Her moans and the loud slaps of Ned’s hips against her meaty arse echoed off the hard stone walls of the solar, bouncing back on them.

 

Ned thought it sounded an awful lot like a whorehouse. Alerie’s womanhood was clenching him so tightly Ned thought he might die. It would have been a happy death. His release came hard and fast, with his metal hand squeezing Alerie’s succulent breasts for all their worth, Ned slammed every inch of his cock deep into her shuddering cunt.

 

A great wave of his seed filled her in the following moments, then another… and another… The final one triggering another climax from Alerie, drawing shaky breaths as Ned held her upright, her eyes heavy and dreamy.

 

But Ned was still hard…

 

He roughly withdrew from Alerie, then flung the woman onto her back. The sight of her large breasts bouncing from the movement was pleasant indeed and one Ned had missed.

 

“Your stamina is a gift from the gods.” Alerie said lazily, wrapping her legs around Ned’s waist as he eased back into her loosened cunt. “No matter how hard you fuck me -and any other women with me- you are always ready for more.”

 

“When i’m with a woman as beautiful as you, can you blame me?” Ned smiled before leaning down to claim her lips with his, pressing deeper within her as her pillowy breasts cushioned his chest.

 

“AhhAHhh!” Alerie’s no-doubt intendedly witty response came out as a breathy moan as Ned ploughed her.

 

The golden light from the hearth danced over Alerie’s pale skin, casting writhing shadows on the wall of the solar. Ned could see Alerie‘s eyes had lost all focus some time ago. Her mind was gone, her body drowning in a tide of euphoria, sweeping her away to a blessed climax. Her legs were hooked tightly around his hips, keeping his as close as possible.

 

Ned saw Alerie’s eyes rolling back into her head as she shivered from the pleasure of his cock steadily pounding in and out of her, like a battering ram knocking on the door of her keep. And Ned was surely about to come into her castle.

 

“Whatever would your men say if they saw you now?” Ned growled into her face. “What would your husband?”

 

That did it.

 

A mind-numbing, toe-curling, world-ending climax shook the very foundations of Alerie’s being. The sights and sensations of his lover’s momentous end brought Ned to his own. He made sure every single drop of his seed was deposited deep inside her, then withdrew and flopped down beside her on the table.

 

Their fucking had been frantic and frenzied, the way lovemaking between old lovers who’d been apart often was. Alerie lay on her back, her silver hair plastered to her face with sweat, panting and shivering with the aftershocks of her pleasure. Ned lay on his back beside her, basking in their afterglow and enjoying the release of the tension that had coiled within him.

 

“I never took you for a vain man.” Ned turned to see Alerie looking up at him, running her hand over his beard.

 

“What?”

 

“This illusion.” Alerie stroked his face. “You don’t need it.”

 

“It’s not an illusion.” Ned said, then regaled her with the tale of his and Arthur’s discovery of Themyscira and the rejuvenating waters it had.

 

Alerie seemed quite surprised. “…Would they be willing to let others use their waters too?” She asked.

 

“I’m sure I would be able to manage it.” Ned smiled, rolling over Alerie and kissing along her jaw as she giggled. “Given the right motivation.”

 

“Then you shall have all the motivation you require, my dear Ned.” She laughed. “But not right now, we’ve already been gone from the feast too long.”

 

She was right, Ned knew. Begrudgingly, they cleaned themselves up and redressed before leaving the solar and making their way back to the main hall. On their way back they bumped into Sansa with Margaery on one arm and a Caswell daughter on the other. All three of them had mussed up hair and flushed cheeks. The tight shriek Margaery gave when she saw them told Ned all he needed to know about what they had been doing.

 

“Marg-sweetling…” Alerie said, her voice tight. “I-I was was just getting some air when I bumped into Prince Stark.” She might have been more convincing if her voice hadn’t been three octaves higher than usual. “Being the gentleman he is,” Alerie continued. “He offered to escort me… back…”

 

With every word Alerie uttered, Margaery and the Caswell daughter grew redder and redder. Ned thought they could do passing impressions of tomatoes when Alerie was done.

 

Ned only needed to look Sansa in the eye and nothing else needed to be said. The five of them parted without another word, Ned and Alerie returning to the feast, Sansa taking her women elsewhere.

 

“Ned,” Renly called called to him after he reentered the hall from one door after Alerie and arrived through another. “You’re a difficult man to find. I feel the need of some air. Will you walk with me?”

 

“We have much to discuss.” Ned said grimly.

 

Quick enough, Brienne was on her feet as well. “Your Grace, give me but a moment to don my mail. You should not be without protection.”

 

Renly smiled. “If I am not safe in the heart of Lord Caswell’s castle, with my own host around me, one sword will make no matter... not even your sword, Brienne. Sit and eat. If I have need of you, I’ll send for you.”

 

His words seemed to strike the girl harder than any blow she had taken that afternoon. “As you will, Your Grace.” Brienne sat, eyes downcast.

 

“This way.” Renly lead through a low door into a stair tower. As they started up, he said, “Perchance, is Ser Barristan Selmy with your son at Riverrun?”

 

Ned was stunned. “That’s the first question that comes to mind?” You abandon me in a pit of vipers and try to steal your brother’s inheritance and that is the first thing you say?!

 

“We have much to talk of.” Renly gave him an apologetic look. “Perhaps it’s best to ease into it with something small?” When Ned didn’t answer, he continued. “…We could always talk about how you look twenty years younger and have a metal arm instead?”

 

“As you like,” Ned answered. “…No, Ser Barristan is not following my son. Is he no longer with Joffrey? He was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

 

Renly shook his head. “The Lannisters told him he was too old and gave his cloak to the Hound. I’m told he left King’s Landing vowing to take up service with the true king. That cloak Brienne claimed today was the one I was keeping for Selmy, in hopes that he might offer me his sword. When he did not turn up at Highgarden, I thought perhaps he had gone to Riverrun instead. If not for your son, then his Targaryen bride.”

 

Dragonstone would have been the obvious choice. “When Arthur and I made our escape from the Black cells, Ser Barristan happened upon us.” Ned confessed. “He let us pass.”

 

“Then mayhaps he was on his way out before the Lannisters gave him the boot.” Renly said. “I hope he has not come to harm.” They climbed a few more steps, Ned saw Renly sneaking a glance at his new arm.

 

“Arthur and I escaped King’s Landing via ship.” Ned told him. “There was a storm when we were out at sea, only Arthur and I survived. We drifted to an island called Themyscira. They fed us, healed us, they gave me this arm.” Ned held it up, glinting in the torchlight.

 

“A fantastic tale.” Renly answered him. “And then they…” he pointed to Ned’s face.

 

“The waters of Themyscira give both strength and youth.”

 

“Then my first act after I am crowned will be to bring this magic to Westeros.” Renly laughed.

 

The Amazons will never allow that, Ned thought. Though he knew better than to voice it. “If I trusted you, I might even help you.” Ned stated, perhaps not the wisest of actions.

 

“I offered you a hundred swords and urged you to take Joffrey into your power.” Renly said through gritted teeth. “If you had listened, you would be regent today and your men would not have died.”

 

“Or maybe they would be alive if you hadn’t abandoned me.” Ned snapped.

 

“I had no choice but to flee.” Renly said. “Had I stayed, I knew Cersei would see to it that I did not long outlive Robert. You did not listen to me then, but I hope you do now. Here, I wish to show you something.” They had reached the top of the stairwell. Renly pushed open a wooden door, and they stepped out onto the roof.

 

Lord Caswell’s keep was scarcely tall enough to be called a tower, but the country was low and flat and Ned could see for leagues in all directions. Wherever he looked, he saw fires. They covered the earth like fallen stars, and like the stars there was no end to them.

 

“Count them if you like,” Renly said quietly. “You will still be counting when dawn breaks in the east. How many fires bum around Riverrun tonight, I wonder?”

 

“You have a point?”

 

“I have eighty thousand men here,” Renly said, “and this is only part of my strength. Mace Tyrell remains at Highgarden with another ten thousand, I have a strong garrison holding Storm’s End, and soon enough the Dornishmen will join me with all their power.”

 

Ned barked out a laugh. “You think me a fool?” Dorne would never declare for a king held up by the Reach.

 

“…No, but I do wonder why you come to me.”

 

“Your camp was on the way to Stannis, I had hope to bring the both of you together with a common cause.”

 

“So you mean to make Stannis king?”

 

“He is Robert’s heir.”

 

“Let us be blunt, Stark.” Renly laughed. “Stannis would make an appalling king. Nor is he like to become one. Men respect Stannis, even fear him, but precious few have ever loved him.”

 

“He is still your elder brother.”

 

Renly shrugged. “…You had an elder brother, you carry his inheritance better than he would have, i’d wager.”

 

Ned’s eyes turned icy blue as the temperature dropped to beyond freezing, a thin mist quickly forming from their breath. “Think very carefully about what you say next Renly…”

 

Renly paused for a few heartbeats. “Tell me… what right did Robert ever have to the Iron Throne?” He did not wait for an answer. “Oh, there was talk of the blood ties between Baratheon and Targaryen, of weddings a hundred years past, of second sons and elder daughters. No one but the maesters care about any of it. Robert won the throne with Foebreaker in hand.” He swept a hand across the campfires that burned from horizon to horizon. “My army and my dragons are my claim, as good as Robert’s ever was. If you support me as you supported Robert, you’ll not find me ungenerous.”

 

“You are not listening to me.”

 

“I mean to be king, Ned, and not of a broken kingdom. I cannot say it plainer than that. Three hundred years ago, a Stark king knelt to Aegon the Dragon for dragon eggs and a Targaryen bride. If you join me, this war is good as done. We—” Renly broke off suddenly, distracted. “What’s this now?”

 

The rattle of chains heralded the raising of the portcullis. Down in the yard below, a rider in a winged helm urged his well-lathered horse under the spikes. “Summon the king!” he called.

 

Renly vaulted up into a crenel. “I’m here, ser.”

 

“Your Grace.” The rider spurred his mount closer. “I came swift as I could. From Storm’s End. We are besieged, Your Grace, Ser Cortnay defies them, but. . .”

 

“But. . . that’s not possible. I would have been told if Lord Tywin left Harrenhal.”

 

“These are no Lannisters, my liege. It’s Lord Stannis at your gates. King Stannis, he calls himself now.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

The meeting place was a grassy sward dotted with pale grey mushrooms and the raw stumps of felled trees.

 

“You think they’ll take long?” Aly asked as they reined up amidst the stumps, alone between the armies. Ned had ridden out on Fang, Sansa on Lady and Aly with a horse Renly had leant her. The smell of salt was heavy on the wind gusting from the east.

 

Stannis Baratheon’s foragers had cut the trees down for his siege towers and catapults. Ned wondered how long the grove had stood. Just another pointless casualty in a battle between brothers.

 

Across rain-sodden fields and stony ridges, Ned could see the great castle of Storm’s End rearing up against the sky, its back to the unseen sea. Beneath that mass of pale grey stone, the encircling army of Lord Stannis Baratheon looked as small and insignificant as mice with banners. The only intimidating thing about it was Stannis’ large yellow dragon, Baelys. At over a century old it was near four times as large as Renly’s dragon, Stormbolt.

 

Perhaps that was the reason Renly didn’t want the dragons to be at the meeting.

 

“I see Stannis.” Sansa said, looking off at the camp beneath the castle where two riders were trotting towards them slowly. They did not carry the Baratheon banner. It was a bright yellow, not the rich gold of Renly’s standards, and the device it bore was red, though Ned could not make out its shape.

 

Renly would be last to arrive. He had told Ned as much when he set out. He did not propose to mount his horse until he saw his brother well on his way. The first to arrive must wait on the other, and Renly would do no waiting.

 

I expect as much from Alaric and Rickon, Ned thought.

 

As he neared, Ned saw that Stannis wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. His belt was studded with garnets and yellow topaz, and a great square-cut ruby was set in the hilt of the sword he wore on one hip, on his other lay Foebreaker. Robert’s hammer… Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown rough-spun. The device on his sun-yellow banner showed a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire.. Even more curious was his standard-bearer—a woman, garbed all in reds, face shadowed within the deep hood of her scarlet cloak. Ned was eerily reminded of Tetra when he saw her.

 

A red priestess, Ned thought, wondering. The sect was numerous and powerful in the Free Cities and the distant east, but there were few in the Seven Kingdoms. He had never known Stannis to be a religious man. If anything the man despised the Gods. Ned wondered what power she held that might make Stannis heed her.

 

“Prince Stark,” Stannis Baratheon said with chill courtesy as he reined up. He inclined his head, balder than Ned remembered. “I was surprised to hear you were not dead.”

 

“Not quite as surprised as my wives were, Your Grace,” Ned returned.

 

“I received your letter.” Stannis informed him. “I find it strange that you would declare me king on one day, let your son crown himself on the next, then join my brother the day after that.”

 

“I haven’t joined Renly.”

 

“Then you were merely out for a stroll?”

 

“I had hoped to talk to you both, to stop you from making a terrible mistake.”

 

Stannis clenched his jaw. “I am not the one who needs talking to. Renly is in the wrong.”

 

“If you and your brother were to put aside your quarrel—”

 

“I have no quarrel with Renly, should he prove dutiful. I am his elder, and his king. I want only what is mine by rights. Renly owes me loyalty and obedience. I mean to have it. From him, and from these other lords.”

 

“This could have all been avoided if you had told me what you and Jon Arryn had been doing from the start.”

 

“I should have been Robert’s Hand.”

 

“That was your brother’s will. I never wanted it.”

 

“Yet you took it. That which should have been mine.”

 

“Is that you, brother?” a cheerful voice called out behind them. Ned glanced over his shoulder as Renly’s palfrey picked her way through the stumps. The younger Baratheon was splendid in his green velvet doublet and satin cloak trimmed in vair. The crown of golden roses girded his temples, jade stag’s head rising over his forehead, long black hair spilling out beneath. Jagged chunks of black diamond studded his swordbelt, and a chain of gold and emeralds looped around his neck.

 

Renly had chosen a woman to carry his banner as well, though Brienne hid face and form behind plate armor that gave no hint of her sex. Atop her twelve-foot lance, the crowned stag pranced black-on-gold as the wind off the sea rippled the cloth.

 

His brother’s greeting was curt. “Lord Renly.”

 

“King Renly. I hardly recognised you, Stannis.”

 

Stannis frowned. “Who else should it be?”

 

Renly gave an easy shrug. “When I saw that standard, I could not be certain. Whose banner do you bear?”

 

“Mine own.”

 

The red-clad priestess spoke up. “The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light.”

 

Renly seemed amused by that. “All for the good. If we both use the same banner, the battle will be terribly confused.”

 

Ned said, “Let us hope there will be no battle. We three share a common foe who would destroy us all given the chance.”

 

Stannis studied him, unsmiling. “The Iron Throne is mine by rights. All those who deny that are my foes.”

 

“The whole of the realm denies it, brother,” said Renly. “Old men deny it with their death rattle, and unborn children deny it in their mothers’ wombs. They deny it in Dorne and they deny it on the Wall. No one wants you for their king. Sorry.”

 

Stannis clenched his jaw, his face taut. “I swore I would never treat with you while you wore your traitor’s crown. Would that I had kept to that vow.”

 

“This is folly,” Ned said sternly. “Lord Tywin sits at Harrenhal with twenty thousand swords and the Gods only know how many dragons. The remnants of the Kingslayer’s army have regrouped at the Golden Tooth, another Lannister host gathers beneath the shadow of Casterly Rock, and Cersei and her son hold King’s Landing and your precious Iron Throne. You both name yourselves king, yet the kingdoms bleed, and no one lifts a sword to defend it but my son. You shame Robert’s memory.”

 

Both Renly and Stannis shifted uncomfortably in their saddles at the mention of Robert. “When Robert was in his cups, he would often say how you were his favourite brother.” Stannis clenched his teeth.

 

“And Robert was often in his cups.” Renly added. “Now Robert is gone and we are still here.”

 

There was the truth of it. Ned realised he had probably been the worst person to try and bring the two brothers together. The only thing that united Stannis and Renly was their jealousy of him. That Robert had preferred him to them.

 

“If you have proposals to make, make them,” Stannis said brusquely, “or I will be gone.”

 

“Very well,” said Renly. “I propose that you dismount, bend your knee, and swear me your allegiance.”

 

Stannis choked back rage. “That you shall never have.”

 

“You served Robert, why not me?”

 

“Robert was my elder brother. You are the younger.”

 

“Younger, bolder, and far more comely...”

 

“…and a thief and a usurper besides.”

 

Renly shrugged. “The Targaryens called Robert usurper. He seemed to be able to bear the shame. So shall I.”

 

“Act your age!” Ned snapped. “Anyone would think you were children from your manner now. Yet you both claim to be kings? If you were sons of mine, I would bang your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber until you remembered that you were brothers.”

 

Stannis frowned at him. “You presume too much, Prince Stark. I am the rightful king, something you yourself declared, and your son no less a traitor than my brother here. His day will come as well.”

 

“You are threatening my son.” Ned stated, his voice soft as thunder. “My bannermen claimed him king when the realm thought I was dead. Had I been there, It wouldn’t have happened.”

 

“But it did.” Stannis interrupted. “And that treason will require an answer no matter what.”

 

“You may threaten the closest thing you have to an ally as much as you want, but it changes nothing.” Renly said. “You may well have the better claim, Stannis, but I still have the larger army.” Renly’s hand slid inside his cloak. Stannis saw, and reached at once for the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw steel his brother produced... a peach. “Would you like one, brother?” Renly asked, smiling. “From Highgarden. You’ve never tasted anything so sweet, I promise you.” He took a bite. Juice ran from the corner of his mouth.

 

Does he ever stop playing games?

 

“I did not come here to eat fruit.” Stannis was fuming.

 

“My lords!” Ned said. “We ought to be hammering out the terms of an alliance, not trading taunts.”

 

“A man should never refuse to taste a peach,” Renly said as he tossed the stone away. “He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. Winter is coming.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“I did not come here to be threatened, either.”

 

“Nor were you,” Renly snapped back. “When I make threats, you’ll know it. If truth be told, I’ve never liked you, Stannis, but you are my own blood, and I have no wish to slay you. So if it is Storm’s End you want, take it... as a brother’s gift. As Robert once gave it to me, I give it to you.”

 

“It is not yours to give. It is mine by rights.” His hand rested on Foebreaker. “Like this hammer, passed down from lord to heir for thousands of years. It is the very symbol of Baratheon legitimacy. And it obeys me.”

 

Sighing, Renly half turned in the saddle. “What am I to do with this brother of mine, Brienne? He refuses my peach, he refuses my castle, he even shunned my wedding…”

 

“We both know your wedding was a mummer’s farce. A year ago you were scheming to make the girl one of Robert’s whores.”

 

“A year ago I was scheming to make the girl Robert’s queen,” Renly said, “but what does it matter? The minotaur got Robert and I got Margaery. You’ll be pleased to know she came to me a maid.” Sansa had an almost imperceptible smirk at that.

 

“In your bed she’s like to die that way.”

 

“Oh, I expect I’ll get a son on her within the year. Pray, how many sons do you have, Stannis? Oh, yes—none.” Renly smiled innocently. “As to your daughter, I understand. If my wife looked like yours, I’d send my fool to service her as well.”

 

“Enough!” Stannis roared. “I will not be mocked to my face, do you hear me? I will not!” He yanked his longsword from its scabbard. The steel gleamed strangely bright in the sunlight, now red, now yellow, now blazing white. The air around it seemed to shimmer, as if from heat.

 

Fang’s hackles raised and his head dropped low, but Brienne moved between the brothers, her own blade in hand. “Put up your steel!” she shouted at Stannis.

 

Cersei is laughing herself breathless, Ned thought wearily.

 

Stannis pointed his shining sword at his brother. “I am not without mercy,” thundered he who was notoriously without mercy. “Nor do I wish to sully Lightbringer with a brother’s blood. For the sake of the mother who bore us both, I will give you this night to rethink your folly, Renly. Strike your banners and come to me before dawn, and I will grant you Storm’s End and your old seat on the council and even name you my heir until a son is born to me. Otherwise, I shall destroy you.”

 

Renly laughed. “Stannis, that’s a very pretty sword, I’ll grant you, but I think the glow off it has ruined your eyes. Look across the fields, brother. Can you see all those banners?”

 

“Do you think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?”

 

“Tyrell dragons and Tyrell swords will make me king. Rowan and Tarly and Caron will make me king, with axe and mace and warhammer. Tarth arrows and Penrose lances, Fossoway, Cuy, Mullendore, Estermont, Selmy, Hightower, Oakheart, Crane, Caswell, Blackbar, Morrigen, Beesbury, Shermer, Dunn, Footly... even House Florent, your own wife’s brothers and uncles, they will make me king. All the chivalry of the south rides with me, and that is the least part of my power. My foot is coming behind, a hundred thousand swords and spears and pikes. And you will destroy me? With what, pray? You have dragons? I have more. And your paltry rabble I see there huddled under the castle walls? I’ll call them five thousand and be generous, codfish lords and onion knights and sellswords. Half of them are like to come over to me before the battle starts. You have fewer than four hundred horse, my scouts tell me—freeriders in boiled leather who will not stand an instant against armored lances. I do not care how seasoned a warrior you think you are, Stannis, that host of yours won’t survive the first charge of my vanguard.”

 

“We shall see, brother.” Some of the light seemed to go out of the world when Stannis slid his sword back into its scabbard. “Come the dawn, we shall see.”

 

“I hope your new god’s a merciful one, brother.”

 

Stannis snorted and galloped away, disdainful. The red priestess lingered a moment behind. “Look to your own sins, Lord Renly,” she said as she wheeled her horse around. She locked eyes with Ned for a moment before she turned. It felt like she was staring into his soul. There was recognition in her eyes before she galloped away.

 

Ned and Renly returned together to the camp where his thousands waited their return. “That was amusing, if not terribly profitable,” he commented. “I wonder where I can get a sword like that? Well, doubtless Loras will make me a gift of it after the battle. It grieves me that it must come to this.”

 

“You have a cheerful way of grieving,” said Ned, whose distress was not feigned.

 

“Do I?” Renly shrugged. “So be it. Stannis was never the most cherished of brothers, I confess.”

 

“Your brother is the lawful heir.”

 

“While he lives,” Renly admitted. “Though it’s a fool’s law, wouldn’t you agree? Why the oldest son, and not the best-fitted? The crown will suit me, as it never suited Robert and would not suit Stannis. I have it in me to be a great king, strong yet generous, clever, just, diligent, loyal to my friends and terrible to my enemies, yet capable of forgiveness, patient—”

 

“—humble?” Ned rolled his eyes.

 

Renly laughed. “You must allow a king some flaws.”

 

Ned felt very tired. It had all been for nothing. The Baratheon brothers would drown each other in blood while his family faced the Lannisters alone, and nothing he could say or do would stop it. I am sorry Robert, your brothers wouldn’t listen to me.

 

Their camp was well sited atop a low stony ridge that ran from north to south. It was far more orderly than the sprawling encampment on the Mander, though only a quarter as large. When he’d learned of his brother’s assault on Storm’s End, Renly had split his forces. His great mass of foot he had left behind at Bitterbridge with his young queen, his wagons, carts, draft animals, and all his cumbersome siege machinery, while Renly himself led his knights and freeriders in a swift dash east atop his dragon.

 

Renly in his foolishness and haste to face his brother had outdistanced his supply lines, left food and forage days behind with all his wagons and mules and oxen. He had to come to battle soon, or starve.

 

Ned sent Aly and Sansa away while he accompanied Renly back to the royal pavilion at the heart of the encampment. Inside the walls of green silk, his captains and lords bannermen were waiting to hear word of the parley. “My brother has not changed,” their young king told them as Brienne unfastened his cloak and lifted the gold-and-jade crown from his brow. “Castles and courtesies will not appease him, he must have blood. Well, I am of a mind to grant his wish.”

 

“Your Grace, I see no need for battle here,” Lord Mathis Rowan put in. “The castle is strongly garrisoned and well provisioned, Ser Cortnay Penrose is a seasoned commander, and the trebuchet has not been built that could breach the walls of Storm’s End.”

 

“He has a dragon.” A Fossoway interjected. “And they’ve broken many a castle in the past.”

 

“You think Storm’s End has no defence against dragons?” Ned cut in. “My ancestor Brandon the Builder helped construct that castle to defy the power of the Gods. One dragon will not breach those walls.”

 

“Prince Stark is right.” Rowan continued. “Let Lord Stannis have his siege. He will find no joy in it, and whilst he sits cold and hungry and profitless, we will take King’s Landing.”

 

“And have men say I feared to face Stannis?”

 

“Only fools will say that,” Lord Mathis argued.

 

Renly looked to the others. “What say you all?”

 

“I say that Stannis is a danger to you,” Lord Randyll Tarly declared. “Leave him unblooded and he will only grow stronger, while your own power is diminished by battle. The Lannisters will not be beaten in a day. By the time you are done with them, Lord Stannis may be as strong as you... or stronger.”

 

Others chorused their agreement. The king looked pleased. “We shall fight, then.”

 

“If you are set on battle, my purpose here is done.” Ned said.

 

“You must stay.” Renly seated himself on a camp chair.

 

Ned stiffened. “I had hoped to help you make a peace, Renly. I will not help you make a war.”

 

Renly gave a shrug. “I daresay we’ll prevail without your dragons. I do not mean for you to take part in the battle, only to watch it.”

 

“I’ve seen more battles than you’ve seen years, boy-”

 

“Then you shall have an experienced eye,” Renly said, “You shall see what befalls rebels with your own eyes, so your son can hear it from your own lips.” He turned away to make his dispositions. “Lord Mathis, you shall lead the center of my main battle. Bryce, you’ll have the left. The right is mine. Lord Estermont, you shall command the reserve.”

 

“I shall not fail you, Your Grace,” Lord Estermont replied.

 

Lord Mathis Rowan spoke up. “Who shall have the van?”

 

“Your Grace,” said Ser Jon Lossoway, “I beg the honor.”

 

“Beg all you like,” said Ser Guyard the Green, “by rights it should be one of the seven who strikes the first blow.”

 

“It takes more than a pretty cloak to charge a shield wall,” Randyll Tarly announced. “I was leading Mace Tyrell’s van when you were still sucking on your mother’s teat, Guyard.”

 

A clamor filled the pavilion, as other men loudly set forth their claims. The knights of summer, Ned thought. Renly raised a hand. “Enough, my lords. If I had a dozen vans, all of you should have one, but the greatest glory by rights belongs to the greatest knight and dragonrider. Ser Loras shall strike the first blow.”

 

“With a glad heart, Your Grace.” The Knight of Flowers knelt before the king. “Grant me your blessing, and a knight to ride beside me with your banner. Let the stag and rose go to battle side by side.”

 

Renly glanced about him. “Brienne.”

 

“Your Grace?” She was still armored in her blue steel, though she had taken off her helm. The crowded tent was hot, and sweat plastered limp yellow hair to her broad, homely face. “My place is at your side. I am your sworn shield…”

 

“One of seven,” the king reminded her. “Never fear, four of your fellows will be with me in the fight.”

 

Brienne dropped to her knees. “If I must part from Your Grace, grant me the honor of arming you for battle.”

 

“Granted,” Renly said. “Now leave me, all of you. Even kings must rest before a battle.”

 

Dusk was falling when Ned left the pavilion. Ser Robar Royce fell in beside him. He knew him slightly—one of Bronze Yohn’s sons, comely in a rough-hewn way, a tourney warrior of some renown. Renly had gifted him with a rainbow cloak and a suit of blood-red armor, and named him one of his seven. “You are a long way from the Vale, ser,” Ned told him.

 

“And you far from Winterfell, Prince Stark.”

 

“I know what brought me here, but why have you come? This is not your battle, no more than it is mine.”

 

“I made it my battle when I made Renly my king.”

 

“Your father is bannermen to House Arryn.”

 

“My lord father owes Lady Lysa fealty, as does his heir. A second son must find glory where he can.” Ser Robar shrugged. “A man grows weary of tourneys.” He paused for a moment. “About my father though… He was grieved to hear of your death.”

 

Ned had known Yohn since he was a boy, he was a close friend. “I sent letters to the Vale upon my return.”

 

“Doubtless, news of your return made him very happy.”

 

“Happy enough to move from his mountain keep I hope.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

It was the Hour of the Wolf when Ned went back to Renly, the candles within his pavilion made the shimmering silken walls seem to glow. Two of the Rainbow Guard stood sentry at the door to the royal pavilion. The green light shone strangely against the purple plums of Ser Parmen’s surcoat, and gave a sickly hue to the sunflowers that covered every inch of Ser Emmon’s enameled yellow plate. Long silken plumes flew from their helms, and rainbow cloaks draped their shoulders.

 

Within, Ned found Brienne armoring the king for battle while the Lords Tarly and Rowan spoke of dispositions and tactics. It was pleasantly warm inside, the heat shimmering off the coals in a dozen small iron braziers.

 

“I must speak with you, Renly,” Ned said, trying to find some way to avoid this foolishness.

 

“In a moment, Ned,” Renly replied. Brienne fit backplate to breastplate over his gambeson. The king’s armor was a deep green, the green of leaves in a summer wood, so dark it drank the candlelight. Gold highlights gleamed from inlay and fastenings like distant fires in that wood, winking every time he moved. “Pray continue, Lord Mathis.”

 

“Your Grace,” Mathis Rowan said with a sideways glance at Ned. “As I was saying, our plans are well drawn up. Why wait for daybreak? Sound the advance.”

 

“And have it said that I won by treachery, with an unchivalrous attack? Dawn was the chosen hour.”

 

“Chosen by Stannis,” Randyll Tarly pointed out. “He’d have us charge into the teeth of the rising sun. We’ll be half-blind.”

 

“Only until first shock,” Renly said confidently. “Ser Loras will break them on the back of his dragon, and after that it will be chaos.” Renly had seemingly forgotten that Baelys was thrice the size of Blackthorn, and Stannis was an experienced dragonrider, while Loras was greener than summer grass. “When my brother falls, see that no insult is done to his corpse. He is my own blood, I will not have his head paraded about on a spear. Though I would like that pretty sword of his.” He chuckled.

 

“And if he yields?” Lord Tarly asked.

 

“Yields?” Lord Rowan laughed. “When Mace Tyrell laid siege to Storm’s End, Stannis ate rats rather than open his gates.”

 

“I well remember.” Renly lifted his chin to allow Brienne to fasten his gorget in place. “Near the end, Ser Gawen Wylde and three of his knights tried to steal out a postern gate to surrender. Stannis caught them and ordered them flung from the walls with catapults. I can still see Gawen’s face as they strapped him down. He had been our master-at-arms…”

 

Lord Rowan appeared puzzled. “No men were hurled from the walls. I would surely remember that.”

 

“Maester Cressen told Stannis that we might be forced to eat our dead, and there was no gain in flinging away good meat...” Renly stared off into space for a few moments, then pushed back his hair. Brienne bound it with a velvet tie and pulled a padded cap down over his ears, to cushion the weight of his helm. “Thanks to the Onion Knight we were never reduced to dining on corpses, but it was a close thing. Too close for Ser Gawen, who died in his cell.”

 

“Your Grace.” Ned had waited patiently, but time grew short. “I will not wait all night.”

 

Renly nodded. “See to your battles, my lords... oh, and if Barristan Selmy is at my brother’s side, I want him spared.”

 

“There’s been no word of Ser Barristan since Joffrey cast him out,” Lord Rowan objected.

 

“I know that old man. He needs a king to guard, or who is he? Yet he never came to me, and Ned says he is not with Robb Stark at Riverrun. Where else but with Stannis?”

 

“As you say, Your Grace. No harm will come to him.” The lords bowed deeply and departed.

 

“Say your say, Ned,” Renly said. Brienne swept his cloak over his broad shoulders. It was cloth-of-gold, heavy, with the crowned stag of Baratheon picked out in flakes of jet.

 

“You do not need to do this.”

 

“Even the most foolish man knows to put armour on before a battle.” Renly laughed.

 

“You battle your brother when you should be fighting the Lannisters.” Ned countered. “What is that if not foolish?”

 

Renly fixed his gaze at Ned through the mirror that stood in front of him. “I enjoy you Ned, but must I remind you, you’re talking to a king?”

 

“A king? Maybe.” Ned said, sourly. “A preening child? Definitely.”

 

“You are sorely mistaken if you think insulting me is the path to agreement.”

 

“Stannis is your brother!” Ned thundered. “His blood flows in your veins, just as yours does in his. You are family. Do you think this is what Robert would have wanted you to do?”

 

Renly’s gaze hardened then. “Robert wouldn’t have cared and it matters not. Robert is dead. And you miss him more than Stannis and I combined I feel.” Brienne brought the king’s gauntlets and greathelm, crowned with golden antlers that would add a foot and a half to his height. “The time for talk is done. Stannis has chosen his fate.” Renly pulled a lobstered green-and-gold gauntlet over his left hand, while Brienne knelt to buckle on his belt, heavy with the weight of longsword and dagger.

 

“He is your brother…” Ned began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. All Ned’s hairs stood on end. He thought he glimpsed movement, but when he turned his head, it was only the king’s shadow shifting against the silken walls. He heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was queer, wrong, and then Ned saw Renly’s sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadowsword…

 

“Cold,” said Renly in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to make a small thick gasp before the blood came gushing out of his throat.

 

“Your Gr— no!” cried Brienne the Blue when she saw that evil flow, sounding as scared as any little girl. The king stumbled into her arms, a sheet of blood creeping down the front of his armor, a dark red tide that drowned his green and gold. More candles guttered out. Renly tried to speak, but he was choking on his own blood. His legs collapsed, and only Brienne’s strength held him up. She threw back her head and screamed, wordless in her anguish.

 

The shadow. Magic. The Red Priestess, Ned knew in his heart. She must have cast a spell. It seemed Renly hadn’t been using the magical defences that the Starks practiced.

 

Only a few instants passed before Robar Royce and Emmon Cuy came bursting in, though it felt like half the night. A pair of men-at-arms crowded in behind with torches. When they saw Renly in Brienne’s arms, and her drenched with the king’s blood, Ser Robar gave a cry of horror.

 

“Wicked woman!” screamed Ser Emmon, he of the sun-flowered steel. “Away from him, you vile creature!”

 

“Gods be good, Brienne, why?” asked Ser Robar.

 

Brienne looked up from her king’s body. The rainbow cloak that hung from her shoulders had turned red where the king’s blood had soaked into the cloth. “I… I…”

 

“You’ll die for this.” Ser Emmon snatched up a long-handled battleaxe from the weapons piled near the door. “You’ll pay for the king’s life with your own!”

 

“NO!” Ned screamed, finding his voice, but it was too late, the blood madness was on them, and they rushed forward with shouts that drowned his words.

 

Brienne moved fast snatching Renly’s sword from its scabbard and raised it to catch Emmon’s axe on the downswing. A spark flashed blue-white as steel met steel with a rending crash, and Brienne sprang to her feet, the body of the dead king thrust rudely aside. Ser Emmon stumbled over it as he tried to close, and Brienne’s blade sheared through the wooden haft to send his axehead spinning. Another man thrust a flaming torch at her back, but the rainbow cloak was too sodden with blood to burn. Brienne spun and cut, and torch and hand went flying. Flames crept across the carpet. The maimed man began to scream. Ser Emmon dropped the axe and fumbled for his sword. The second man-at-arms lunged, Brienne parried, and their swords danced and clanged against each other. When Emmon Cuy came wading back in, Brienne was forced to retreat, yet somehow she held them both at bay. On the ground, Renly’s head rolled sickeningly to one side, and a second mouth yawned wide, the blood coming from him now in slow pulses.

 

Ser Robar had hung back, uncertain, but now he was reaching for his hilt. “Robar, listen.” Ned seized his arm. “You do her wrong, it was not her. Hear me, it was Stannis. I swear it, on my honour as a Stark, it was Stannis who killed him.”

 

“Stannis? How?”

 

“Sorcery, dark magic, there was a shadow, a shadow with a sword, I swear it, I saw. Are you blind, the girl loved him!” Ned glanced back, saw the second guardsman fall, his blade dropping from limp fingers. Outside there was shouting. More angry men would be bursting in on them any instant, Ned knew. “She is innocent, Robar. You have my word. Your father never knew me to be a liar. Give me time to get her away.”

 

That resolved him. “I will hold them,” Ser Robar said. “Get her away.” He turned and went out. The fire had reached the wall and was creeping up the side of the tent. Ser Emmon was pressing Brienne hard, him in his enameled yellow steel and her in wool. He had forgotten Ned, until Ned caught his sword in his metal hand and punched the knight so hard he dented his helm. Ser Emmon flopped in an ungainly heap to the floor. “Brienne, with me,” Ned commanded. The girl was not slow to see the chance. A slash, and the green silk parted. They stepped out into darkness and the chill of dawn. Loud voices came from the other side of the pavilion. “This way,” Ned urged, “and slowly. We must not run, or they will ask why. Walk easy, as if nothing were amiss.”

 

Brienne thrust her sword blade through her belt and fell in beside Ned. The night air smelled of rain. Behind them, the king’s pavilion was well ablaze, flames rising high against the dark. No one made any move to stop them. Men rushed past them, shouting of fire and murder and sorcery. Others stood in small groups and spoke in low voices. A few were praying, and one young squire was on his knees, sobbing openly.

 

Renly’s battle lines were already coming apart as the rumors spread from mouth to mouth. The nightfires had burned low, and as the east began to lighten the immense mass of Storm’s End emerged like a dream of stone while wisps of pale mist raced across the field, flying from the sun on wings of wind.

 

“I never held him but as he died,” Brienne said quietly as they walked through the spreading chaos. Her voice sounded as if she might break at any instant. “He was laughing one moment, and suddenly the blood was everywhere... I do not understand. Did you see, did you…?”

 

“I saw a shadow. I thought it was Renly’s shadow at the first, but it was his brother’s.”

 

“Lord Stannis?”

 

“I felt magic in the air.” One of the few times Ned wished he’d brought Tetra with him. She would have dispelled the shadow warrior in an instant.

 

It made sense enough for Brienne. “I will kill him,” the tall homely girl declared. “With my lord’s own sword, I will kill him. I swear it. I swear it. I swear it.”

 

Sansa and Aly were waiting by the dragons, clearly having been roused by the ruckus. “Father, the camp has gone mad,” Sansa said saw them. “Lord Renly, is he—” She stopped suddenly, staring at Brienne and the blood that drenched her.

 

“Dead, but not by our hands.”

 

“The battle—” Aly began.

 

“There will be no battle.” Ned went to Snowsong and began to climb into her saddle. “Brienne, you’ve probably dreamed of riding a dragon, I’d recommend mine or Aly’s. You cannot stay here.”

 

“I have a horse, my armor—”

 

“Leave them. We must be well away before they think to look for us. We were both with your king when he was killed. That will not be forgotten.” Wordless, Brienne turned and did as she was bid, climbing up Snowsong’s saddle to seat behind Ned. “Wrap one of the harnesses around yourself,” Ned told her as Sansa and Aly both went to their dragons.

 

With a mighty roar Snowsong leapt into the air followed by her daughters. Together they flew, fleeing the rising sun and the break of dawn.

Notes:

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Chapter 28: Chapter 23

 

Jon was in awe. 

 

It’s a wonder father even remembered us with women like this surrounding him.

 

The Amazons of Themyscira had finally arrived at Riverrun, Jon and his family were there to receive them. Each of the Amazons was more beautiful than the last, all tall and powerfully built with toned muscles on display. Light from the rising sun shone brightly off the polished metal of their arms and armour, giving them a flaming red hue. 

 

They seemed to be goddesses made flesh. 

 

Jon could practically feel Sansa holding herself back from surging forth to claim as many of them as she could. He could hardly blame her. At the head of the column rode a gorgeous woman with hair like spun gold that hung in a long braid over her shoulder. She must be Hippolyta, the Queen of the Amazons.  Beside her rode another woman, with hair black as the night and piercing grey eyes. Diana, her daughter. His father had told them all of Hippolyta and Diana before he had left. 

 

Beyond them came more beautiful women than Jon could ever count. “If their strength matches their beauty, we’ll win the war in a sennight.” Alysanne chuckled next to him. 

 

Jon couldn’t help but agree with his sister. Eventually the two leaders of the Amazon column dismounted their horses and walked over to Jon’s three mothers. 

 

“You must be Ned’s other wives.” Hippolyta said in a voice so lovely Jon’s eyes nearly watered. Hippolyta embraced them all together warmly, like they were her long lost sisters. “He told me you were beautiful, I now see that such words are unsatisfactory to describe your visages. You are not merely ‘beautiful’, but divine.” She pulled each of them in for a kiss. “I very much look forward to sharing your bed.” 

 

“Welcome to Riverrun, Queen Hippolyta.” Robb coughed uncomfortably. “Father has told us much of the ferocity of the Amazons.” 

 

“All true, and much more.” Hippolyta smiled at him. “We received word that Ned has gone south to treat with the other kings of this land.” 

 

“Yes.” Jon’s birth mother said. “Let us talk privately of our husband and alliance. I’m sure your warriors are tired from a long journey.” 

 

“We’re afraid that the castle is near full to bursting.” Elia chimed in. “There will be room for you and your daughters, but your warriors will have to put up tents for themselves.” 

 

“Then it shall be done.” Hippolyta stated before turning to another blonde Amazon. “Antiope, I leave our forces under your command. Set up the camp and make sure our warriors and mounts are fed and watered.” 

 

“Yes, sister.” 

 

“Shall we?” Hippolyta asked as the groups dispersed in the courtyard. 

 

Given that Robb would be meeting with Hippolyta, Jon saw no reason to crowd the room further so with Ghost and Toothless at his side he set off for Riverrun’s dungeons. The Valyrian dragonrider Jon had captured had yet to speak a word. He had already visited her multiple times, bringing food and water. Still nothing. 

 

“Off to see your Valyrian pet again?” Jon heard Tetra’s voice as she walked up behind him, Moon-eyes, her direwolf fell in beside Ghost and Toothless. Jon’s Grandungur had grown even larger since they had come to the south. The great horned black lion now nearly matched Moon-eyes in height.

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call her a pet.” 

 

“You’ve not let me interrogate her yet.” They turned a corner and walked down winding steps, their large familiars following in single file.

 

“Not let you force your way into her mind, you mean.” 

 

“Whatever you wish to call it.” Tetra said, dismissively. “We need what she knows. Sooner than late.” 

 

“I feel befriending her would be the surer way to that. And then have her as an ally.” 

 

Tetra laughed at that. “Yes ‘Befriend’… You Starks are all the same.” 

 

“What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause and use their own power against them?” They heard Alfred’s voice as they came down to the cell where they kept the dragonrider. “I seem to recall you telling me that once…” He said to Tetra. 

 

Uncle Benjen’s oldest son had ridden his dragon to Riverrun to be healed after a skirmish with a couple of Lannister dragons. He looked different to when Jon saw him last. More gaunt and his hair can been cut very short. Apparently it had caught fire in his last battle and he did not wish it to happen again. 

 

“And so, my former favourite student stabs me in the back.” Tetra looked down at Alfred as he sat by a wall with his Uru blade on his lap and Uhtred lying next to him. 

 

“You wound me, Rectoress.” Alfred smiled as he rose from his seat. 

 

“She been quiet?” Jon asked him. 

 

“As a mouse.” As Alfred was one of Robb and Jon’s most trusted warriors, he had been charged with keeping an eye on the Valyrian girl along with some members of the Ice Guard. “But I do agree with Tetra.” 

 

“As you should.” 

 

“We’ve had her long enough and she’s not said anything of value.” 

 

“Or anything at all…” 

 

“I’ve said no.” Jon said, trying not to sound petulant. “My word on the matter is final.” He resisted adding ‘Mother said so.’ at the end of his words. 

 

Tetra stared at him blankly. “Forgive me, I wasn’t listening to you just then. I was remembering the time you soiled yourself when I held you as a babe.” The beginnings of a snicker pulled on the sides of Alfred’s mouth as he looked away. 

 

Jon rolled his eyes. Few could infuriate as much as Tetra Gilcrest. Will you ever let that go?  

 

“No. That was a very expensive dress you ruined.” 

 

“Stop reading my thoughts!” 

 

“I don’t need to read your thoughts when wear them plainly on your face.” 

 

With a grunt, Jon stepped past them towards the cell and the guards that stood outside it. Two more sat at a table playing dice with some food and water. All straightened up when they saw Jon. 

 

The Kingslayer and his uncle Tygett Lannister were the only prisoners other than her that warranted having Ice Guard stand at their door. Once he had begun to heal from his injuries, the Lannister had been moved to one of the cells beside his uncle Tygett further along the hallway. Jon took up a cup from the guard’s table and a small wooden bowl that had some bread and cheese. 

 

“We’ll see if she’s in a mood for words today.” Jon gestured to the cell door for the guard to open it. The door was large and heavy, strong oak five inches thick and reinforced with iron. The guard heaved it open and Jon walked into the cell, leaving Ghost and Toothless to stand outside. 

 

For a dungeon it was relatively clean, with fresh straw splayed about, a large bucket and a bedroll. There was a small window high in the wall to the left of him, with iron bars across it, letting in fresh air and a dull grey light that fell in soft beams to the opposite wall. 

 

She sat opposite the door, hunched in the shade. They had given her new clothes after confiscating her golden armour. Now she wore a plain shirt and some woollen breeches. Her silver hair fell in a pale curtain over her face. Jon had been told she’d tried to escape on three separate occasions. As the cell door swung shut behind him with a heavy groan, he didn’t expect she’d try again. 

 

“Funny we should keep happening upon each other in this place.” Jon japed, placing the cup and bowl in the centre of the room. He took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, giving her space. The Valyrian woman lifted her head slightly and fixed Jon with her piercing violet eyes. 

 

“It’s yours.” Jon nodded to the food. “I’ve never been a prisoner before, but I imagine it’s hungry work.” 

 

Another stern look. Like a cat, she slowly inched across the floor, reach out and dragged the bowl back towards her shadowed corner. “You’re welcome.” Jon said as she took small bites from the cheese. 

 

Her eyes drifted down from Jon’s face to his sword as it hung from his belt. Her thoughts were clear. She was weighing the possibilities of taking his sword, using it to take him prisoner and break out. Jon’s hand instinctively went to the hilt, making sure it was still there. Sure enough, he felt the comforting warmth of the enchanted Valyrian steel sword. 

 

“That wouldn’t be a very good idea…” Jon said as he slowly drew the blade from it’s weirwood sheath. She tried to hide it, but the woman’s shoulders tensed and her empty hand clenched into a fist. “This sword is called Passion.” Jon said as he slowly waved the blade in the air in front of him, the artistic High Valyrian script glowing orangey-red in the dark, glinting off the silver dragon wings that formed the guard. 

 

“It’s Valyrian, like you… I don’t even know how long my family’s been in possession of this sword.” Jon let go of the sword as it began to float in front of him, turning slowly in the air. “It’s enchanted to obey my commands.” With a sudden burst of speed the blade found it home in the weirwood sheath again. “And only my commands.” 

 

His words were met with steely silence as the woman gritted her teeth and continued to eat. “If you start to talk, I could have your accommodation improved.” It was an old and tired promise, and one she wasn’t taken in by. 

 

“What about your dragon?” Her eyes flicked up for a moment. Jon saw concern, and a hint of fear. 

 

So that is the path to take?

 

The notion didn’t surprise him too much. The bond between a dragon and their rider was an incredibly deep and intimate one. He would certainly worry for Moonhowler if he were captured. 

 

“You need not worry.” Jon said evenly. “Your dragon is safe and cared for.” And kept docile by a strong combination of some of the best Wargs and strongest spells the Starks had. “You should be proud, she is a beautiful dragon. If you tell us what we want to know, maybe I can let you see her…” The woman seemed to wrestle with the thought for a moment, then looked to the side impassively. 

 

“You do not make this easy.” Jon said, looking at his boots. “There are those who lack my patience. They say waiting for you to talk is taking too long and that compelling  you to talk would be much simpler.” 

 

“I do not fear pain.” Her voice was like ice. Jon’s head shot up to see her looking up at him, her face bathed in the pale grey light streaming from the window. It was certainly progress. 

 

“Tell me about Lord Tywin.” Jon crouched down to her level, hopeful that her damn had broken and more words would flow. “His dragons?” Jon’s voice was met with a cold silence that fell between them. And Jon’s hopes of dissuading Tetra fell with it. 

 

Like a portent of doom, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Tetra in her black and red silk dress. The Valyrian woman rose to her feet, clutching the wooden bowl in hand as it was the only thing resembling a weapon she had. 

 

“I’ve given you long enough.” Tetra glanced at Jon before turning to the prisoner. “Now you can make this easy, or you can make this h-!” Before she could finish, the woman hurled the bowl at Tetra’s head. 

 

The witch slapped it away with ease then pushed her hand out, forcing the silver haired woman flat against the wall with an unseen force. She strained against Tetra’s magic, but to no avail. Still holding her hand out, Tetra strode over to the prisoner and placed a finger to her own lips. 

 

“Shhhhhh.” She said, her spell took hold and the Valyrian woman flopped unconscious. 

 

“Was the mummery necessary?” Jon asked, hand resting on his belt as Tetra moved the prisoner over to her bedroll and sat beside her head. 

 

“Always.” The witch responded. “Now come lie down next to me, there’s a good pup. You’ll have to be the one to sift through her memories.” Looking into the mind of another was incredibly difficult to do, but there were ways. A mage could be a conduit between two minds, connecting them together. Protecting one mind but not the other. Jon grumbled and did as he was told. 

 

“Now you will be able to perceive what she has perceived, even if she doesn’t remember it.” Tetra explained as Jon lay down on a patch of dry straw. 

 

“I am ready.” He said. 

 

Tetra’s hand was on his head, her fingers lacing through his hair. Then Jon knew only blackness. Suddenly his world was filled with light and sound. Images swirled around him and blinding speeds. So fast that Jon felt his mind might be shredded into a thousand tiny pieces. He’d heard stories about that happening to people in the past. A searing hot pain shot through Jon’s skull, like a flaming axe have cleaved it in two. 

 

Breath…  Jon heard a voice. One he recognised. Tetra! I have you. He heard it again. Only a moment more!

 

Jon’s world was still again. 

 

Then it came to him. A girl being born, a babe coming screaming into the world, hearing her mother’s voice. 

 

Men in golden armour taking a babe with silver hairs from her screaming mother’s arms, slitting her throat as they left. After that it was mostly darkness. She was somewhere deep underground. 

 

There were others. Dozens of other children. Some with silver hair, some with purple eyes, some with both, some with neither. 

 

They were taught to fight, to speak, read and write. First in the Common Tongue, then High Valyrian. Always underground, the only light being from torches, never seeing the sun. 

 

When she was five, she saw a man who Jon could only guess was Tywin Lannister. He was younger, his head had not lost it’s hair. He brought dragon eggs before them in great iron chests. Jon couldn’t even count how many eggs there were. Tywin told the children that eventually those eggs would hatch dragons for them to claim. 

 

There was a magic ritual. The girl was sitting in a circle as men chanted around her in a circle of fire. The fire was almost too hot to bare, but eventually the egg hatched in her arms and her dragon crawled out. 

 

Jon felt an all encompassing love consume him. The girl had never known love before that moment. The time after that began to blur. More training. More practicing. Always trying to earn Tywin’s approval as he loomed over them. They were forced to fight each other. Those that did not fight were beaten to death by men in gold armour as they were forced to watch. 

 

After that came her happiest moment, the first time she ever saw the open sky.

 

They were only ever allowed outside at night, and even then only to practice flying over the sea, in the shadow of the great mountain that they lived under. The wind in her hair was freezing as she took to the skies for the first time was the first taste of freedom she ever had. 

 

She could nearly forget the mages sitting behind her on the dragon, hiding them from any who might see and making sure she would return when called. She chose her name after that night.

 

Tywin had never given them names. 

 

Dāezara

 

The High Valyrian word for freedom. 

 

After that came more training, more drilling. Absolute loyalty to Tywin Lannister above all being hammered into them night and day. It went by faster and faster until they got to the battle of the Kingsroad. 

 

At that point Jon was pulled from Dāezara’s mind like a fish caught on the line. The next thing he knew, he was lurching up from the cell floor with a shout, Tetra panting behind him from the effort of holding the spell for so long. 

 

“Gods…” Jon heard her utter. “I need a good hard fucking after that…” 

 

Jon turned around in surprise, seeing her face damp with sweat. “…That an offer?” 

 

Tetra laughed. “Oh no… I prefer men with several decades more experience than you.”

 

They both rose from the floor and left the cell, Dāezara still asleep where they left her. “She will wake soon enough.” Tetra said when she saw Jon gazing at the sleeping prisoner as the cell door closed and they walked on, leaving Alfred with the guards. “Don’t feel sorry for her.” 

 

“She has never been given a choice.” Jon did feel a stirring of sympathy for the girl. The closest thing she had ever had to a father had been Tywin Lannister. 

 

Tetra shrugged. “Few ever are.” 

 

“Now I am more convinced I will be able to persuade her to turning her cloak.” 

 

Tetra swatted him on the back of the head. “Must I examine your head, boy?” She rounded on him. “I don’t know what you saw in her thoughts, but I saw that she’s been conditioned to be loyal to Tywin Lannister above all.” 

 

“I saw a yearning for freedom.” Jon responded. “She and all her siblings serve Lord Tywin out of fear, but deep in her heart, she wishes to stand in the sun and be able to decide for herself without anyone watching over her.” 

 

Tetra pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “That girl would burn you, me and all our armies if Tywin ordered her to.” 

 

Jon decided to change the subject. “Did you see how many dragons they have?” Many of the images had blurred together. All Jon could guess were a few score eggs had been stolen by Tywin’s men. 

 

“A few dozen, at least.” Tetra hummed. “Tywin must have had his men steal as many dragon eggs as they could when they sacked King’s Landing.” 

 

“And cause the dragons to escape to hide the evidence.” Jon agreed. His father had told him of Tywin’s sack of the capital in the closing days of the Rebellion. Lannister men had stormed the Dragon pit, supposedly in an effort to secure the Targaryen dragons. Some had gotten loose and attacked everything in sight, destroying parts of the dragon pens and killing hundreds. Many eggs had been lost, assumed destroyed by the rubble and the rampaging beasts. At least that was what Lord Tywin had reported to his father and Robert Baratheon when he had met with them. 

 

“He must have been taking the Mad King’s bastards for years.” Tetra thought aloud. “It makes sense… He was Hand, he would have known Aerys’ movements. Perhaps he had even been ordered to… dispose of unwanted bastards by the king himself.” 

 

Jon grimaced. From the tales of the Mad King, he found it difficult to doubt he would have ordered the deaths of his children. Bastards perhaps, but still his own blood. “So with one hand he pilfered Targaryen babes and the other, he took Targaryen dragons.” Even Jon had to admit it was a good plan. A terrible act for a certainty. But still a sound strategy. 

 

“Long had Tywin desired dragons for his house.” Tetra said. “Finally he decided he would not wait to be given them.” 

 

The pair had stopped walking aimlessly through the corridors of Riverrun as she had been doing. They stood by a large stained glass window that looked over the Tumblestone, their wolves and Toothless sat a few feet back from them. 

 

“He must have more.” Jon said finally. “Mayhaps at Casterly Rock.” 

 

“As shrewd a man as Tywin is, he would have sent them to reinforce King’s Landing.” Tetra corrected him. Just then, a door at the other end of the corridor opened and Cleaton Snow walked through it. 

 

“Just who I was after.” He said when he saw Jon. Tetra had her back to Cleaton, so he didn’t see her rolling her eyes as he walked towards them. 

 

“Is there something I can do for you, cousin?” Jon asked courteously. The man was a bore, but he was a bore with the second biggest dragon the Starks had. Cleaton eyed Tetra curiously, perhaps spending a moment too long on the woman’s prominent bust and rear before turning to Jon. 

 

“I’ve been thinking…” Cleaton began. “I ride the biggest dragon in the Stark army,” Second biggest  “And I am the son of your father’s older brother.” He continued. “We should join our family lines.” The bastard seemed proud of himself for that. 

 

Jon clenched his jaw. “…Excuse me?” 

 

“Join our family lines.” Cleaton repeated. “I should marry your sister. You know, the pretty ginger one with the big tits- Sensa?” 

 

“…Sansa.” 

 

“That’s the one.” 

 

“You… want to marry Sansa?” 

 

“It would make sense, and put an end to all the rumours about the succession.”  

 

“…Succession?” 

 

“Many are saying I deserve to be the heir as my dragon is the biggest and I’m the elder son’s heir.” Cleanton said, raising his hands up. “Not me though. But I have heard men in the camps saying it.” 

 

Jon didn’t quite know how to start. He tried to find the words that might not offend the man. It was proving a difficult task. “I… uh…” 

 

Tetra burst out laughing. Hysterically. Clearly that caught Cleaton by surprise. 

 

“Have I said something funny, wench?” 

 

“Yes!” Tetra tittered breathlessly. “You thought they might marry a Stark to a runt like you? That’s the best jape i’ve heard in years.” 

 

Cleaton shifted uncomfortably and clenched his jaw. “I ride a dragon, you can’t speak to me like that.” He said through gritted teeth. 

 

With a flick of the witch’s wrist, she sent him into the wall and held him there with an invisible force. 

 

“Tetra!” Jon reprimanded her as Cleaton grunted, trying to move. 

 

“I can speak to you however I wish, runt.” She spat venom at the bastard. “You come south stinking of sheep and piss, riding a dragon you are unworthy of and you think that gives you power to make demands of us?” She stepped forward pushing him harder against the wall. “You haven’t even seen battle yet. Prove yourself and maybe you shall be rewarded.” She released him and he stumbled to the floor. “Until then don’t show your face to me, or I shall turn you into a newt.” Then with a swirl of her black and red dress, she turned and began to stride to the other end of the corridor. 

 

“You didn’t need to antagonise him,” Jon hissed as he hurried after her. “We gain nothing angering our dragonriders.” 

 

“That little mongrel thought himself worthy of a Stark.” Tetra’s tone was ice cold. “We should kill him before he starts trouble.” 

 

“That was a poor jest.” Jon responded as they walked into Riverrun’s yard, hoping that she was indeed jesting. Tetra didn’t answer him as they strode towards a collection of wooden benches where men and women were sharpening their weapons in the sun. 

 

Jon noticed Beric was sitting among them with the Witcher Samara and Leonard Dhalark, Uncle Arthur’s squire. Together they were cleaning their swords. Beric had his curved red Uru blade, the Forlorn Hope, across his lap, running an oiled cloth over it with care. Tetra didn’t say a word as she kicked his sword off his lap and practically fell on him in it’s place stretching out to rest her feet on Samara’s knees. 

 

“I want you to ravage me until I can’t remember my name, dears.” She said, brazenly, to the surprised looks of many around them. Beric’s face changed from indignation that she would kick his sword away, to concern for his paramour. 

 

“You been reading minds again?” The grizzled Witcher asked as his hands snaked across her hips. 

 

“Yes.” Tetra rested her head on his shoulder in a show of vulnerability Jon wasn’t used to seeing from her. “You can fuck me here or in our bed, but choose now.” 

 

Beric and Samara’s reaction was nearly instant. They both rose from their bench and began walking out of the courtyard, Beric carrying Tetra in his arms. 

 

“It’s good to see you too, Uncle Beric.” Jon sarcastically said to their backs as they walked away. 

 

“You Starks do love your women.” Leonard chuckled as he polished his blade. 

 

“I suppose you can hardly blame us for that, Lenny.” Jon responded with a smile. 

 

“Speaking of women.” Lenny laid his sword down and stood up. “Lady Genna arrived earlier, she has news from home.” 

 

“What kind?” Jon asked, though his mind was mainly focusing on the idea of getting the Ryder matriarch into his bed again.

 

“The good kind, but she also asked after you.” Lenny gave a knowing smile. 

 

Jon felt his blood begin to run hot. “In that case I shouldn’t keep her waiting.” As he walked away, he heard Lenny mutter. “You Starks…” under his breath. 

 

Knowing Genna as well as he did, Jon imagined she would go to the infirmary first to see her injured son. Ygritte and Val had been sitting by their brother’s bedside night and day after the battle beside the Greenfork. Thankfully Tytos’ arm was healing, but there was only so much one could do against dragonfire. 

 

Jon came upon Genna as she was leaving the infirmary. She was a vision of Lannister beauty, even as her eyes had been reddened by tears. 

 

“Gods,” She exclaimed when she saw him. “I’m glad you are well Jon. And your father.” She drew him into a tight embrace, pressing her whole body against his. 

 

“As am I, my Lady.” Jon wrapped his arms around her waist. “You saw Tytos?” Genna gripped him a little tighter. “He is a strong man.” Jon tried to reassure her. “He heals fast.” She didn’t need to know that they had to cut off the armour that had fused to his skin under the dragon’s flames. 

 

“I know…” Genna finally said when they pulled apart. “I know…” She collected herself, dabbing her eyes then addressed Jon fully. “There have been Ironborn attacks on the Western coast, the vast majority of which were repelled.” 

 

“Gods damn...” Jon ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The last thing the North needed was to have to fight on another front. He remembered the smirking worm of a Greyjoy that was a friend of Joffrey’s. Theon.  The Lannisters must have made common cause with the Greyjoys against the North. 

 

“The majority were rebuffed.” Genna repeated. “And those that weren’t have managed to achieve little and less.” 

 

“Does Robb know?” 

 

“He was my first stop.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“They attacked Rydertown too.” Genna reported. “A hundred Ironborn ships. They filled the harbour.” Jon knew it was far from the first time the western gate of the Great Canal had been attacked. He’d lost count of all the fleets that had broken upon it’s walls like waves on a beach. Given Genna’s demeanour, he imagined this attack was much the same. 

 

“We had ten of those large Thunderers that those dwarves from the Engineer’s Guild gave us.” Genna informed him. “They reduced the Ironborn fleet into kindling. Barely thirty of their ships managed to get away. My Lord husband has ordered a hundred more to fortify our city.” 

 

Ten Thunderers helping sink seventy ships was certainly and impressive figure. Jon imagined the reaction of the Greyjoys to their black powder weapons was similar to the Lannister one: Panic followed by death. 

 

“Your Lord husband has secured a great victory for the North.” Jon stated. “We shall honour him when we return.” 

 

“He shall be glad to hear that.” Genna smiled, then looked to the side. “I had thought I might visit Myrcella now that she has come North, and see my brother and nephew in their cells after seeing Tytos…” she said, before bringing him close again. “But now that I see you again after so long, a question forms in my mind.” 

 

Jon leaned in closer to her, knowing what she meant. “Care to ask it?” 

 

“Are my daughters performing their wifely duties to you satisfaction, my Prince.” Genna asked innocently. 

 

“They are divine.” Jon said. “But I do feel there’s something missing…” 

 

“Perhaps I might be of assistance?” Genna pressed her massive breasts against his chest, rose to her tiptoes and gave Jon a deep, sensual kiss. 

 

“I’ve missed your body...” Jon groaned as he ran his hands over her wide hips. 

 

“I’ve missed your cock.” Genna laughed. “And I know the perfect place to reacquaint myself with it.”

 

Genna lead him through Riverrun’s corridors and out into the the godswood. It was quiet and deserted there, the tree branches mostly covering the view of the sky. It would be far from the first time Jon had fucked her in a godswood, some of his best memories were of fucking her in the pools of Rypeak’s castle godswood when he had been fostered with the Ryders for a time.

 

Their steps were quick as Genna lead Jon by his breeches to the slender weirwood that was Riverrun’s heart tree. The pair quickly disrobed, not needing to talk to understand each other. Jon took the opportunity to admire Genna’s ample curves as she shimmied out of her dress. Her huge bosom bounced delightfully under his gaze, her tiny pink nipples had formed hardened points in the open air.

 

When both had fully divested themselves of their attire, they came together in a clash of lust and flesh. Their mouths met with breathy moans of desire. Jon felt Genna’s hands caressing the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair, he had other targets in mind. One of his hands went to Genna’s massive behind, squeezing her fleshy cheeks and pulling her body close to him. The other hand went to her breast, cupping the mammary and pinching her nipple.

 

Their frenzied kissing and groping lasted for some time, their tongues writhing together as their fingers danced across their bodies. Genna had to raid on her toes and lift her head up to kiss him now, Jon mused to himself. He remembered a time when he had been shorter than her.

 

Eventually Genna began to manoeuvre Jon backwards into the tree, he let her as she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to sit on the tree’s roots. She stood above him then, hand on her hip, green eyes burning with desire, locked on his achingly hard cock.

 

“It seems my daughters have left you wanting, my Prince…” Genna said seductively as she slowly lowered herself to her knees between Jon’s legs.

 

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to pick up their slack?” Jon smiled, placing his hands behind his head as he leaned back, ready to enjoy the view he knew was coming.

 

Genna smirked. “Of course…” She placed a hand on the base of his cock. Her fingers couldn’t reach the whole way around. Her hands were hot to the touch, Jon’s cock thrumbed as she held him tight. “Such an impressive specimen as this deserves hourly relief.”

 

With that, Genna placed her other hand on Jon’s thigh and leant forwards to take the head of Jon’s cock into her mouth. He closed his eyes, groaning at the sensations of her suckling on him as her tongue rand around his cock with practiced ease. Her hand slowly began to rub up and down his length as she sucked on him.

 

Genna’s position on her knees afforded Jon an excellent view of her body. Her breasts hung from her chest, pressing against his thighs and her arse was in the air, the muscles of her back flexing to keep balance as she bobbed up and down his length. Her mouth had moved past his cockhead now, moving down his shaft, taking him deeper into her mouth.

 

Jon would freely admit that Genna was a peerless cock-sucker. She had enthusiasm, experience and skill. He had lost track of how many hours she had spent in his room, bringing him to climax after climax with only her mouth.

 

After a while longer Genna took her hand off his thigh and wrapped it around his shaft as well. Jon could tell she was entering her more serious phase of oral pleasure. The gagging sounds became louder and her movements became quicker, her golden hair bouncing almost as much as her monumental breasts.

 

A thrum of pleasure went through Jon’s loins as the pressure built higher and higher. Genna’s tight throat and massaging his cock in the most delicious ways, begging him to bless it with his seed as he had done so many times before to Genna and her daughters.

 

Jon gazed into her bright green eyes as he brushed a golden lock from her face. They were wide and watery as she’d not come up for air yet, a red flush creeping up from her chest to her face. Jon threaded his hands through Genna’s hair and began to move her head up and down his shaft.

 

She eagerly surrendered to his control.

 

Her body was limp in his hands as Jon ploughed the throat of his good-mother. Without his aide, she had only been going half way down his shaft, with his help she was surpassing two thirds of it. Her plump lips spread wide to accommodate him as her eyes rolled back.

 

Her hands had made their way to her cunt. She was playing with herself as he used her. The thought made Jone even harder. His balls were slapping her chin before long, echoing out through the quiet wood, accompanied by Genna’s gagging and Jon’s occasional groans.

 

“What a whore you are.” Jon grunted as he thrust deep into her mouth. Genna could only hum in agreement. “But good whores get what they deserve.” Jon groaned, before his cock pulsed, then again and again.

 

His cock sent rope after rope of his seed near directly into Genna’s stomach. To her credit, the woman barely gagged on her meal. She sealed her lips to the flesh of Jon’s cock and sucked on him for the entire duration of his climax. Jon leaned forward and brought his hand down hard on her arse, a loud smack rang through the air as Genna moaned wantonly.

 

“Gods… it’s always so much.” Genna choked when she lifted off his cock, wiping her mouth of his seed that had spilled from her plump lips. “It’s a wonder you didn’t get Val and Ygritte pregnant before you married them.” She licked her fingers, smirking at him.

 

“It certainly wasn’t from a lack of trying on their part.” Jon chuckled. The twins were as wanton and lusty as their mother.

 

“I should hope so.” Her eyes fell to Jon’s cock, still achingly hard in spite of just giving Genna her biggest meal of the day. “It seems my task is not yet done.”

 

“Much to your dismay, I’m sure.” Jon smiled as Genna took his cock in and, rose up and sheathed it within her as she sat on his lap. Her eyes fluttered as she felt his cock stretch her cunt to it’s liking. Jon’s hands instinctively went to her wide, fleshy hips.

 

“I never want to get used to the feeling of you inside me.” Genna moaned as she leant against Jon, her hands on his shoulders. “So sooo good…”

 

Jon felt the muscles of her womanhood squeeze his cock, bathing it in warm wetness. “Your cunt is enough to drive men mad.” He grunted as he raised his hips, plunging deeper into Genna.

 

“Fuck!” She moaned quietly. Then she began to collect herself as she acclimated to being stretched by Jon’s cock after a time away from it.

 

Genna straightened up and presented her enormous breasts to Jon with a seductive look, then she began to ease her hips back and forth. His eyes were fixed to Genna’s breasts as she rocked back and forth on his cock, drawing lowed moans and high squeaks from the back of her throat. It was barely a minute before Jon’s mouth latched to one of her nipples and began to suck on it greedily.

 

“That’s it!” Genna moaned, riding Jon with more gusto, loud slapping of her arsecheecks on his thighs echoing out. “My bosom is yours. My cunt is yours. My body is yours!”

 

Genna was falling deeper into the throws of pleasure. Jon was ravaging her for all her worth, and she wanted to be ravaged. He was in a paradise all his own. Genna’s tight and needy cunt massaged and coaxed every ounce of pleasure it could from his cock while her huge breasts filled his view. They were some of the largest breasts Jon had ever seen let alone enjoyed. They were even larger than Val’s pregnancy swollen breasts.

 

Leaving his lovers breasts, Jon raised his eyes to Genna’s face as it contorted in pleasure. He gripped her hair in a way that sent a shiver through her body and looked into her eyes. They were hazy and clouded with pleasure as Jon thrust up into her. Jon spat into her wide open mouth as she moaned his name, she gulped it down greedily.

 

“You’re my whore.” Jon grunted, thrusting faster and faster into her.

 

“Yes!” Genna cried, her pleasure leaking from her cunt around his cock, bathing him in warmth.

 

“I’m your whore! I love you! YOU’RE MY FAVOURITE LOVER!” with her last confession, Genna’s eyes fluttered shut as she was torn through a shivering full body climax apthat shook her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

 

Every inch of fleshy goodness on her body shook as she rode Jon. The woman lost all control over her body as she shook and wailed. She knew only pleasure as Jon ploughed her, ripping the ever-higher notes of her climax from her mouth like it was an instrument of pleasure.

 

As the aftershocks of pleasure reverberated through Genna’s body, Jon pushed her into her back and mounted her.  “I think it’s time you had a rest.” Jon grinned. “Lie back and enjoy yourself.”

 

Genna’s eyes instantly rolled up into her head as he rammed every inch his foot long cock the whole way into her cunt. “Fuck!!!” The Lannister woman howled in pleasure.

 

Her body instantly succumbed to him again, her cunt eagerly accepting his cock as it plundered her depths again and again without restraint or resistance. Genna’s legs and arms wrapped around Jon’s back and held on for dear life.

 

“Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods!” She whimpered weakly as Jon slammed every inch of his cock into her again and again.

 

Jon placed his hands beside her head on the grass to hold him up as he ploughed her. Genna’s eyes had glazed over in pleasure. He was forcefully drawing every ounce of erotic pleasure from her volumputous body.

 

Her words were an inchoherant babble about his cock and how much she love it and him. Jon’s weight pinned her hard to the grassy ground as he thrust deep into her intent on breeding his good-mother. It didn’t take long before her next climax ripped through her, then her next and the next.

 

Jon silenced her screaming voice with his a kiss, dominating her mouth with his own as his cock dominated her cunt. Their limbs wrapped around each other as the world fell away around them. There was no war to wage, no kings to topple. There was only them and their lovemaking. Their incessant need to fuck.

 

“I’m going to fuck you forever.” Jon growled as she squealed in climax her body arching up to him suddenly, pushing her breasts up. Jon was never a man to turn down an opportunity and he began to ravage her bosom as he ravaged her cunt.

 

Genna was weeping from pleasure when Jon finally filled her cunt with his seed, triggering another climax from her as she felt Jon’s throbbing cock fill her womb with his seed.

 

That was far from the end of their session. Jon ravaged his lover like a wolf, taking her again and again. He filled every hole she had to offer. And she offered them gladly. It was many hours before Jon left the godswood, going in search of his brother. While fucking Genna had been a most enjoyable experience, Jon knew he really needed to be available if something were to happen and Robb needed him.

 

He found Robb talking in the main hall with Lord Hornwood, Greywind curled up by the fire. “It’s an inconvenience, but it’s the truth.” Lord Hornwood said as Jon walked in. “The men are growing restless. They’re at war and if they have no enemy to fight, they will find one, your Grace.”

 

“Trouble?” Jon asked as he leant on a long table.

 

“Not much of one, Prince Jon.” Lord Hornwood bowed slightly. “I was taking reports of brawls breaking out here and there around the camps.”

 

“I would have thought our lords more than capable of keeping their men disciplined.” Jon crossed his arms.

 

“And we do.” Lord Hornwood straightened up. “But we can only do so much. These men are far from home and ready to fight. I say again if they cannot find an enemy they will make one from their friends.”

 

“Anyone dead?”

 

“No, thank the Gods.” Lord Hornwood answered. “But the longer we stay idle, the chances of deaths grow.”

 

“The men aren’t the only ones who are restless.” Robb finally said, fingers drumming the table. “Father is to the south and in his absence, I have the command.”

 

“And what do you command, brother?” Jon asked.

 

Robb rose from his seat with a smile, reaching across the table for a map of the Westerlands. “That we not sit idle.”

 

 

 

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned

 

 

They were back at the lake they had rested at on the journey south. Little had changed, save their added passenger and the more somber mood. Their dragons and wolves were drinking side by side from the waters as Ned, Sansa and Aly Snow stood together. 

 

“His own brother?” Sansa was aghast, her face pale. 

 

“There is little the Gods despise more than a kinslayer.” Aly spat. 

 

I am sorry Robert, your brothers would not listen to me.

 

“It was Dark sorcery.” Ned said. “We will have to double our protection barriers when we return to camp.” 

 

Aly glowered. “His red woman. She’s trouble, no doubt.” 

 

“She certainly has power.” Ned agreed. “Power that Stannis is using to further his claim.” 

 

“What will this mean for Renly’s army now?” Sansa asked. “For his former Queen?” 

 

“The Stormlords will flock to Stannis, that’s a certainty.” Ned scratched his chin. They knew him and knew that he was aware how much he needed them, no matter their loyalties to Renly. “The Reach? I doubt it. They besieged Stannis for a year and he never yielded to them, not even as he starved. He will not forget that, and they know it.” 

 

“So they retreat to Highgarden?” Aly asked. 

 

“Some - the Florents - might join Stannis, but the bulk of the Reachmen will head back south.” Ned reckoned. 

 

“Or join the Lannisters…” Sansa suggested. 

 

“Don’t tempt the fates.” The Gods knew the Lannisters didn’t need more help. 

 

“It strikes me you went south to find a King to bend your knee to.” Aly quirked her eyebrow at Ned. “And come back with none. All that’s left is your son and he’s already offered you his crown.” 

 

“We’ll have no talk of that at present.” Ned told her. He could only focus on so many things at once.

 

“As you command, your Grace…” 

 

“What of Brienne?” Sansa asked. 

 

The blonde warrior was standing away from them, kneeling by the lake, gazing at Renly’s sword. She had said little during the flight other than a small thank you. “I would go to Storm’s End.” Brienne stated, clearly she could hear them the whole time. 

 

“To die?” Aly asked. 

 

“To kill Stannis.” 

 

“He is surrounded by too many swords.” Ned said. “I was there when Renly died. There was nothing more you could have done. He would not want you to get yourself killed for his memory.” That last part was probably a lie. Ned knew Renly and he was certainly the sort that liked the idea of people valiantly dying for a fallen leader. Not him though. Other people would do the dying. 

 

“I would bring justice to a kinslayer and kingslayer, both.” She rose to her feet defiantly.

 

“You would die before you ever saw Stannis. He would never even have to learn your name.” 

 

“Think, girl.” Alys said. “The man has a dragon and Foebreaker. You’re good with a blade but few are that good.” 

 

Brienne looked crestfallen. “If I cannot avenge my King then what am I? What could I do?” 

 

“You could serve the Starks.” Aly suggested. “You’d be hard pressed to find finer masters. They will treat you fairly and with honour.” 

 

The large woman seemed to think on Aly’s words. “You saved my life, why?” 

 

“You were innocent and I had the power to help you.” 

 

“If the time came when I might deal out justice on Stannis, would you hold me back?” She asked Ned. 

 

“Only if it would destroy a peace.” Ned admitted. His honesty seemed to be accepted. 

 

“Then my sword is yours.” She laid it at Ned’s feet and knelt, swearing oaths of fealty that Ned had heard a hundred times or more. 

 

The hour wast late and their dragons were tired, so they decided to make camp for the night. It was the hour of the Wolf when Ned heard a sound that roused him from his bedroll. Choking, then a hard crack of wood. 

 

Ned emerged from his small tent to see Aly Snow standing over a red robed figure splayed out on the ground, her cane in hand. 

 

“Icewing heard her sneaking up on us.” She stated, turning over the unconscious body. 

Ned was shocked to see Stannis’ red woman in his camp.

 

 

—————————

 

Robb

 

 

Robb and Jon took a portion of their force from Riverrun two days later, marching towards the Westerlands. They were four dragonriders leading a fully mounted army. Robb had decided to take Cleaton and Dagmer with them as their rode the two biggest dragons. 

 

It took them two days to reach the Golden Tooth and less than two hours to take it. In spite of the keep’s size, it was a strong castle, difficult for a force of any size to take. Unfortunately for them, Robb had dragons and they did not. Harren the Black showed how well a castle might do against them. 

 

The Lefford lady yielded the castle to them as soon as their dragons flew over head. Their army camped there only for a night, but was more than enough time for Robb and Jon to give the lady of the castle a proper reward for yielding so quickly. 

 

After the lady surrendered her cunt, she surrendered much information to the twins. She told them of Stafford Lannister’s encampment, that it was near the village of Oxcross and that it’s defences were likely poor. All she asked for in return was that one of them ploughed her arsehole while the other used her throat. They happily obliged her. 

 

Plans of attack were drawn and they rode out to face the Lannister army. 

 

It was the hour of the wolf when they made their move. The Lannisters had sent out few scouts as they thought themselves protected in the Westerlands. The dragons would hit them first, causing panic and mayhem, using ice walls to block the Lannister men in. Then the cavalry would come in behind to mop up the disarrayed troops. 

 

Robb knew there was a likelihood of magically hidden dragons but none bad been seen by their warg scouts. The camp was on the side of a rocky hill in sight of Oxcross, a shallow river ran from their position to the Lannister camp. 

 

Seeing a nod from Jon, Robb knew all were ready for the attack. He signalled the horns to blow as he urged Gnasher into the sky, the other dragons following. Grey wind leant his voice to the low droning of the horns, filling the night sky with a deafening sound. 

 

It took barely a few moments for the dragons to reach the camp. Seeing them through Gansher’s eyes, Robb guessed there was around ten thousand of them. Some were running frantically between the tents, rousing the men as their enemy approached. 

 

They looked like ants. 

 

Gnasher, Moonhowler, Snowfall and Behemoth flew side by side over the camp. Together all four dragons rained ice-cold death on the men below. Scores of tents were frozen solid in moments. The biting wind whirled around them as they circled the camp for another pass. Robb heard Cleaton whooping loudly as he saw the destruction his dragon wrought. 

 

Four columns of northern cavalry struck the camp like the fist of an angry god. One on either side of the river and the other two circling around the take the camp in the flanks. Shouts of pain and warhorns and the rending of steel filled the air. 

 

That was when Robb saw it. 

 

There was a reason the camp had few defences they could see. At the top of the hill, away from the encampment, fifty Luminarks had just been uncovered and were preparing to fire in their direction, golden energies coalescing around them. 

 

“SCATTER!” Robb shouted over the wind, as he swerved Gansher into a dive towards the ground. 

 

Jon banked right, making Moonhowler fold his wings, falling into a roll through the air. Dagmer and Cleaton were a different story, they were the less experienced dragonriders. Behemoth’s bulk prevented him from moving with much swiftness. Cleaton, to Robb’s dismay, went charging straight at the group of Luminarks. 

 

Dozens of beams of shining gold light erupted from the hillside. Some arched down to the riders on the ground, vaporising them in an instant. Others went after the dragons in flight, three caught Behemoth in the chest, making the great beast roar in pain angrily. 

 

Robb and Jon managed to dodge any beams that came their way. Cleaton, being much closer, caught the most golden rays. Some struck Snowfall in the head, temporarily blinding the dragon just as he left out a frozen breath. 

 

Robb watched in horror as Cleaton accidentally cut off a portion of their army from reinforcements with a great wall of ice. The roar of more dragons meant Robb would have to deal with Cleaton’s mistakes later.

 

 

—————————

 

Beric

 

 

The night was cold and dark as they prepared for the battle. The steam from the breaths of horses and men formed a thin mist around them as they stood hidden among the trees. Beric was leaning against a tree by the shallow river, running his hand through Roach’s fur. The great grey-black direwolf was restless, he knew a battle was coming. 

 

He’d already seen too many. 

 

Tetra pulled up next to him on the back of Moon-Eyes. Gone were her fine silks, now she wore a red and black Gambeson and breeches, with a black Uru chainmail shirt, her bow slung over her shoulder. 

 

“Any nerves before the fight?” Beric chuckled as he eyed one of his paramours. The last true battle she had been in was during the War of the Nine Penny Kings, decades before many of the people standing around them were born. She looked about to respond with a no-doubt witty barb when Samara sidled up beside her. 

 

“I think we fucked all the jitters out of her earlier.” She laughed. Beric joined her. 

 

Before they could continue, the signal to mount up made it’s way through the army. The time for idle talk was done. Beric climbed into his saddle and donned a wolf’s head helmet. He felt the Folorn Hope vibrating in it’s sheath, humming in anticipation of the coming tide of blood. The blade was thirsty. 

 

“Do try not to die, both of you.” Tetra near whispered to Beric and Samara. “I’d hate to have to resort to necromancy.” 

 

“At least then you’d be able to make us bow to your every whim.” Samara chuckled. 

 

“You do that already.” 

 

The horns sounded, the dragons roared and the wolves howled. Now was the time for the sword and axe. Beric snapped his fingers and the Forlorn Hope flew out of it’s scabbard and into his hand, the red Uru blade glittered in the moonlight. Uru had a certain beauty to it. The metal looked and felt more like polished marble than steel, with veins of colour snaking across it’s surface. The sounds of ringing metal filled the air as hundreds of Uru blades were drawn. 

 

Beric urged Roach forward at a trot to begin with, as the dragons flew overhead. His paramours, his loves, fell in beside him. Behind them came the others. They followed the path of the river towards the Lannister camp, making their way through the trees that covered their approach. 

 

Twenty heart beats later they quickened their pace. Another thirty and Beric quickened again. Before long they left the cover of the trees at a full gallop. The direwolves having to restrain themselves from easily outpacing the horses. 

 

Thundering hooves and shouting men and warhorns were all Beric heard when he lead the charge into the Lannister camp. The first strafe of the dragons had been a success from what he could see scores of men and tents were frozen solid. The Lannisters barely had a few lines of spears to slow their charge. 

 

Roach let out a fearsome snarl as he launched himself at the nearest Lannister, tearing their head off. A steel pike would have scraped along Beric’s armour if he hadn’t batted it away with the blade of his sword then brought it down on his attacker, cleaving through metal and flesh and bone. 

 

Their column of riders thundered through the meagre Lannister defences, cutting down all in their path. Beric could see their other columns of riders dashing round and hitting the camp on it’s other sides. He raced ahead on top of Roach, charging to the centre of the camp. 

 

Beric’s hand gripped the dragon’s-tooth hilt of his sword tightly as he beheaded a troll that thought to deter him. All the blood he spilled was being greedily consumed by the Forlorn Hope. The Red Uru blade drew the blood of it’s victims into itself, growing in power and desire for more. 

 

The bloodlust was on him, or maybe it was Roach’s. It mattered not, both man and wolf slaughtered their way through the camp. Men fought them and fell, or they ran and fell. A Warrior Priest knocked Beric off Roach as he fired a tent, Beric ended up ripping the man’s throat out with his fangs. 

 

A man in black armour, with a Jast banner on his surcoat thought he might end the old Witcher then, running at him mace and shield raised, shouting at the top of his lungs. Just as the Jast was about to strike, Beric feinted left then side-stepped to the right, turned on his heel and brought his sword cutting down on the Jast’s shoulder. 

 

It cut all the way down to his waist. A fountain of warm crimson erupted from the lord’s body, painting Beric’s armour red. He tasted the iron in the air when he heard it. 

 

Fifty beams of light arched across the sky, coating the battlefield in a harsh white light. For a few moments the darkness of night was chased away before the light died as it chased the dragons through the sky. 

 

“Fucking Luminarks.” Beric swore under his breath. He knew they had to be up the hill, having been camouflaged by their mages. “Fucking Southerners and their fucking Luminarks.” 

 

He watched as his nephews flew across the sky, dodging the coils of light that danced after them. The other two dragonriders were not so lucky. One was struck as it tried to dodge, the other was caught in the face. And for some reason only the Gods knew, breathed a wall of ice along the camp fifty feet behind Beric, cutting him and a great many others off from Stark reinforcements. They were trapped with the Lannisters having been able to form a counter force. 

 

Beric’s rest was ended when two horsemen tried to make him a head shorter. He cut the two horses legs out from beneath them and finished off the two men in short order. 

 

“To me, Roach!” Beric called as his wolf bounded over a tent with a troll arm in his maw, his armour stained red with blood. Beric mounted and rode down the hill cursing his bloodlust. He had over extended his charge and lead his followers too deep into the camp. 

 

He found Tetra in a circle of mounted men, shooting off spells to break the ice wall as Samara ripped the head off a lion and held it aloft, roaring and hitting her chest. 

 

“Can you break through it!?” Beric shouted over the battle as he rode to the circle, right before a group of Lannister lances charged them. 

 

“Give me a fucking moment, love! Would you please!?” Tetra shrilly responded to him, fire streaming from her fingers towards the ice. But there was little she could do. It was dragon’s ice. It required dragon’s fire to melt it. 

 

A few dozen Stark riders with a Dustin leading were cutting their way through Lannister men to get to the main group when Beric saw them vaporised in an instant by golden beams of light. Then more came, striking the ground around them, throwing up dust and ash and dirt into the air. 

 

Beric saw his nephews were preoccupied dealing with the Lannister dragons in the sky, they were having much and more trouble dodging the Luminark’s rays. A hail of arrows came on them as the Lannister’s forces manoeuvred around to crush Beric and his comrades against the wall. 

 

“Fuck the ice!” Samara shouted to Tetra, pulling her hand away. “We need to focus on killing the Luminarks!” 

 

“There are too many!” A man with a Karstark surcoat shouted as he held his shield high to block the arrows that fell like rain around them. 

 

“We’re fucking dead either way.” Samara answered him. “But lets take those Seven-worshiping bastards with us!” 

 

“Tetra, clear us space, then we charge!” Beric ordered, Tetra began to move her hands, conjuring a great ball of lightning. 

 

A deafening boom of electric energy cleared their way and Beric lead the charge up the hill with renewed vigour. It was hard fighting and many fell along the way, but through the blood and the death, a few dozen of them made it to the glowing golden barrier that protected the Luminarks. 

 

“Can you break it?” Samara asked Tetra when they reached the barrier, dozens of Septons were on their knees on the other side, their prayers giving the shield strength. 

 

“Shut your tarty mouth and let me work!” Tetra replied as she raised her hands to the sky and began speaking in the Old Tongue. 

 

“O̸̬͂ ̵̡́M̷͇͑á̵̯l̴̞̎p̴̬̄ȟ̶͎ą̷͠s̸̜͌,̶̭̏ ̴̡́b̵̰͒ĕ̵̯v̵͙́i̷̠̊n̶̟͊g̵̤̈e̶̘̔t̸̯̏ ̸̪̂h̸̩́e̶͇̕ř̵̞r̵͚̿e̴̟̿ ̴̱͑a̵̢̿v̴͓̿ ̶̽͜g̷͉͐r̴̮̆å̷͖̍d̸͈̊i̶͙̕g̷͙͌h̷̹́ę̵̄ṭ̶̃,̶͇̐ ̴̼͂M̶̛̯e̵̬͝d̶̪́ ̸̨͘k̶̥̊l̶̗̿ø̷̥̂r̴̼̓ ̷̝̋s̸̥̋å̴̧͌ ̷͉̾s̷͖̍k̴͓͊à̴͓r̴̠̈p̸̮̚e̴͙̚ ̵̺͆ö̴̥g̶̫̓ ̶̣͛ø̴͘͜y̷̞͊n̶̥͌ë̴͍ ̸̦͠s̵̨͑ȏ̷͎m̵̦̂ ̶̬̕s̵̪̍ê̸̤r̸͍͂,̵̜̒ ̶͚͐G̸̺͝i̶̝͠ ̸̝̾m̵̺͗ë̵̜́g̸̪͂ ̶͘ͅk̷̩̏ṛ̶̇ą̸͛f̴͍̀t̶͓͑e̶̦͝n̴̼̐,̴̯̀ ̶̟͑v̴̡̌i̷̫̅l̶͔̔l̵̦͑ ̷̟͆ö̸̞́g̵̅͜ ̴͔̕f̵̗̓r̷̬͋i̷̼͒,̴̘̀ ̷̙̀Ĭ̷̤ ̴͓̔ḍ̴̀ī̶͕t̴̻̓ţ̴̿ ̸̛̫n̵̺͛å̷͍v̸̟̇n̸͈͋,̸̬̇ ̸͉͐s̴̬̏ț̶̛å̷͕̈r̶͕͋ ̵̻̍j̷̖̃ḛ̶̌g̵̪̅ ̸͓̉b̸̨̀e̴̤̽s̸͇̏u̸̢͋d̴͂͜l̷̪̏e̵̳̾ṫ̸̳.̷̘͒ ̴̜̇G̵̦̀j̴̞̓e̸̬̍n̸͎̊n̵̝̚o̸͍̅m̵̳͌ ̸̩́m̷͔̕e̵̬̾g̷̼͊ ̸̢̏s̶̩̐k̶̭̀a̴̻͋l̸̵̘͙̄̊d̷̺͘i̵̬̅ņ̷̂ ̴͍̌ḫ̸͝ṳ̸̿n̸͙͠ǵ̶̝e̴̩͆r̵̘̐ ̵̼̅s̴̨̃v̵̞͗ḛ̵͂ṿ̶͝ḛ̶̂,̵̞̉ ̴̥͗J̶̩̀e̵̺͊g̷̨̿ ̷͕̚e̴̠̿ȑ̷̰ ̸̹̆d̶̗̕í̷͙n̷̙͐ ̵̪̅f̵̰͗ö̶̥́r̸̋ͅ ̶̢̈́ḛ̷͊v̴̝̐i̴̯̎g̶̹͂h̴̝̑e̶̒ͅt̸̼͘ĕ̷͍n̷͖̽!̸̻͝”

 

Four School of the Lion Witchers tried to fight their way to Tetra, Beric stood in their path. They were quick, but he was quicker and the Forlorn Hope always found it’s mark. The last one was dead before the first even hit the ground. 

 

Taking a look away from the fighting, Beric saw shadows coalescing around Tetra, her skin going paler as ravens began circling above her, her Black Uru choker humming with power. Her chanting seemed to echo with a thousand other voices, reverberating through Beric’s entire being. 

 

Suddenly Beric’s whole world went dark and he heard a deafening scream as Tetra encased the entire group of Luminarks, Septons and their golden shield in a pitch black void. She began to float off the ground as her body tensed, her tongue speaking words in the Old Tongue as if in a trance, her eyes having gone to pure blackness. Her clothes began to turn to black raven’s feathers, then fell away from her porcelain skin, leaving her naked but for her Uru choker. 

 

Beric had little time to admire his lover’s body as he was busy fighting for his life as many comrades fell beside him. A troll was gnawing on Beric’s forearm as he lay in the mud and he stabbed it in the belly when a rush of air passed them by. 

 

Tetra had fallen unconscious, the darkness was gone, leaving only puddles of blood and some scant pieces of twisted metal. Beric smiled in the knowledge that his nephews would win the battle as more and more Lannister troops surrounded them. 

 

 

—————————

 

Jon

 

 

The battle had been a victory, but a hard-fought one. Both Jon and Robb had dealt with the Lannister dragons before they had been able to do much damage, but Cleaton’s blunder had done more damage by far. He had cut off the vanguard of the Stark forces with his wall and inadvertently given the Lannsters time to form up their lines properly. 

 

Jon sat by Ghost and Toothless as Moonhowler was being tended to by the Druids that rode with them. He had been struck by a few errant beams of the Luminark’s rays. Men were picking through the remains of the battle, seeing what they could take from their fallen foes. 

 

“We have highborn prisoners aplenty.” Jon heard Robb say as he strode across the muddy ground to him. “Crakehalls, Vikarys, Jasts and more Lannisters than I care to name.” 

 

“Though we are not without loses of our own.” Jon said sadly. 

 

Of all that had been trapped beyond Cleaton’s ice wall, only three had returned. Samara had carried a naked and comatose Tetra and Beric’s broken, barely alive body back to camp. Roach, Beric’s wolf had even lost an eye. 

 

The Witcher had been in a cold fury when she dropped off her lovers with the Druids, asking where Cleaton was at that moment. It took everything Jon had to lie, telling her he did not know where the bastard was. Robb had given him a stern talking to after the battle had been won. 

 

Beric and Tetra had been far from the only casualties. Dagmer had broken his arm after falling from his saddle when Behemoth hit the ground. They had also lost a Karstark, a Dustin and a Glover. Many of the lords that rode with them were chomping at the bit for vengeance against the rich and unprotected land that now lay before them after they routed the Lannister host. But they needed to wait a little longer as their army licked it’s wounds for a day or two. 

 

Robb was about to say something when they both heard a shout as someone rushed towards them. “I have been th-truck!” Cleaton yelled as he held a hand over his bleeding lower face. “That Wit-ther bi-th bwoke my nose and knocked out my tooth!” 

 

“Who?” Robb asked. 

 

“Th-amara!” Cleaton spat. “I am a Th-tark and a dwagon-rider! Her puni-th-ment should be death!” 

 

Jon itched his nose. “Death certainly is the penalty for striking that Witcher, Samara Frostclaw is not to be trifled with.” 

 

“I haff a dwagon.” Cleaton answered him. “I’m not to be twifled wiff eeffer. I’ll th-ow her.” 

 

Robb tried to stifle a laugh and smiled. “You’re certainly a brave man, cousin. Samara’s one of the best killers alive. I once saw her kill three men in a tavern with a quill… A fucking quill.” 

 

Cleaton seemed cowed then. He swallowed nervously and wiped the blood from his chin. 

 

“Now we can take this further.” Jon added. “Or we can leave it here. You made a mistake that cost her, and she reacted. Everyone loses something. So everyone is equally unhappy.” Their cousin shifted awkwardly. 

 

“Fine… Th-ay no more about it, eh?” 

 

“You made the right choice.” Robb stated. “That woman would have cut your balls off and fed them to you.” 

 

“And why would you want to die now?” Jon asked. “The whole of the Westerlands are open to us.”

Notes:

And that’s a wrap! On this day, two years ago I posted the very first chapter of WWC. Since then the fic has grown in ways I could never have dreamed of. All I can say is thank you and here’s to the next two years!

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Until next time on When Winter Comes!

Chapter 29: Chapter 24

Beric felt a dull ache behind his eyes and knew only the dream. He was tired. So tired… the eternal sleep was beckoning him forth and he felt ready join the Black Wolf and his pack. The last thing he remembered was battle. Four bull trolls had caught him in a blind spot and were hammering him with their armoured fists. He had felt his arm and legs breaking then the world had gone dark.

 

The world was wreathed in blurred shadows as he stumbled down the corridor. The air felt so thick, the Witcher might as well have been walking through treacle. A dim light shone at the end of the corridor, Beric could almost make out the sounds of metal thwacking against wood drifting towards him from the light.

 

When he finally got there, Beric found himself standing in one of Winterfell’s yards. Yet it was different in half a hundred imperceptible ways and one quite noticeable way: the weirwood tree with flaming leaves sprouting from the centre of the yard. The face carved into the tree seemed sad as it weeped red sap. The Gods are watching, he thought. The sky was also quite noticeably different, a great grey void dotted with a few stars that burned blue against the cold. Beric had the strange sense that they were eyes.

 

The yard was deserted but for one figure standing with his back to Beric, striking a training dummy with practiced strokes. The man was taller and broader than Beric, with silver hair that went past his shoulders. Beric knew the man before him before his eyes fell to Foesmasher as it rested on the ground.

 

He tried to call out to his older brother, but the words caught in his throat and he could only cough. Having heard him, Artos Stark turned and regarded Beric with a wide grin. In life, Artos had been said to be one of the most handsome men in the realm. No doubt thanks to their mother, Shiera. Artos had inherited all of their mother’s Valyrian beauty and their father’s strength.

 

“You got old, Stubby.”

 

No, brother. The rest of you did…  Beric thought sadly.

 

In his life, he had known six of his older siblings. All had eventually grown old and died. He left a piece of himself behind every time he buried them. Beric had never known pain like seeing the people who had been so much stronger than him in his youth, grow frail and sick, while he stayed the same.

 

“After all this time, you’ve nothing to say to me?” Artos raised an eyebrow as he scratched his annoyingly sharp jaw. “And here I thought I was your favourite.”

 

That got a chuckle from Beric. “I never had favourites.” He said, bashfully.

 

“Of course. Of course…” Artos nodded with a smirk. “Care for a spar?” He picked up another training sword and held it out to Beric. “I doubt you’ve had anyone better to face since I’ve been gone.”

 

Beric took the blade. “I dare say Ned could give you a run for your money.”

 

“Is that so?” Artos stepped forward, holding his blade on guard.

 

“I see some of you in him.” He had noticed that both Ned and Atros were fiercely loyal men. The kind of men you would want by your side as they would always be the last to fall in defence of their pack. “What is this place?” Beric asked. “Why are you here?” He slowly stepped around his older brother, keeping his sword between them.

 

“I am here because you are here.” Artos advanced and cut high.

 

Beric quickly remembered he shouldn’t try to block Artos’ sword when he felt the clang of their blades reverberate through his arm. He spun away and aimed a slash low. Artos only lifted his foot over Beric’s blade and attacked again. A quick exchange of blows, parries and dodges followed. Beric knew he was overmatched by his older brother.

 

Everyone was.

 

“It never was easy growing up in your shadow.” Beric found himself saying, he thought he saw hurt in Artos’ eyes.

 

“Is that why you became a Witcher?” He asked, dodging under Beric’s cut. That caught Beric off guard. A sudden kick sent him stumbling back on the defence. “You wanted to impress me?”

 

“No.” Beric parried a blow that he then returned, his blade nearly catching flesh.

 

“Didn’t you care that you’d outlive us all?” Artos was angrier, his attacks growing in ferocity.

 

“I gave no thought to the future other than the adventures of a Witcher.” One by one, his family had died until eventually he had been alone with only their memory to comfort him.

 

“Did you feel strong when you could still wrestle with trolls as we grew to weak to lift our swords?”

 

“No!” The tears stung Beric’s eyes as he blocked Artos’ assault. “You were my brothers and sisters, we were meant to be together.”

 

Then Artos stopped. “Do you wish to join us then?” He asked. Beric felt the weight of his years on him then. He fell to his knees, dropping his sword into the dirt.

 

“Maybe…”

 

With a crackle of lightning, Artos summoned Foeshamer to his hand and hurled it at Beric. The world went white as the hammer hit Beric like the fist of an angry giant.

 

When the Witcher came to, he was sprawled out on a wooden floor, looking up at a vaulted ceiling. Near instantly he knew he was in Winterfell. In the moments following, he worked out who’s room he was in.

 

“There were times I thought that.” Beric heard a weezing groan coming from his left. He turned onto his side and rose to his knees. For the first time in forty years, Beric saw his immediate older brother.

 

“Rodrick.” Beric smilled shuffled over to his older brother who’s chair had been perched beside an open window overlooking the training yards. Rodrick’s Ulthossi sword, Obsidian rested against the back of the chair. Beric didn’t have favourites. But if he did, it would have been Rodrick.

 

The injuries of the final Blackfyre Rebellion had confined the Wandering Wolf to a wheeled chair for the rest of his days. When he had seen Rodrick fall from the skies, Beric had thought he had lost his brother.  Yet through a tremendous amount of effort, Rodrick Stark had lived. His body was broken, but he had lived. Even crippled, every extra day had been a blessing.

 

“I’ve missed you.” Was all Beric could think to say.

 

“I should expect so.” Rodrick cracked a crooked, half-toothless smile.

 

It was a bitter happiness to see his brother again. Rodrick had been a mighty man, who explored further than any Stark before him. He had wandered far and wide, seeing much and learning more. But his final years had been unkind to him. While his mind remained sharp until his last breath, his body had been reduced to a shell of it’s former self.

 

The Gods were indeed cruel.

 

“You don’t think I sometimes felt that it was my time to go?” Rodrick’s words brought Beric from his thoughts. “My body became my prison and I became a weight on the people I held most dear.”

 

“That’s not tr-“

 

“I haven’t finished.” Rodrick stopped him. “Of course I felt as you do now. But these feelings come and go. If I had not survived my wounds, I would never had held my grandchildren.” Rodrick smilled warmly. The memories of seeing his brother playing with baby Brandon, Ned and Benjen nearly brought a tear to Beric’s eye. “And to see my children grow and have children of their own, I would have gladly spent a hundred years in this chair.” Rodrick took Beric’s hands in his own.

 

“You should have been there to see when Ned claimed Snowsong.” Beric chuckled. “Lyarra was beeming with pride.”

 

“My dragon always did have impeccable taste.”

 

“And what of Blackadder?” Beric asked. “Snowsong still reigns as the Ice Queen of the skies. What of my dragon?” Blackadder had died sooner than Rodrick, also from wounds gained in the War of the Nine Penny Kings. Beric had felt he had lost a part of himself when he laid his dragon to rest.

 

“He’s… well.” Rodrick responded. “Mayhaps you will see him again… But not yet.”

 

The world went dark and Beric was alone again. When the light came back, it was from one singular pyre in the darkness. It took a moment for the old Witcher’s eyes to adjust, but eventually he saw what it was. Rickard’s body was suspended over a pyre of wildfyre in full Uru armor.

 

Around Winterfell it had been whispered what had befallen Rickard at the beginning of the Rebellion. Beric had forbade it from being spoken of if only to protect young Benjen. In the end if mattered not. All knew Rickard Stark had been roasted inside his own armour.

 

Only Beric knew that it had been his fault.

 

“Is that what you believe, Uncle?” Rickard croacked through blistered lips, giving Beric a start. “You feel this is your doing?”

 

“You wanted to ride south with all the dragon riders our house could muster.” Beric had talked him down from the more rash action, councilling that he had a far greater chance of getting what he wanted by not threatening anyone. As Brandon had already tried that and failed.

 

“You did not light this pyre.” Rickard croacked again. The smell of burned flesh was filling Beric’s nose.

 

“If you had a dragon with you, it wouldn’t have been lit.”

 

“You don’t know that. I well-knew I could die going south. I was the Prince of Winterfell. I am responsible for my own decisions. If I had gone south on Moonhowler’s back, they would have killed Brandon without a second thought. Then set all the dragons of their allies on me.”

 

Beric had no words in answer to his nephew. “Long have you carried my death with you.” Rickard said. “And I refuse to allow you to continue letting me drag you down.”

 

With that, Beric was falling again.

 

He landed in soft mud. When his vision returned to him, Beric found himself lying in the main yard of Wildmount, the castle that housed the Witcher school of the Wolf.

 

“Of all my years training Witchers, you are the one that always got up the quickest.” Samara said as she walked around him, sword in hand.

 

“I wanted to prove I belonged.” Beric groaned as he rolled to his feet and rose, muddy and aching from the ground.

 

“You did.” She smirked. “A hundred times over.” She went low and swung her sword at his knee, Beric blocked then returned the blow. “You would wake up the earliest and stay the latest in the yard.”

 

“I wanted to be the best.”

 

“You would train until your bones cracked.” Their blades sung as they clashed together. “And in all that time I never knew you to give up.”

 

So why do you want to now…  The words left unsaid between them.

 

“I think…” Beric panted as he blocked another one of Samara’s strikes. “I think Witchers live too long…”

 

“You say that like I’m not much older than you.”

 

“Do you ever get tired of it?” The blood. The fighting. Everyone else dying. Beric had seen Rickard and Lyarra when they were born, as they grew old and then their deaths. Now he was watching the same happen to their children and their children’s children.

 

“Yes.” Samara finally said. “But then I remember something...” She punched Beric in the face so hard he hit the ground. “As long as there is life in my body, I will defend my family.”

 

Before Beric knew it, the world changed again. In one instant we was in Wildmount, the next he was standing in a void, looking at Tetra and Yennefer. Their twin purple eyes gazed up at him.

 

“Get up, Witcher.” Tetra said, reaching out to him.

 

“Father…” Was all Yennfer said. In truth it was all she needed to say. He never could deny his daughter. Beric reached out to them but before their hands could meet, he found himself submerged in water. His vision was blurred and his lungs held no air.

 

Lunging out of the water, Beric felt more alive than he had in years. He was surrounded by figures all standing around the pool he had been in.

 

Tetra’s was the voice he heard first. “A shame…” She said. “I quite liked the grizzled older Witcher look.”

 

 

 

—————————

Ned

 

 

In truth, it had only been weeks since Ned had left Riverrun for Renly’s camp, but Ned felt like it had been moons since he’d last seen the triangular castle standing tall in the deep river. Snowsong beat her wings hard in the castle’s direction, knowing that rest and food were close at hand.

 

Their newly acquired prisoner was bound in Dimeritium, gagged, blindfolded and tied to the saddle behind Ned. Brienne had been moved to Aly’s dragon as there wasn’t space for Ned, her and their prisoner all on one saddle. At least not a comfortable amount of space.

 

The red woman hadn’t said a word after Aly had captured her as she tried to infiltrate their camp. So Ned could only assume Stannis had sent her to track them and deliver them the same shadowed executioner he had sent for his brother. It still left a bitter taste in Ned’s mouth. In the eyes of the Gods, none were more acuresed than a kinslayer.

 

Mayhaps Stannis’ new God doesn’t care, Ned pondered. It mattered not to Ned, any man who would murder his own brother would never have his fealty. That only left him one, rather annoying option.

 

What would Robert think of me now?

 

Ned had failed his friend in life and in death. He was in a grim mood as he set Snowsong down on the Northern bank of the Tumbleston, Sansa and Aly following close behind. The camp had changed somewhat in his absence, Ned could only imagine that the Amazons had finally arrived and added their forces to the Northmen and Riverlander armies.

 

He was making sure Sansa and Aly were safely off their dragons when Sylvie strode towards him and pulled him in for a deep kiss. The Child of the Forest pressed her body against his as their lips met, lovingly.

 

“I’ve missed you, my dear.” She breathed after their parted. Sansa crinkled her nose in disgust and looked away. Aly only chuckled. “Your wives instructed me to bring you to them once you arrived.” Sylvie added.

 

“Then I shall not keep them waiting.” Ned then turned to Sansa. “Please make sure Lady Brienne has appropriate accommodation, I shall leave her in your care.”

 

“Yes father.” Sansa kissed his cheek then led Brienne away, who bowed stiffly to Ned before following Sansa across one of the many small wooden bridges that dwarven engineers had erected over the river for easy crossings.

 

Ned then turned to Aly. “Please see that the Red Woman is put in our most secure dungeon and inform Yennefer and Triss of all that we know of her.” Ned ordered. His baseborn cousin did as she was bid with a nod. Ned needed to remember to thank her properly and reward her for her actions. But that would have to be in the future.

 

“I believe my wives are waiting for us.” Ned said to Sylvie as they set off for the keep.

 

“Collect some passengers, did we?” Sylvie nodded to to the the bound woman Aly was pulling off Ned’s saddle.

 

“An Essosi sorceress in Stannis’ service.” Ned informed her. “He used her shadow magic to murder his brother.” The information clearly shocked her. It was no surprise. The laws against kinslaying were even more sacred to the Children of the Forest than they were to the First Men.

 

“So your diplomatic mission did not go as planned.”

 

“No.” Ned intoned sourly. “It did not.”

 

It did not take them long to find Ned’s wives, all three of them were together in the solar of their rooms in Riverrun. Though when Ned saw them, he felt as though he was looking into the past. It seemed the years had been stripped away from all three of them as they had Ned.

 

They looked barely a day older than when Arya and Alyrianne had been born. He could only assume Hippolyta had given them the same Themyscira waters that he had recieced. Cat, Ash and Elia each embraced Ned heartily before he told them all that had happened to him on his most recent journey south.

 

“Gods be good…” Ash pinched the bridge of her nose as she chewed her bottom lip angrily. “His own brother…”

 

“Let us not forget that Renly wished to steal his older brother’s inheritance and abandoned Ned in his hour of need.” Cat stated. “He deserved death, but not in such a way.”

 

“Do we know if he has more deciples of the Red God in her service?” Elia asked. “Could he send these… Shadow-people after us as well?”

 

“I do not know if he has others following him.” Ned admitted. “But even if he doesn’t, I shall have our magical wards trippled.”

 

“What do we do with his Red Woman?” Sylvie asked, leaning against a table.

 

“She may be of use.” Ned answered her. “But she will be under constant guard by our best arcane practitioners.”

 

“It seems clear to me that we can never follow Stannis now.” Ash stated. “Nor can we follow a dead man.”

 

“And the Lannisters are a non-starter.” Elia added.

 

Ned only grunted in response, he could tell where his wives her aiming the conversation.

 

The only option left, and the most annoying.

 

“I’d like to be there when you tell Robb you’re taking his crown from him.” Sylvie chuckled.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It did not take Ned long to find his oldest sons, they were discussing a push further into the Westerlands with Hippolyta and the Blackfish in the great hall. All three were pleased to see him again, with Hippolyta sending for Nubia to be Ned’s sworn shield again.

 

Togther, they told Ned of all that had happened in his absence. His sons had lead a sortie into the Westerlands to repay the Lannisters for their treatment of the Riverlands. Gold, food and livestock had all been taken from the Lannister land and distributed amoung the Riverlords. Their forces had sacked Sarsfield and were maruading through the north of the Westerlands as they pleased. Robb and Jon had only returned to Riverrun to bring their wounded back, gather reinforcements and plan the attack on Lannisport and then Casterly Rock.

 

Ned almost felt that he didn’t need to take part in the war. His sons seemed to be fairing more than well enough without his input. With the good news, however, came more troubling information. Ned was told that Beric had been grievously injured during the attack on the Lannister forces at Oxcross and that only the Amazon’s healing waters had saved him.

 

More troubling still, came the news that one of the dragonseeds had been responsible for it and many more needless deaths besides. A fury filled Ned’s being at that knowledge. He had sent for Cleaton Snow immediately.

 

“Father, we have already spoken to him of this.” Jon said as they waited for Cleaton Snow to arrive.

 

“How many men died because of his mishap?” Was Ned’s only response.

 

“Five-hundred. Give or take.” Robb answered. “The vanguard of the attack.”

 

“And if Tetra had not done what she did, the Lannisters might have even won the battle thanks to his poor judgment.” Ned’s voice was ice. He could accept ego in his soldiers. He could even accept a lack of common manners. But the Gods would sunder the world before Ned accepted a soldier that wilfully ignored orders and got others killed for it.

 

With the opening of the door came Cleaton, striding through in ill-fitting fine silks and a ring on every finger. His nose was slightly bent out of shape after, what his sons told him was Samara’s response to his actions.

 

“Your grace.” Cleaton bowed slightly. Ned was almost tempted to not give him a chance to explain himself. “I’ve heard there will be no alliances with sourthern kings now?”

 

“Indeed.” Ned answered him, taking a firm gripe on his annoyance. “Stannis killed Renly and I shall not join with a kinslayer.”

 

“Good. The North needs no southern kings.” Cleaton smilled in a way that nearly reminded Ned of Brandon. “There is something I wished to speak with you about.” Cleaton continued before Ned could speak. “I have sacked many keeps in the Westerlands for you on Snowfall’s back. I was the one who took Sarsfield in your name. I ride the second biggest dragon in our army and I am the heir of your older brother.” Ned clenched his teeth at that. “I believe I am owed a reward.”

 

“…Reward?” Ned said, slowly. The gall of the man surprising him.

 

“Sansa should be my bride. For all I have done for you.” Cleaton stated, raising his chin to try and look confident.

 

Ned’s face was stone. Robb began to speak but Ned silenced him with a raised hand. “You speak of your great victories.” He said softly, looking Cleaton squarely in the eye. “My sons tell me a different tale. They say you would repeatedly ignore their orders instead choosing to follow your own whims. They also say you lead a sortie to plunder a dozen villages against their orders.”

 

The colour seemed to drain from Cleaton’s face.

 

“Though they left the worst for the last.” Ned continued. “They told me your foolishness got five-hundred men killed at the battle of Oxcross, and that my uncle was nearly among them.”

 

“The fault was not mine.” Cleaton protested. “The Luminarks blinded Snowfall, she couldn’t see where she was aiming.”

 

“And how did they blind your dragon!” Ned raised his voice, angry that Cleaton would place the blame of his actions on the dragon his mother had ridden. “You attacked when my sons told you not to and five hundred of my men paid for it!” Ned clenched his jaw. “You come before me, colthing yourself in stolen glory and you say I owe you my daughter?”

 

“I-I-“ Cleaton stammered.

 

“You are temporarily barred from ridding Snowfall.” Ned said. “Until you learn some humility. The dragon guards will be told to put you in the dungeons if they see you near Snowfall, see to it Ser Brynden.”

 

“At once.” Cat’s uncle said, then left the hall.

 

“Now leave me.” Ned told Cleaton.

 

Were you not my brother’s son, your punishment would be much more final.

 

Ned turned back to the map on the large table, not even looking at Cleaton as he exited the hall. The more rational side of Ned’s mind felt that he could have been more tactful in dealing with the young man who’d been given more than he could ever dream of in such a short amount of time. Doubtless it would take time for the boy to find his head. Nevertheless, they were at war and couldn’t countenance foolishness.

 

“I say we kill him and find another rider for his dragon.” Hippolyta said, breaking the silence. “Diana has Stark blood, and her competence is unquestionable...”

 

“He is my brother’s son.” Ned stated, flatly. “And besides, there are few more accursed in the eyes of the Gods than a kinslayer.” Thoughts of Renly and Stannis’ shadow warrior ran through his mind again. The thought of killing another member of his family sickend him deeply. Ned would never be able to understand how a man could kill his own brother.

 

“So someone else should wield the knife.” Hippolyta responded, crossing her arms.

 

Robb spoke up. “The blood would still be on our hands be it through action or inaction.”

 

“This is not your land, so you may have difficulty understanding.” Jon added, “The Starks are a pack. We do not turn on one another-”

 

Their conversation was interrupted when a side door opened and Nubia walked in, wearing light armour with her sword on her belt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me.” She grinned at Ned as she strode over to him.

 

“Now why would I wish to part from a sworn shield as lovely as you?” Ned chuckled. “As it happens, I have a message from Dorrk and Korra.” Nubia ran a hand over Ned’s metal arm when she reached him. “They have ideas on how to improve this.”

 

Ned excused himself, leaving his sons and Hippolyta to make plans and followed Nubia to the castle forge. It was not as large or as sophisticated as Winterfell’s main forge and not a scratch on the forge of any Dwarven stronghold Ned had ever visited, but it was still servicable enough. Dorrk and Korra were having an animated discussion about metalwork with Yennefer pouring over some notes on a table when Ned and Nubia arrived.

 

“Ah, Ned!” The grey skinned dwarf exclaimed when Ned walked into the forge. “Come, come.” He gestured to a crucible that was the size of a man. “Korra and I have cooked up something special for you.”

 

“Aye.” Korra added. “That metal arm of yours is an antique now. Time to get the new and improved version.”

 

“And I will have some magic of my own to add.” Yennefer barely looked up from her notes as she talked. Ned walked up the few steps that surrounded the crucible so he could look inside it. Unsurprisingly it was filled to the brim with molten metal.

 

“That’s the purest Black Uru I have ever produced in my life.” Dorrk loudly proclaimed, beeming.

 

“And I’ve added Amazon magics to it.” Korra added. “Just dip your metal arm in their and let me do my work.”

 

“Your work never ceases to amaze.” Ned said gratefully as he removed his shirt, leant over and plunged his metal arm into the Uru. It felt exactly as it had the first time, almost like his arm had been submerged in a warm bath. Dorrk and Korra both chanted their spells and the glow of the molten Uru changed from orange to red, to green, to blue, to purple and many other colours Ned couldn’t name.

 

Eventually they were done and Ned was allowed to pull his arm from the crucible. It felt exactly as it had before, only now the arm was completely black but for the telltale veins of grey and white that showed it to be Uru.

 

“It feels stronger than ever.” Ned praised the forgemasters as he ran his flesh hand over the rough, stone-like metal.

 

“And if you’ll allow me,” Yennefer cut in, talking over Dorkk and Korra as they jabbered about the metal and magic they’d used together. “I can make the arm look better than ever too.” She then held out her hand and said arcane words of the Old Tongue. Yennefer’s eyes shone with blue light and Ned’s arm began to shimmer and change before his eyes. In moments, it changed from metal to normal flesh again. It was as though he had never lost his arm.

 

“You will be able to change how it looks at will.” Yennefer said, proudly.

 

After Ned finished admiring the illusion he turned to Yennefer. “I doubt I shall ever be able to repay you.” Ned took her into his arms and kissed her.

 

“I can imagine a few ways you could make a start.” She smiled against his lips.

 

After Ned recieved his new and improved arm, he redressed and set off to find Myrcella. He had spent so little time at Riverrun when he first arrived that he had not gone to check on her. As she was the reason he was alive and away from captivity, he owed her a great deal.

 

Ned found her in the guest quarters with Harris standing guard at her door. He left Nubia standing alongside the Chosen Man when he entered the bed chamber. Myrcella was wearing a dress that seemed to have belonged to Cat in her youth. The girl hadn’t had a chance to bring her own dresses with her out of King’s Landing, so she had to make do with hand-me-downs.

 

She sat with Sansa together in armchairs by the fire, sewing. “Father.” Sansa rose to her feet when he entered. Putting down her needle and thread she walked over to him and gave him a warm hug.

 

“Prince Stark.” Myrcella greeted him, also rising. Though somewhat slower due to her pregnancy swollen belly.

 

“No need to rise.” Ned held a hand up as he looked to her. “You should rest.”

 

“It seems all my days are spent resting now.” Myrcella said as she waddled over to Ned and Sansa.

 

“I made sure Brienne was settled before came to Myrcella.” Sansa stated.

 

“No doubt you wanted to make sure your goodsister was fairing well in your absence.” Ned chuckled.

 

Myrcella put a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Your daughter has been very kind to me. Rhaenys too. They all have.”

 

“You are family.” Ned said, simply. “You have my grandchild in your belly. You are one of us now.”

 

“I am truly grateful.” Myrcella looked up at him with her big green eyes.

 

“I am glad to see you well, child.” Ned said. “Are you sure you do not wish to be taken North with your great aunt?” Jon had told Ned that Genna had offered to take Myrcella to the much more secure North, but she and refused.

 

“I am.” The blonde girl responded. “I do not wish to be parted from Jon and Robb.” Ned almost didn’t hear the small scoff Sansa gave under her breath. It made him chuckle in amusment.

 

“As you wish.” Ned said before bidding farewell to the girls and leaving for his solar.

 

There were certain administrative duties he had been neglecting since his return from Themyscira that Ned intended to see were fulfilled. The first of which was a letter they had received from Doran in Ned’s absence. Ned read it alone in his solar as his wives were either with the children, or in Cat’s case, with her father.

 

Doran’s letter told him of the joy they had all felt when they had been given the news of his survival. It spoke of the attacks the Dornish had made on Lannister ships sailing around the coast of Dorne now that they could no longer use the Great Canal. The Dornish were certainly growing rich of their Lannister plunder.

 

Doran also wrote of giving his support to Ned and his cause, but also made clear that the great distance between the North, the Riverlands and Dorne made a direct alliance difficult. Ned supposed he was correct, and he hardly exepcted Doran to hand Dornish sovereignty over to the North even if he sought to secede from the Iron Throne.

 

The letter also spoke of news from the far East. Of Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons. It seemed the girl had amassed a small army around her and was looking to swell its ranks. Troubling to say the least.

 

Ned thought back to the council meeting with Robert. How he had wished for the girl to die. Robert had changed his mind on his deathbed, perhaps the Gods had heard him and let her live. Though it seemed it might have been a mistake as Robert’s fears of her might have been wellfounded.

 

The final words of Doran’s letter spoke of the women in his family, and the babes they all carried in their bellies. Ned’s babes. Whichever path we walk, it seems the Gods want a Stark to rule Dorne, Ned thought before chuckling to himself.

 

News of the Targaryen girl was troubling, however. She had her mother, her sisters and dragons for them all to ride. Not to mention she seemed to have inherited the Valyrian gift of Firebending. Ned resolved to understand the threat she might possess sooner than later.

 

Putting Doran’s letter down, Ned called to Harper and instructed him to summon Lara Stark. As she had been with the North’s Mistwalkers for longer than Ned had been alive, the woman would know who they should send to spy on the Targaryen. It took them the better part of the afternoon before they settled on a candidate.

 

“Cregan Dhalark.” Ned greeted Lord Donmar Dhalark’s second son as he walked into the solar.

 

“Your grace. Lara.” The dark skinned youth bowed his head solemnly as he greeted them. He was younger than Ned’s eldest sons, but Lara had told him that he had been one of her best agents.

 

“We have an assignment for you.” Lara started. “The Mad king’s widow and his daughter are making moves in Essos.”

 

“And they have dragons.” Ned added. “They are building an army and from what we can gather, aim to use it to take back the Iron throne.”

 

“And from there, enact revenge for their fallen family.” Cregan finished for them.

 

“That is what we wish for you to find out.” Lara said. “I will compile all we know of them for you to study on your way. But your task will be to join Daenerys Targaryen’s forces, make yourself known. You have skills that will be very useful to her.”

 

“Befriend her, if you can.” Ned added. “Though do not be too eager. You are to observe and report back to us.”

 

“How much would you like me to report?” Cregan asked.

 

“Everything.” Lara answered.

 

“I can leave within the week.” The young Dhalark said.

 

If only Cleaton were half as professional as you, Ned thought ruefully.

 

“I will of course inform your father of this mission and Lara will give you all the information you require. You do a great service to the North.” Ned said.

 

“It is what I swore to do.” Cregan answered simply before he left.

 

Ned spent the rest of the day writing letters and drawing up plans. In fact, that was how he spent the next few days. More letters were sent to his friends in the Vale, of which none had been answered. On the fourth day Ser Lucion Lannister was escorted into Riverrun by the Stark outriders. Robb had informed Ned of the terms he had sent the Lannister off with. More than reasonable in Ned’s opinion.

 

Ned had found Ser Lucion was not a handsome man when he rode into Riverrun, followed by Golden Legionaries. He had hair like damp straw, dirty brown eyes, a long nose and no chin to speak of. Not to mention the large scar that seemed to have been burned onto the man’s face with a hot iron.

 

Noting Ned’s surprise, Robb had told him of Tetra’s spell she cast on the man that would take effect if he were not true to them. It was something Ned decided to ask the witch about, if she ever deigned to leave her chambers, where she had dragged Samara and Beric after the latter had enjoyed Themyscira’s rejuvenating waters. And not left in the days since.

 

Ser Lucion came with the offer of different terms from King’s Landing. Terms that Ned spent the next few days discussing with the Lannister envoy. On the third day, however, Ned found himself woken during the hour of the Wolf by the sound of shouting echoing through the castle.

 

“Mm’Wha’ it is?” Elia groaned sleepily as they were roused, their wolves already fully awake and alert. Ned summoned Ice and Foesmasher to his hands after he extracted himself from his lovers embrace and donned his breeches.

 

“Are we under attack?” Ash was sitting up on the bed, rubbing her eyes.

 

“The camp doesn’t seem to be moving.” Cat looked out of the window, her hair falling in a messy curtain over her bare porcelain skin. “If we were under attack, they would be the first to know.”

 

Ned opened the door to their chambers, seeing Perkins standing guard, with a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What’s the commotion about?”

 

“I do not know, your Grace.” The Chosen Man answered.

 

Ned thought for a moment, then gave his orders. “Stay here and guard my wives, i’ll see what’s happening.” Then gave a short whistle and Fang followed him through the corridor towards the sound.

 

At this hour the only light was from the glowing runes on Ice and Foesmasher, giving off a dim blue glow as Ned stalked forward. Soon enough, Ned came across others who had been roused and come to investigate with weapons drawn.

 

The first was Nubia, who hadn’t even bothered to dress. The sight of the Amazon stalking naked through the castle with naught but a shield and a spear made Ned’s cock stand to attention, but he controlled his desire as it certainly wasn’t the time for pleasure.

 

It didn’t take long for Harper to find them, the Chosen Man in full armour. “They attempted to break him out.” He said, seemingly slightly winded from a fight. “The Kingslayer.”

 

Once Ned was sure the castle and everyone in it had been secured, he began to question the witnesses to find out what had happened. It seemed the Imp had sent magic users and criminals dressed in golden armour to abscond with Jaime Lannister.

 

They’d made use of concealed weapons that they hadn’t surrendered at Riverrun’s gate and killed Jaime’s guards. They’d used a thief to pick the locks on his door and an arcane trickster to make the guards at the gate believe it had been Lord Edmure ordering them to open the gate.

 

Their plan had almost succeeded. Unfortunately for them, Alysanne’s wolf Steelcoat had sensed something was off and attacked the trickster, biting through the man’s illusion and ripping his head off. Alysanne had then raised the alarm.

 

What Alysanne had been doing in the gatehouse in the dead of night, Ned sensed he should not ask. He was just glad that the Kingslayer had been apprehended. Ned beheaded all of the men responsible, including Lucion Lannister and their heads lined Riverrun’s walls.

 

—————————

 

“You may open her cell.” Ned told the guards as he stood in the dungeon, the only light coming from Harper’s torch as he held it aloft to Ned’s left, with Fang on his right. The heavy iron keys clanged loudly as the guard unlocked the various mechanisms that kept Riverrun’s most secure cell closed.

 

“This feels like a mistake.” Harper said as the guards fiddled with a particularly stiff lock.

 

“She’s chained in Dimeritium.” Ned tried to ease his friend’s mind. “And I’ve given her enough time to stew. I want to see what she knows.”

 

“Perhaps I should go in there for you and make her talk for you.” Nubia suggested, the dark skinned Amazon standing behind Ned and Harper in full armour with a sword on her hip and shield in her hand.

 

“No.” Ned answered her evenly. “I am more than capable of asking a lone woman questions.”

 

“And if she should try to enchant you?”

 

“Then she will be sorely disappointed.”

 

“When I was a boy, Old Nan used to tell me of Faeries and Nymphs with flaming hair that would steal men’s souls when they talked to them.” Harper grunted, eyes fixed on the great wooden door of the cell. “Give her half the chance, that red witch will do the same.”

 

“Old Nan told me those same stories.” Ned chuckled. “And they were just that: Stories.” In spite of his words Ned did share Harper’s unease at the Red Woman. But he would never say it. The woman was just flesh and blood and would die like anyone else if Ned plunged Ice into her heart.

 

“She’s unnatural.” Harper said as the guards heaved the heavy door open, loudly craping along the stone floor. “Knew it the moment I saw her.”

 

“With you two and Fang out here, what have I to fear?” Ned put on a false smile and walked into the cell.

 

It was dark and dank in the cell. There was no window to speak of, nor did any torches rest on the walls. Having heard tales of the followers of the Red God, Yennefer had suggested any sources of fire be moved far from their prisoner. Even when she was chained in Dimeritium, it was safer to be cautious. The only light came from Harper’s torch, sending a narrow corridor of light into the cell, illuminating the Red Woman where she sat straight up, her chained arms resting on her lap.

 

Her eyes were closed.

 

Ned gave one last look to the outside, the guards, Harper and Nubia were all watching him intently as he slowly closed the door. Ned produced a blowing ball of ice and shot it to the centre of the ceiling. The warm orange light from Harper’s torch was now replaced with a brighter, but colder pale blue.

 

Now fully illuminated, Ned could get a proper look at the Red Woman. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, with a heart-shaped face, pale unblemished skin and deep copper hair that went down to her waist. She was dressed in deep red silk robes that clung to her impressively shapely body like a second skin. She had exceedingly large breasts, made even more prominent by the low cut of her dress, a slender waist, wide hips and long legs. She was sitting now, but Ned had seen her standing taller than most men when she was escorted to her cell.

 

The only ornament she wore red-gold choker with a giant ruby that fit tightly around her neck. It was certainly magical but they hadn’t been able to remove it so the woman had kept her choker.

 

For a woman who had been confined to a cell for a week, she certainly didn’t look it. She was so clean she might as well have just left a bath and her clothes had not a speck of dirt on them.

 

“I knew you would come,” The Red woman opened her deep red eyes and spoke in her melodic, richly accented voice. “Your Grace…” She looked directly into Ned’s eyes. He almost felt she was looking into his soul. “Have you need of me?”

 

“I would have you tell me your name, and what happened to Renly Baratheon.” Ned’s throat had suddenly become dry.

 

The woman gave him a sly smile. “Well for the first, I am the Lady Melisandre of Asshai. And for the second… I was not there, you were though. You tell me.”

 

An unsatisfactory response. “Do not play me for a fool.” Ned said, coldly. “A shadow with Stannis’ face stabbed Renly in the heart.”

 

“So you do know what happened.” She almost sang.

 

“And you know I was asking how it happened.” Ned fixed the woman with a stern gaze as she sat on the floor. Infuriatingly, it seemed to have little effect on her demeanour.

 

“So you wish for me to bind you your own shadow?”

 

Ned’s jaw clenched. “I wish to know how Stannis - a man who I have never known to be devout - became a man that takes up with a foreign God and murders his own brother.”

 

“His Gods never cared for him. One brother spurned him, another betrayed him.” Melisandre answered simply, her voice soft as silk. “I did not need to convince him, if that is what you imagine.”

 

“Am I truly to believe you haven’t been whispering poison in Stannis’ ear?”

 

“I only followed my Lord’s commands and found the man I thought was his champion.”

 

“Thought?” Ned raised an eyebrow.

 

“I have since reconsidered…” She purred. “When presented with new information…”

 

Ned shifted his weight and rested a hand on his hip. “And what information would that be?” He asked, incredulously.

 

“I had a vision.” The red woman fingered the pulsing red ruby on her throat. “My Lord showed me I had errored in my judgment, that my true champion was not Stannis at all.”

 

“Was it instead me, perchance?” Ned scoffed, not believing a word from her mouth.

 

A warm smiled spread across her face again as she looked up at Ned. “I saw you.” She said, in a tone so final that Ned almost believed her. “I. Saw. You.” The red woman repeated. “All that you were, are and will go on to do… and the women who will be your consorts.” She slowly rose to her feet with practiced grace. “I have seen the Dreamer and the Dream.” She said in a deep, hushed whisper.

 

Ned’s breath caught in his throat. How did she know of the vision Fenric had shown him all those years ago? Those two women had since come to him in dreams again, but only a few times. Ned had never told anyone of what he had seen in his visions. They were a private affair, meant to be kept between him and Fenric.

 

“How do you know of that?” Ned clenched a fist, his voice low.

 

“I want only to help you.” Melisandre said, as her shackles fell to the floor, strangely not making a sound when the metal hit the stone. Ned knew he should call the guards, say that the red woman had freed herself. But he could not. Some part of Ned stopped him from calling out as Melisandre padded towards him, slowly undoing her silken robes. “Come, let me show you how.”

 

With her words, her final stitch of clothing left her body. She stood before Ned in all her naked glory, looking up at him with her large, red eyes. Her head was at his chin level, unusually tall for a woman. Ned felt his gaze roaming her body, taking in her abundant curves. She had long legs, leading up to thick, powerful thighs and wide, childbearing hips. Melisandre’s womanhood was completely bare, her body had not a single hair below her neck.

 

Her stomach was flat and slightly toned, Ned guessed the woman had done physical exercises to attain her physique. Above the red woman’s belly hung two marvels for Ned to admire. Twin breasts that seemed to be carved from marble. They were large, round and heavy, but hung high on her chest, capped with small, tight pink nipples. Ned could feel his mouth watering at the sight of such a perfect bosom. Her neck was long and thin, with the pulsing red gem resting on her choker. And crowning such an exquisite body was a beautiful, mature face. The face that looked up at Ned with a warm expression.

 

“There is power in your blood.” Melisandre hummed as she pressed her body against his. “Let me show you.” She pulled him down into a searing kiss, her tongue lavishing his with experience and passion. Ned greedily kissed her back, his desire burning like a bonfire inside him.

 

Ned’s hands instantly began to grope at the red woman’s soft curves, feeling and caressing them. He heard her hum into his lips as she wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him deeper into their embrace. After a long time spent battling with their tongues, the red woman pulled away from Ned to remove his tunic and shirt, he was more than happy to help her.

 

Once Ned was naked from the waste up, Melisandre began to kiss her way down Ned’s muscled chest until she went to her knees, her face eye level with his groin. With a wolfish smile, she pulled his breeches down and Ned’s half-hard member swatted her in the face with a wet Phlat!

 

“Lord have mercy…” Melisandre took his shaft in her hands as she marbled at the pillar of flesh. Ned felt a great sense of pride swell within him at the high priestess’ admiration.

 

“I take it you approve?” Ned grinned down at her.

 

“I have lain with all the kinds of man you can name, and more.” She murmured, slowly pumping Ned’s cock. “Before I was a priestess, I was a temple prostitute. And a very popular one at that.” Ned had little trouble believing that. “I was bedded by countless men and woman and never have I ever seen a cock like this.”

 

Melisandre punctuated her words with warm kisses from her full lips along his shaft. Ned closed his eyes in pleasure as the red woman lavished his cock with her tongue.

 

Gods, I might have found a rival for Elia, Ned thought as he chuckled. She pumped his shaft with both hands as her mouth caressed him like a long lost lover. Pleasure danced through Ned’s body as Melisandre worked his cock with all her apparent skill and experience.

 

“No wonder the Red God is so popular in Essos, with Priestess’ like you to speak for him.” Ned laughed as he put a hand on her head, threading his fingers through her hair.

 

“We learned long ago that the best way to bring people into the Lord’s light is through the bedchambers.”

 

“Or the cell.” Ned laughed.

 

The red woman did not join him as she was busy stuffing Ned’s shaft down her throat, moaning as the taste of his cock assaulted her. Ned felt her tongue massage his throbbing shaft inside her mouth, rolling over it and relishing the feeling.

 

Ned certainly relished it. The red woman’s mouth was wet, tight and devilishly warm. He had never felt a mouth like hers. Melisandre choked and gaged, her eyes rolling back as Ned’s cock was forced deeper and deeper into her throat.

 

Eventually his balls were slapping her chin as her head bobbed back and forth along his cock. Ned grunted as Melisandre’s moans vibrated through his cock. One of her hands found it’s way to his balls and began cupping and massaging them. This drew even more pleasure from Ned.

 

She was begging for his seed.

 

She wanted it.

 

She needed it.

 

She was going to get it.

 

The pleasure and pressure built and built in Ned’s cock. Eventually after near an eternity of the red woman’s ministrations, she earned her reward. Ned thrust every inch of his cock deep down her throat and deposited load after load of his seed directly into her belly.

 

Ned’s vision went white, he stumbled back into the cold stone wall of the cell, still holding Melisandre’s now limp and coughing body on his cock. When Ned fully was spent, he let go of Melisandre’s hair. She flopped down onto the floor, coughing and spluttering, gasping for air as strings of his seed drooled from her lips, her eyes watery and her skin flushed.

 

Gone was the red woman’s grace and dignity. She seemed less powerful to Ned now. A mortal woman just like any other. And he was still hard.

 

“R’hllor blesses me this day…” Melisandre gasped as Ned positioned her on her back, lying on the stone floor.

 

“It’s my cock you’re about to have filling you.” He grunted. “It’s my blessing you’re about to receive.” Reaching down, Ned angled his cock so it’s end kissed the lips of the red woman’s cunt. They were sopping wet and eager for him.

 

“Yes…” The red woman murmured. “Fuck me with your massive cock. Bless me with your mighty Lightbringer!” She shivered and screamed when Ned eased his cock inside her, inch after inch. Her cunt was glorious. It was like making love to fire, but without being burned. The tight heat was maddening. As was the pleasure.

 

Ned started thrusting slowly, but to hear Melisandre’s moans, you would think he was hammering away at her cunt like it owed him money. She screamed his name and many other things in foreign languages Ned did not know.

 

Her massive, perfect breasts bounced up and down in time with Ned’s thrusts. He took one nipple between his lips and bit down on it, making the red woman scream and quiver as his thrusting brought her to her first climax of their liaison.

 

Ned near spent himself when he felt her divine pleasure bathing his cock. Her cunt was leaking cream as the wet slaps of Ned’s pelvis against hers echoed off the hard stone walls of the cell. Ned ravished her and ravished her, without restraint and entirely selfishly for his own pleasure and she could only howl for more. Her pale skin was flushed and shiny with sweat at her extreme arousal.

 

“Fuck me, your grace!” She whined, her head thrashing from side to side, her arms and legs were wrapped around Ned’s body, keeping him close, keeping him inside her. He hammered at her gates with his battering ram, beating her womanhood with his mighty club. “I am yours!” She screamed as another climax shattered her mind and put it back together again as her body shook.

 

“Fuck me! Use me as you see fit!” The large ruby on Melisandre’s choker was glowing brighter and brighter, pulsing in time with her own heartbeats. Ned grunted as he felt his pleasure building inside him again. His cock was throbbing like never before and with one great thrust, Ned fucked an ocean of his seed deep into the red woman’s womb, bringing her to another, screaming climax.

 

And yet Ned was not sated.

 

Still staying inside the red haired beauty, Ned roughly gripped her by the hips and spun her around to her hands and knees. Her arms had not the strength to hold her up so her face was pressed against the hard stone floor.

 

Ned positioned Melisandre’s knees beneath her hips so her voluptuous arse was raised up. Ned laughed and laid a hard smack on her behind, then another and another, enjoying how it wobbled pleasantly. Melisandre was moaning and whining as Ned turned her arse as red as her hair.

 

Eventually Ned grew tired of beating his whore, gripped her by her wide hips and slammed his cock balls-deep inside her cunt.

 

“Ahhh!” Melisandre screamed loudly at her rough treatment. Ned only grinned and slammed inside her again, watching her fleshy arse-cheeks quake and shudder at the force of his blows. The loud, wet claps of their flesh meeting together were heard again, louder and more fervent than before.

 

“Gods! AHHH! Have mercy!!” Melisandre babbled, drooling onto the floor as her thighs quivered through her seventh climax.

 

“Whose Gods would those be?” Ned gripped her long red hair tightly and yanked her up so his chest was pressed against her back.

 

“I… Ah! Fuck! I-I don’t know…” Melisandre gave something between a sob and a moan. “And I don’t care. Your cock is the only God I need!” Ned began fucking Melisandre even harder after that, drunk on his victory over her and his lust for her body.

 

“Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods!” Melisandre screamed ad infinitum as Ned rutted her through her next half-dozen climaxes.

 

After what felt like a lifetime, Ned finally found his end, depositing his final load into the red woman’s tight arsehole. Ned lay on Melisandre’s prone body as they both panted out their exhaustion together until the door to the cell burst open.

 

“You’ve been in the cell for hours!” Harper shouted. “You don’t pay me enough to stand and listen to you fucking our prisoners!”

 

Ned could only laugh in response.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It was the next day when their scouts brought word of a large host approaching Riverrun from the East. Ned had feared Lord Tywin had roused from his slumber and left Harrenhall. He was certainly surprised to hear that the scouts saw only the Vale’s banners being flown.

 

Ned had made for his dragon immediately, with Benjen and Lyanna joining him on their flight to meet the army that was approaching them. It took less than an hour of flying before Ned saw them, a river a steel slowly snaking their way along the Tumblestone. Upon inspection, Ned saw his scouts had been correct. He saw the runes of house Royce lining the banners at the head of the column, then there was house Hunter’s arrows on another. There was Waynwood and Redfort, Templeton and Belmore and a few score other banners that he could not name. Ned allowed himself a small smile. It seemed his friends in the Vale had answered his call after all.

 

Ned signalled Benjen and Lyanna to continue circling above on their own dragons then urged Snowsong to touch down a few hundred feet ahead of the column. He was barely out of his saddle before he saw horses riding out from the army to meet him, the Royce banner flying high above them. It was moments before Ned recognised Bronze Yohn leading them, wearing his Black Uru breastplate with bronze runes carved into it.

 

“Gods Ned, it’s good to see you!” Yohn’s voice boomed as he rode up to Ned, dismounted his horse and pulled him into a crushing hug. Though the man was a good few years older than Ned, with a lined face and grey hair, he could snap most younger men in two with his great strength.

 

“I am glad to see you too, old friend.” Ned said after they pulled apart.

 

“Freya’s tits,” Yohn swore. “Robar was right... Have I strayed into the past? I swear you didn’t look that young when I last saw you.”

 

“A gift from some new friends.” Ned smiled, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “I shall explain all later. But first I would rather you tell me why you have come.”

 

“We all received your messages.” Bronze Yohn explained, his voice turning more serious. “It took us some time to debate their contents. Of course we knew you would never lie to us, but the consequences of such crimes would have been severe…”

 

“And what conclusion did you come to?”

 

“That Lysa’s son was no Arryn.” Yohn said sternly. “The lords all gathered and confronted Lysa with the truth. She tried to take her son and flee through the Moondoor when we did.”

 

Ned’s face fell in shock. For a mother to try and kill her own child, she must have surely been mad. “We managed to stop her.” Yohn continued. “She and her son have been confined in Runestone.”

 

“Jon had no other heirs.” Ned said, sadly. “Who rules the Vale now?”

 

“Lord Jon’s sister had a daughter who had a son: Harry Hardyng.” Yohn stated. “He was the last male descendant of Lord Jon’s father, Jasper.”

 

Ned closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He was?”

 

“He was a ward of lady Waynwood, upon being informed of the Vale passing to him, he began travelling to the Eyrie to claim his seat…” Yohn began. “His party was attacked by mountain clansmen and killed to a man. Someone’s been giving them good steel and helping them organise.” He grumbled.

 

“So there is no longer any clear successor to Jon Arryn?” Ned asked, mournfully.

 

“Indeed.” Yohn responded. “So we called a council of every lord in the Vale, great or small and we had a vote on what we should do next. I advocated that you and Robert were the closest things to sons Jon Arryn ever had and that he would want us to declare for you.” He said proudly. “The other lords agreed.”

 

Ned was stunned. If the Vale had declared for him, that meant he was the lord of three of the seven kingdoms. Few Starks in all the history of their house had held power like that. “There are, of course, conditions...” Bronze Yohn added.

 

“We can discuss them in Riverrun.” Ned responded. “I’m sure your army would rather make camp than stand idle while we talked.”

 

With that, Ned climbed the rigging into Snowsong’s saddle and made back towards the castle, the knights of the Vale following from the ground. The arrival of a whole new, fresh army sent cheers all through the army camp when they finally arrived. After Ned had dismounted his dragon, he watched from Riverrun’s battlements as his army swelled to an even greater size than before.

 

Once all were settled, Ned met with the lords of the North, Riverlands and the Vale in the great hall where the conditions of the Vale’s allegiance were discussed. In truth the conditions were far from dear.

 

The Vale wanted Ned’s pledge that he would protect and defend the Vale as he would the North and Riverlands and in return, they would march to war when called upon. The lords also wanted preferential rates for the Great Canal as they were to be swearing fealty to the Starks of Winterfell. They also required that one of his sons marry a lady from one of the main houses of the Vale to solidify the alliance. The first son of that union would then rule the Vale as its lord, with the other noble families of the Vale following him and his descendants.

 

It was quickly agreed that Robb would marry Myranda Royce, who had ridden with her father and uncle to Riverrun. The girl was Rhaenys’ age and decidedly buxom. Robb and Rhaenys certainly seemed to appreciate the substantially curvy form of their future bride.

 

Some riverlords stood in protest that the Vale be given a marriage where their kingdom. Before Ned could speak, Cat was the one who pointed out the Riverlands got their marriage two decades ago and their future king would be half Tully. That seemed to quell their discontent quickly.

 

With that, the documents were signed, seals affixed and agreements made. Ned left Riverrun’s great hall a king of three kingdoms. Of course, the Vale certainly didn’t just take and give nothing in return. The Vale’s army that arrived at Riverrun numbered thirty-thousand, a large portion of them were demi-griffin mounted knights. Another ten-thousand remained in the Vale to defend it from counter attack by the Lannisters. As it stood, Ned ran the rough numbers in his head and realised his army outnumbered the Lannisters forces by nearly three-to-one. It was certainly a position of strength to negotiate from.

 

A few days after the agreements had been made, Robb and Rhaenys married Myranda Royce in a quick wedding that all the lords attended. From the looks on his son’s face, Ned gathered that the three of them had already had their weeding night, probably on the day the Vale arrived.

 

Feasts were had to celebrate the marriage and new alliance. It seemed to Ned that many there thought the war to be already won, with their three kingdoms bound together in blood and marriage. Men and woman ate and drank aplenty.

 

When Ned saw his oldest son sitting with his two wives, talking and laughing together, he found himself thinking about how glad he was not to have missed at least this wedding day.

 

The night was grew long, with much song and more wine. Ned had eventually retired to his bed with his wives before the bedding ceremony had begun. After their usual nightly lovemaking, all four slept soundly that night.

 

Until they were woken early in the morning when Harper barged into their bedchamber, howling at the top of his lungs. Ned almost felt he should bury his face deeper into Cat’s bosom, but Harper would never had roused him without a reason.

 

“What is it?” Ned raised from the bed, still sleepy.

 

“They’ve gone!” Harper repeated.

 

“Who?”

 

“The Kingslayer! The bastard took him from his cell and they flew away together on his dragon.”

Notes:

Merry Christmas!

Fuck, it’s been a while hasn’t it? In any case i’m glad to present another chapter for my eager readers. My only regret is that the chapter isn’t longer. Either way, I hope to reduce the time between chapters now.

So with that, I will say ‘till next time on When Winter Comes!

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Chapter 30: Chapter 25

It was early in the morning when Robb was roused from pleasant dreams to find his blankets had been removed. His new wife was naked and kneeling over his legs, her head bobbing up and down on his already hardened length. It was one of the best feelings Robb knew, to be woken by a warm mouth around his manhood.

 

“Our new wife seems eager to fulfil her duties.” Rhaenys giggled beside him on the bed, also naked, her heavily pregnant belly having swollen large. His first wife was sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by pillows and pleasuring herself as she watched Myranda work his cock.

 

“If i’m woken up like this every day this marriage will surely be a delight.” Robb laughed along with Rhaenys. Myranda withdrew from his cock, but still kept a hand wrapped around the base, licking her lips as she looked up to them.

 

“You’ve been his wife for near a year.” She smirked. “And have been fucking him for years beforehand. I’ve only been his wife for a night. I have lots to catch up on.”

 

“Then by all means.” Rhaenys lazily played with one of her hardened nipples. “I’m very much enjoying the show.”

 

“I believe our husband has been prepared long enough.” Myranda rubbed his cock a few times, making Robb groan in pleasure. “The time has come for the main event.”

 

It was then Myranda Royce rose from her knees to stand on the bed. Her feet stood on either side of Robb’s hips, his eyes drinking her in. And there was certainly a lot of her to drink. Though she was a short woman, Myranda was very fleshy and one of the most buxom women Robb had ever seen. She had a small mouth, large expressive brown eyes and curly brown hair falling to her mid-back. Her cheeks were full and rosy and her porcelain skin was flawless. The Gods had seemed fit to not only give the woman an enormous bust, but also wide hips too and a soft stomach.

 

“I see our wife is not the only one enjoying the view.” Myranda smirked as she cocked her hip to the side confidently. In a way, reminding Robb of Ygritte.

 

“How could I not? When there’s so much to enjoy.” Robb ran his hands up her calves, then suddenly gripped the inside of her knees and pulled them forward. Myranda lost her balance and sat heavily down on Robb’s hips. Thankfully she had a supreme amount of cushioning to soften her landing.

 

Both women were giggling quickly at Myranda’s fall. “Naughty boy.” She playfully slapped his chest. “Someone’s eager for it.”

 

“I’m not the only one.” He reached a hand out and ran his fingers along her lower lips. They came away wet from her clear arousal. Robb put his soaked fingers in her mouth and she sucked on her own pleasure greedily.

 

“Hmmm, I taste good.” Myranda moaned as she licked Robb’s fingers clean.

 

“I agree.” Rhaenys added. Robb had lost count of the number of climaxes Rhaenys had torn from Myranda the night before, with her mouth on her cunt.

 

Myranda had taken Robb’s cock in hand, pumping him leisurely a few times before rising slightly, angling the tip to her cunt then sinking down the entire length of his throbbing cock. Her cunt was tight and wet around him, squeezing and massaging his cock. Robb must have taken her a dozen times the night before, yet every time it still felt like the first.

 

“Goddddsss!” Myranda moaned, her eyes closing, her head tilting back, pushing out her enormous breasts into Robb’s face. He licked and sucked and bit Myranda’s large nipples as she slowly rocked on his length. “Whatever I did to make the Gods think I deserved a husband like you, i’m glad it happened.” Myranda laughed breathlessly when she came back to herself.

 

Robb’s hands found their way to Myranda’s ample hips, taking a firm grip. “You aren’t the only lucky one here.”

 

“Well you’re certainly better than my first husband.” Myranda laughed. She had told the both of them of her first marriage the night before at the wedding feast.

 

“Yes.” Rhaenys seemed almost concerned. “It must have been truly dreadful to have him dying while…” She made an indicative motion with her hand.

 

“While fucking me?” Myranda finished for her. “Well it was disconcerting certainly. Not to mention discourteous. He didn’t even have the common decency to plant a child in me. He left me a woman flowered, wedded, bedded and widowed all before I was twenty. Thankfully…” She placed her small hands on Robb’s chest as she began to rock up and down slowly on his cock. “Our dear husband survived our wedding night and filled me like a wineskin.”

 

“Several times over I would say.” Robb laughed, using hips to guide her up and down. On their wedding night, Myranda had been one of the most energetic lovers Robb and Rhaenys had ever had. Their new wife seemed to have stamina for days and an appetite to match. “Though being fucked to death by you is certainly one of the best ways to go I can think of.”

 

Myranda and Rhaenys both laughed at that. “Oh yes.” She replied. “Martyn died with his head buried in my tits, a smile on his face and very empty balls.”

 

“A better way to die than most men his age could have expected.” Rhaenys chuckled.

 

“That’s what I said!” Myranda exclaimed, still riding Robb’s cock. “But his humourless brother couldn’t see the funny side of it.”

 

“Some men are too sour for their own good.” Rhaenys scoffed.

 

“I’m anything but sour.” Robb leaded forward reached around and clapped a hand heavily down on Myranda’s fleshy behind, making it wobble pleasantly as she squealed in delight.

 

Their fucking was becoming more heated then. Raw and untamed. The entire point of their marriage was for Robb to impregnate Myranda with a son that would eventually rule the Vale. It was their duty to make one as soon as possible. And Robb was nothing if not dutiful. The loud slapping of Myranda’s round, ample behind smacking against Robb’s hips was rebounding off the stone walls of their room. The fleshy parts of Myranda’s pale body bounced delightfully under Robb’s gaze.

 

With one hand still on her hips, making sure she kept rhythm with his thrusts, his other went to her breasts. With his mouth on one nipple and his hand on the other, Robb mauled his new wife’s bosom like a ravenous beast. Myranda’s cries of pleasure and quivering cunt only showed Robb she wanted more. So he made sure to give it to her.

 

Wet sounds and soft moans also came from Robb’s left, where Rhaenys was furiously working her cunt as she watched them. Every now and then she would reach her fingers out and let Robb taste her pleasure on them. It was the nectar of the gods. Robb longed for the time when he would be able to take the both of them together, yet Rhaenys was so far along now that lovemaking had become a bit too taxing for her.

 

“Fuck me Robb!” Myranda cried. “Fuck your whore wife!”

 

Robb grunted and dug his fingers into her hip so hard he thought there might be bruises on them when they were done. All they knew was pleasure, her cunt around him and him spearing deep inside her.

 

“So deep!” Myranda near sobbed, her arms cradling Robb’s head, her enormous breasts slapping him in the face repeatedly as she slammed herself down on his throbbing shaft. Their breath mingled together as they both panted from the effort and the heat of their fucking.

 

Even though they had only been lovers for a night, Robb could point out the telltale signs of Myranda’s pleasure coming to an explosive crescendo. It was a gift the Starks had that proved accurate yet again. Within a dozen thrusts, Myranda Royce, now Stark came to one of the most explosive climaxes of her life. Her pleasure sprayed Robb’s lower body in a great tidal wave from her cunt.

 

“It’s like a fucking fountain!” Rhaenys half laughed as she brought herself to her own end. Robb could only agree.

 

Their new wife was certainly a squirter. And a loud one at that.

 

When Myranda’s quivering climax came to an end, she was still panting as she rested her head against Robb’s. “Gods, you’re so much better than any other lover i’ve had.” She sighed happily. “They always finished so fast...”

 

“With a body like yours, I can’t blame them.” Robb laughed and smacked Myranda’s arse again. She could only breathlessly smile and kissed his lips tenderly.

 

“I believe our dear husband still has yet to find his own end.” They heard Rhaenys say beside them.

 

“Well we can’t have tha-ah!” Whatever Myranda was about to say was interrupted by Robb, who flipped her onto her hands and knees and pushed her face into Rhaenys’ cunt. On instinct, she began to lap away at her wife’s slick folds.

 

“I’ve never eaten a cunt before.” She said between licks. “But I think I’m developing a taste for it now.”

 

“I can hardly blame you.” Robb smacked her impossibly round arse again. It was sticking up and out into the cool air, just begging to be used. Robb admired his new wife’s curvy posterior again, only from a different angle. Myranda’s arse-cheeks were just as, if not more, enormous than her chest. The woman brought a whole new level to meaning of “Voluptuous” that Robb wasn’t even aware existed. With one hand on her hip and the other holding his cock, still slick with her juices, Robb rubbed his cock-head against Myranda’s cunt and arsehole, probing both entrances.

 

“I-I’ve never had someone take me there before…” She turned back to him uncharacteristically shyly.

 

“Gods, you’ve had no women and no men have taken your arse?” Rhaenys was half moaning, her hands in Myranda’s hair. “It seems we’ve brought a prude into our bed.”

 

“That’s not true!” Myranda declared proudly. “Mya’s called me the lustiest wench in the Vale many times!”

 

“You’re not in the Vale any more, my dear.” Robb growled as he sheathed the whole length of his cock into her cunt.

 

Myranda’s scream of pleasure was muffled by Rhaenys’ thighs. But he wouldn’t have been surprised if they heard it all over the army camp. Robb drew out a few inches, then slammed home again. Then again. Then again. In moments he was hammering away at Myranda’s cunt like a runaway stallion. Waves of her ample flesh rippled on the impact of Robb’s hips. Her body was so soft and malleable to the touch, Robb knew she would be one of his favourite lovers, probably Jon’s too.

 

“If you think things are hard now, just wait until Jon and I are fucking you together.” Robb voiced his thoughts as he smacked Myranda’s arse a few times, turning the pale flesh red.

 

“W-whaaatt?” She moaned wantonly, panting into Rhaenys’ thigh, her hair plastered to her sweaty face and back.

 

“Ohh yes.” Rhaenys sang, cradling Myranda’s head in her hands. “Robb and Jon do everything together. Including their wives.”

 

The thought certainly seemed to arouse the Valeish lady as she climaxed again, right then and there. Her thighs were quivering as she bathed Robb’s cock in her warm essence again.

 

That was how they stayed for the better part of an hour. Robb ploughed Myranda like an angry farmer as she licked Rhaenys to completion. After a while, Robb’s thrusting became more than Myranda could handle and she lost all coherence. She could only moan and squeal as she clung to Rhaenys’ thighs like her life depended on it.

 

Eventually the feeling of Myranda’s fluttering and quivering cunt enveloping his cock became too much to bear. With one last hard thrust, he went deeper into Myranda than ever before and filled her womb with his seed.

 

When Robb was done, he collapsed back onto the bed alongside a very naked and very sated Rhaenys and Myranda. Eventually they were roused by shouting and an Ice Guard bursting through the door to their chambers.

 

“What is the meaning of this!?” Robb thundered, unhappy that his morning rest was interrupted.

 

“Pardon, yer Grace.” The Ice Guard bowed slightly. “But one of the bastards has made off with the Kingslayer.”

 

Fuck.

 

 

—————————

Ned

 

 

“Please explain to me,” Ned’s voice was ice cold. “How one man manages to abscond with our most valuable prisoner and fly off into the night with the second largest dragon we have. I am confused…” His last words were sharper than an Uru razor.

 

Captain Wuldric Brandywell stood before Ned in his solar, the Ice Guard that had been responsible for the cells in Riverrun. The Brandywells were a small but proud masterly house that had come North with the Manderlys all those years ago. They were known to be as stout and loyal as their liege’s, though not as crafty. Ned found himself regretting that fact at this moment. It was still early morning, the rising sun’s orange light streamed through the windows of the solar, illuminating the stalwart Ice Guard in it’s glow.

 

“I don’t know, your grace.” The man’s back was straight as an arrow and his face was stone, but Ned could see the shame in his eyes.

 

“That’s not good enough!” Harper thundered, he was standing to Ned’s left leaning against his desk.

 

“I know, sir.” Wuldric raised his chin. “There’s no excuse for this lapse, I take full responsibility.”

 

Ned ground his teeth together and grunted. Wuldric couldn’t possibly have been guarding every cell at all times. The failure was that of the men under his command, yet he would not say their names and took the blame all on himself. It was the kind of act Ned admired.

 

“Tell us what happened again, leave no detail out.” Ned sighed.

 

“As you wish, your grace.” Wuldric responded. “It happened during the hour of the Owl, a fair number in the castle were still celebrating the wedding.”

 

Drinking and making merry like it was their last night alive , Ned thought ruefully.

 

“We know Cleaton Snow went to the lower dungeons first, to release Lannister knights that were less guarded and would help him in his treachery. We don’t know how he subdued the guards, but from their wounds, I can’t see how they would be killed while awake.” The bodies of the Winter Wolves who had been on duty were found in the cells they were guarding, their throats slit, stripped on all arms and armour.

 

“Do we know which knights Cleaton freed?” Harper asked.

 

“A Sarsfield, two Crakehalls, a Brax, a Lorch and a Serret. The Serret and the Lorch were the bodies found outside the Kingslayer’s cell.” Wuldric answered. “They weren’t counted among the more valuable hostages and we have a great many of them so they had fewer guards and shared a cell.”

 

Suffering from success , Ned nearly laughed. They had taken so many hostages that they couldn’t guard them all. “And with his new friends, Cleaton broke Jaime Lannister from his cell?” Ned surmised.

 

“Yes.” Wuldric answered, shortly. “I had assigned some of the Kingslayer’s guards to helping our allies from the Vale get settled.”

 

“You reassigned his guards?” Harper’s voice was low and angry.

 

“I thought two Ice Guard would be enough to guard one cell in the middle of a castle surrounded by our army. Nevertheless, it was a mistake. A fatal one. One that rests entirely on my shoulders.” Wuldric clenched his jaw.

 

“Aye, and you’ll be the one to write the letters to their families-”

 

“That’s enough Harper.” Ned cut him off. He scratched his fingers through his beard in contemplation. Of course the Gods slap us down when things begin to go well.

 

“Once they had the Kingslayer, we assume that was when they went to the northern wall climbed down the rope we found.”

 

“The rope that was by the two dead Tully guards.” Harper cut in.

 

“Yes.” Wuldric responded. “From the small bank beyond the castle walls, they must have swum across the river to where the dragons have been resting.”

 

“And from there it was all too simple for Cleaton to mount his dragon and fly away…” Ned seethed for moment then slammed his fist onto the desk, breaking it instantly. Wooden shards and splinters erupted from the table before it crumpled, spilling the stacks of papers and goblets that were placed on it to the floor.

 

“Ye Gods!” Harper exclaimed as he stumbled to find balance. He had been leaning on the table.

 

Ned knew not to make decisions in anger. “Go.” He ordered Wuldric. “I will decide what to do with you later.” The Ice Guard bowed stiffly then left the room, only to be replaced by Arthur.

 

“It seems Cleaton used Sweetsleep to subdue the guards.” He stated. “He likely came down offering drinks in celebration of the wedding.”

 

“How did he get it?” Ned asked.

 

“The Maester gave it to him.” Arthur laughed bitterly. “He told the man he was having trouble sleeping so he asked for a vial, which he then must have poured into the wine.”

 

“Ah fuck me…” Harper swore as he went for a pitcher of water and took a swig. “This shouldn’t have happened. We’ve been sitting still too long, we got too comfortable.”

 

“At least no others escaped.” Arthur said. Ned hummed in agreement. Their captured Lannister dragonrider and Lord Tywin’s brother Tygett were still in their cells. Ned imagined Cleaton and his friends felt them too guarded to risk breaking them out alongside the Kingslayer.

 

“We cannot trust the others.” Harper stated plainly. “Barring yer daughter of course.” He nodded to Ned.

 

“I agree.” Arthur added. “Arra’s loyalty may be steadfast but I can’t guarantee the others are as loyal.”

 

“If they meant to betray us, do you not think they would already have done so with Cleaton?” Ned asked. He remembered Cleaton had a sister who rode a dragon, but she had not gone with him. Would a man like that abandon his sister? Mayhaps, but that didn’t prove her innocence by any means.

 

“Perhaps, but I feel it’s better to err on the side of caution.”

 

“You may be right.” Ned sighed. “See to it Harper and be sure to let them know this is only a precaution. I don’t want to make enemies where none yet exist. They will be allowed to leave their chambers in the future.” Harper nodded then left the solar.

 

“We cannot allow more of our dragons to slip into Lannister hands.” Arthur said.

 

Ned knew his meaning.

 

As the main desk in the solar had been reduced to kindling, Ned made do with one of the smaller side-tables. He penned a letter to Luwin, instructing him to triple the guard on the dragons and not to let any others attempt to claim one. It was perhaps a little too late, but it could not be helped.

 

“So what shall we do now?”

 

Ned thought for a moment. “Harper was right. We have sat still for too long. And I have a plan to fix that.”

 

 

—————————

Jon

 

 

“She’s not made a peep since the Kingslayer’s escape.” Sygran Cassel, of one of the many Cassel family offshoots, told Jon as he began unlocking the heavy iron bolts of the cell door.

 

Jon only hummed in response.

 

The Ice Guard Captain and a company of men had been assigned to Dāezara‘s cell to keep her secure after Cleaton Snow had made off with their most valuable hostage. Jon felt a pang of guilt for having suggested the use of Stark bastards in the first place. History had shown how well that went for Rhaenyra with the Targaryen Dragonseeds, Jon had just chosen to ignore the lesson.

 

He just knew Sabrina would have been bashing him over the head with a book for his stupidity if she wasn’t back in Winterfell. A big, heavy book too. Maybe that biography of perhaps the most monotonously boring Stark to ever live. The one she enjoyed punishing her unruly students with.

 

The deep clunk of the last iron bolts being unlocked drew Jon from his thoughts. Sygran heaved the cell door open, Jon rested his hand on Passion’s silver dragon-egg pommel and strode inside the cell. It was much the same as it had been the last time Jon was there. And the time before that.

 

The room was still dimly lit from the small barred window on the opposite wall and Dāezara still sat slumped over in the shade, her face hidden by her hair. Jon took a few steps into the light, then crouched down so he was at her eye-level, a few feet from her position against the wall.

 

“The guards say you haven’t had any food or drink since the escape.” His eyes fell to the untouched bowl of bread and cheese beside the full skin of water. They had also said she had been screaming and banging on the door when they went to check on her after they found the Kingslayer’s cell empty.

 

First she’d raged, then she’d wept, then she’d done nothing at all. In order to get out, Cleaton his accomplices and the Kingslayer would have had to walk past her cell door. They certainly would have heard her.

 

“You should at least drink.” Jon urged her. There was a long pause then Dāezara raised her head a little.

 

“They left me…” She croaked out, her voice was hoarse with pain and grief. “They left me…” Jon pitied the woman, she had no one in the whole world who would help her. Jon was always glad to have such an extensive and close family, in that moment he was doubly so. There seemed to be no end to the extended family who would raise hell for Jon if he needed them to. But Dāezara had no one.

 

“…I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to say.

 

“No you aren’t!” She spat, slowly rising to her feet, Jon did the same. “You wanted them to leave me here. You hate them and certainly you don’t care for me.”

 

“It seems to be the Lannisters don’t care much for you either.”

 

Dāezara screamed, swore and kicked an empty shit bucket into the wall in anger. It bounced off the wall with some force before it clattered around loudly and came to a stop. The silver haired woman was pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, her shoulders tense. She looked on the verge of tears.

 

“All my life i’ve served them.” She chocked out. “All my life and they… Like it meant nothing. Like my life means nothing.” The tears were falling freely down her face now.

 

“I am sorry for the way Tywin Lannister treated you.” Jon said as he inched closer. “You don’t mean nothing Dāezara.” She flinched at her name, her bloodshot eyes locked with Jon’s.

 

“You’re the first person who’s ever called me by my name.” She sniffed.

 

“It’s a good name. Probably better than any name i’d have picked for myself.” Jon forced a small laugh out.

 

“Why do you keep visiting me? You know everything I know. If you wanted to have me, you could have had your guards hold me down long ago. Why do you care?”

 

“I would never force myself on you.” Jon said, reflexively. She only scoffed in response.

 

On occasion Jon had asked himself why he cared for one Lannister prisoner. It was true she was a beautiful woman, even after a month in a cell, but Jon had no shortage of beautiful women. It was also true that turning a dragonrider to their cause would be great victory. But she would be one rider of many and on the smallest dragon. There was another reason. A deeper one. “I don’t know if they taught you of the Gods at all.” He began.

 

“I don’t care for the Gods.” Dāezara said spitefully. “Not one of them answered my prayers in all my life. And I tried every one of them.”

 

“In the North, we hold to the Old Gods.” Jon continued. “They teach us that a person cannot own another person, that one’s life is their own. But that isn’t really true. My life has never been my own. Nor you, yours.”

 

“The poor prince living in his big castle.” She snarked, Jon had to admit she had a point. Compared to most he lived a life of luxury. There were things he took for granted that others wouldn’t dare dream of having. But long ago, Jon remembered a reading from a great thinker they had been taught about by their tutors. Man will always be drawn to want what he does not have.

 

“Of course our situations are very different.” Jon qualified. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t empathise with wanting to be free.”

 

For as long as Jon could remember, he’d been the younger twin. Robb would inherit Ice and Winterfell and Jon would serve him as Grand Marshall of the North. Jon loved his brother and would do anything for him, but he would be lying if he said he never dreamed of their positions being reversed. Then he wouldn’t have to be the dutiful younger brother.

 

Jon’s entire life had been set out for him the day he was born, was it truly the worst thing to wonder what would happen if…?

 

If…

 

If.

 

A small but powerful word. Upon which the world could shift. Jon’s life was set, it was not his own. Dāezara’s life had been set out for her since lord Tywin took her. Granted in a much more brutal way, but they had both had choice be made for them. Jon would do what he could to help Dāezara get the freedom that she ached to have. The kind of freedom a part of him desired too. Perhaps that part of him might be satisfied to see that kind of freedom for another.

 

Before Jon knew what was happening, she rushed him and wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his shoulder.

 

Jon tentatively returned her hug, feeling her tears soaking into his doublet. It crossed Jon’s mind that this was probably the first hug she’d ever had. After a few moments she pulled away from him, wiping her nose with her hand, her eyes red and cheeks puffy.

 

She walked past him and Jon could have sworn she whispered “thank you.” As she went. He turned and saw her picking up the water skin and taking small sips.

 

Little was said after that. Jon could tell she wanted time, he probably needed the same. He left her cell soon after, passing Ghost who’d been sitting outside the door.

 

“Jon!” He heard his great uncle calling after him as he walked from the cells. He stopped and turned, waiting for the old Witcher to catch up. Old… Jon almost laughed to himself.

 

After Beric’s injuries at the battle of Oxcross, the Amazons had offered to heal and rejuvenate him with their magic waters. The results had been surprising, to say the least. The Bloodwolf was over a century old, yet as Jon saw him stride forth, he wouldn’t have said Beric was older than forty. Maybe even thirty-five.

 

Gone were the grey hairs and wrinkles that showed his age and wisdom. Now his hair was as dark as Jon’s, it hung loose and not very long. Where once Beric had a thick beard, now his angular jaw was clean shaved. Jon and all his siblings had agreed their great uncle now held a remarkable resemblance to Uncle Benjen. Though Jon supposed that was hardly so remarkable as he had been the brother of Uncle Benjen’s grandfather.

 

Even Roach, his wolf seemed more youthful than before, if missing an eye.

 

“Checking up on our prisoner, were you?” Beric had a sly grin.

 

“She wasn’t best pleased to have been left behind.” Jon admitted.

 

“Neither is Tygett, it seems.” Lord Tywin’s brother had also been left in the cells as the Kingslayer made his escape. Beric had gone to see that Lannister Witcher almost as often as Jon had gone to Dāezara.

 

“I guess the Lannisters aren’t as close as we Starks are.” Jon chuckled as they approached the steps out of Riverrun’s dungeons. “I am surprised to see Tetra has let you out of her rooms long enough to check on the prisoners.”

 

Almost the moment after Beric had been rejuvenated, Tetra had dragged him and Samara off to a bedroom and slammed the door. None of the three had been seen for the three days after. But they had been heard. Much to everyone’s annoyance.

 

“It seems my newfound stamina is too much for them.” Beric barked out a laugh. “I’ve a little time to leave our bedchambers while they recover. I swear i’ve not felt this alive in decades.”

 

“Perhaps I should try some of that Amazon water too.” Jon quipped. “Ygritte, Val and Myrcella would certainly appreciate it.” They both laughed together.

 

“About your wives,” Beric started. “They must be ready to burst soon with how big they’re getting.” It was true, they were certainly nearing the birthing time. And they weren’t the only ones. Rhaenys and his mothers were near too.

 

“There’ll certainly be many new Starks running around soon.” Jon said. It was a strange feeling to know he would soon be a father. He had talked with his own father about it. It was some comfort to know he was not alone in his feelings.

 

“Who knows, there might even be more Starks to come.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Tetra thinks the Amazon water might reverse Witcher infertility.” Beric explained. “That’s why she was so quick to drag me away. She wanted to run… tests…” Both men chuckled again. “I imagine Yen might enjoy having younger siblings.”

 

“I don’t know if I am ready to be a father.” Jon admitted.

 

Beric put a hand on his shoulder and gave a warm smile. “No one ever is. I can’t say everything will be perfect, because that would be a lie. But I can say that when you hold your baby in your arms, nothing else in the world will matter… Then the little arseholes will have the audacity to grow up and cause all kinds of headaches for you.” He joked.

 

“Then here’s to a new generation of Stark hellions.” Jon toasted, though neither had anything to drink.

 

“To repay us for all the sleepless nights we gave our parents.” Beric added.

 

The pair just crossed over the top of the stairs when one of Riverrun’s stewards came upon them. “The King in the North has called a council.” He declared. “All lords great and small, Rangers, Knights and Officers are commanded to attend.”

 

Beric cracked a small smile. “Let’s see what bold new strategy your father has cooked up for us.”

 

 

—————————

Ned

 

 

Riverrun’s great hall was filled to bursting. The lords of the North, Riverlands and the Vale had come to hear Ned’s plans, not to mention the Amazons too. Near a dozen more long benches had needed to be brought into the hall to accommodate the numerous guests, and there were still many who had to stand.   

 

Ned sat in the hall’s high seat, with Ice resting on an arm and Fang sitting beside him. His wives also had thrones of their own, each of them littered with cushions to help alleviate their discomfort due to their heavily pregnant states. It was just after noon and the lords were grumbling with discontent. They all knew of the Kingslayer’s escape along with Cleaton Snow’s defection to Tywin Lannister.

 

“Forgive me, your grace!” Called lord Bracken. “But how is it that someone can abscond with our most valuable prisoner and one of our most valuable dragons!” More than a hundred voices made their agreement with lord Bracken known.

 

Ned raised his hand and silence fell on the hall. “It was a colossal failure and no mistake.” He admitted. “And the matter has been dealt with.”

 

“Who was the watchman who let them pass?!” A nameless voice called out from the group of lords.

 

“Where were the Kingslayer’s guards?” Cried another.

 

“They should swing!” Came another shout, men started stamping their feet in agreement.

 

Ned would not tell them no matter how much thy shouted and raged. It was an Ice Guard who failed in his duty, one of his men. Ned would not let one of his men be lynched by a mob.

 

“Quiet!” Harper shouted, standing a few feet in front of Ned, at the bottom of the steps that led up to his seat. Eventually the lords headed the Chosen Man.

 

“I have dealt with the matter personally.” Ned stated. “I bear the responsibility for this mess anyhow.”

 

“That’s not true!” Greatjon bellowed. “The fault lies on every one of us, we failed you!”

 

The loyalty of his longtime friend warmed Ned’s heart. “You are too kind.” Ned smiled down at him. “But mistaken. The fault is mine because I have allowed us to get complacent. We have stayed here too long. We’ve become comfortable. But now there are far too many of us in one place, just look at this hall.” That was met by a rumble of low chuckles. “We need to be on the move again, if we don’t surely more mistakes will follow.”

 

“So we are to go on the march?” Asked Lord Horton Redfort, the stout man leaning on a table next to Bronze Yohn as he could not find a seat.

 

Ned rose from his seat. “Indeed we are.”

 

He then indicated to Triss who was standing in the gallery to cast her illusion. In moments a large map of Westeros shimmered into existence above the seat Ned had just vacated. The map was ten feet wide and seven feet tall, focusing mainly on the Riverlands, the Westerlands and the Vale.

 

“I trust you can all see clearly.” Ned said as he formed a long rod out of ice to help him indicate where he was pointing. The hall was filled with the sound of grumbling and the legs of wooden benches scraping along the floor as people shifted to get a better view.

 

“We are here.” Ned indicated to Riverrun on the map. “With the recent arrival of our friends from the Vale…” Men banged their fists on the table and cheered their comrades. “Our forces here have swelled to near sixty thousand.”

 

“We should take the fight to Lord Tywin and crush him!” Shouted a young and over eager knight from the back of the hall.

 

“Alas, that might not be an easy task.” Ned continued, moving the rod until it indicated to Harrenhal. “Lord Tywin has fortified Harrenhal with just under forty thousand men, and the Gods only know how many dragons.” A low murmur went through the hall. “Our spies also tell us that Lord Tywin is hiring mercenary companies over from Essos to fight under his banner as well.” Ned moved the ice rod to point at Tarbeck Hall. “Here is where my sons left their ten thousand Northerners under the command of Maege Mormont and Galbart Glover.” Then he indicated along the Green Fork. “And here are the forty thousand Northern troops that are guarding the Kingsroad north to Moat Cailin.”

 

“All together that’s over a hundred thousand men.” Bronze Yohn called out, lifting his mug of ale happily.

 

“Indeed, the combined might of three kingdoms is a force to be reckoned with.” Ned agreed. “Here is my plan: The Lannisters have set the Riverlands afire, it’s time to dedicate resources to putting them out.” The riverlords certainly seemed to like that idea. “There will be ten parties made up of men from each of our kingdoms.” Ned explained. “They will go in all directions with the aim of scouring the Lannister marauding parties from the land. If they are successful, they will also starve the Lannister army of food as their supply lines from the West have been cut.”

 

“How many men will these parties take?” Ser Rupert Mooton, Lord William’s heir, raised his hand. Ned knew Maidenpool had been attacked by Lannister raiding parties more than once, he likely wanted revenge.

 

“Each party will be around a thousand mounted men, they will need to be fast but also have enough of men to not be an easy target.” Ned explained. “As to who will lead these groups - which I know you are wondering - not all of them have leaders yet. Ser Arthur Dayne will lead one of course.” That got a resounding approval from the lords. All knew of Arthur’s quality and of his experience dealing with the King’s wood brotherhood. “Marshal Jan Zizka of the Winter Wolves will also lead another group.” Ned added. “Those of you who remember him from Robert’s Rebellion will also recall that he has extensive experience fighting behind enemy lines with a small force.” Zizka was one of the best strategists the Winter Wolves had and the man was still a demon of a fighter, even if he had lost an eye.

 

“I shall lead one.” Ser Robar Royce stood from his bench, the young knight clearly liked the idea of playing hero to the bereaved smallfolk.

 

“Me too.” An Amazon general raised her fist.

 

“As will I.” Ser Rupert added.

 

Ned raised a hand to try and stop other eager volunteers from turning this into a contest of valour. “This can all be decided later. I would have thought, you’d be interested in what the other fifty thousand warriors we have camped outside Riverrun would be doing.” That got everyone to settle down and listen intently. “My brother Benjen will fly with his sons, along with a good number of the Vale’s griffin riders to our second force along the Greenfork.” Ned indicated a path along the map. “Then he will lead them south and advance slowly onto Tywin Lannister’s position at Harrenhal. My sons will also lead thirty thousand men south from here to Acorn Hall, then east to Harrenhal.”

 

“Aye, it’s a good plan.” Lord Rarker said, even though he wasn’t shouting, his voice still boomed to the very rafters of the hall. “Come at that old cunt on two fronts.”

 

“What of the other twenty thousand?” Roose Bolton’s voice was as soft as Lord Rarker’s was boisterous, yet the hall was just as quiet when he talked. “And the ten thousand already in the Westerlands?”

 

Ned smiled and pointed at the map again with the ice rod. “Like I said, Tywin Lannister is hiring mercenaries. I think it’s a fair idea to take his gold away.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

The great army surrounding Riverrun had split off the following day. Untold thousands of men set off in all directions. Ned had led the bulk of the army into the west, to link up with Galbart Glover and Maege Mormont. Fearing Riverrun might be attacked after the armies left, Ned had ordered Lyanna, Lara, Sansa, Alysanne and Arra to guard the castle. Five dragons would be enough to deter any attacker. He hoped.

 

The plan was set, all knew their tasks. The rest of his family would scour the Riverlands of Lannisters while Ned took the jewel of the west: Lannisport and then Casterly Rock. The march west was relatively quick and unhindered. The outriders had a skirmish here and there, but it was apparent there was no true Lannister force defending the Westerlands, at least not outside of Lannisport.

 

When Ned’s forces found Mormont and Glover, they confirmed Ned’s suspicions. Their raiding had forced what Lannister men remained to coalesce at the Rock and Lannisport, where the Lannisters had been too well defended for them to attack. With Ned’s reinforcements things changed.

 

All together, Ned lead a force of around thirty thousand marching down the River road to their target. By the turn of the moon, his army had arrived outside the large curtain walls of Lannisport. Not long after that, Ned had sent a messenger with the promise of parley beyond the city walls.

 

Ned sat mounted on Fang as he waited for the master of the city to arrive at the meeting place. It was, or at least it used to be, a farmhouse. Now though, Ned looked over it’s burned and shattered remains. There was no doubt in Ned’s mind that it was destroyed to prevent his army from using it as cover if they were to storm the city. There were dozens of other huts, farmhouses, mills and the like in similar states that littered the landscape beyond the city walls.

 

Ned found himself wondering what the people who lived there thought of Lannister men coming to burn their homes down. He hoped at least they got some form of compensation. But it was unlikely. Such things were cruel and unjust, but that was the way of war. He would be forced to do the same if an army came to attack the Winter City, though he would make sure to pay the people back for the property he had destroyed.

 

A light rain had begun to fall when the Lannister riders got to the burned mill, a golden lion on a red field fluttering in the wind over head. A man in full plate, a lion and anchor emblazoned on his surcoat and no helmet rode at the head of the group. Ned guessed he was the leader when he told his men to wait at a safe distance, as Ned had already done with the Chosen Men, and continued at a canter towards him. The man rode a massive black warhorse, but it was still dwarfed by Fang. It snorted nervously as the man kept his reigns in a tight grip.

 

“I am Ser Owyn Lannister,” he introduced himself loudly and clearly. “of the Lannisport Lannisters. Master of the city.” By Ned’s reckoning, the man was closer to fifty than forty. He was balding with a blonde beard that was going grey.

 

“And I am Eddard Stark.” Ned answered. “King of the North, Riverlands and Vale.”

 

Ser Owyn’s jaw tensed. “I had not heard the Vale had joined your cause.”

 

“Our kingdoms were joined against one tyrant, why not another?”

 

Ser Owyn grunted then paused a few moments. “My oldest son rode with Ser Jaime against Riverrun. His name is Arlan.” His question went unsaid.

 

Is my son still alive?

 

It was a question no parent should ever have to ask, Ned wanted to be able to bring good news. He quickly ran through the list of hostages his sons had taken from the Kingslayer’s army. Many Lannisters had been taken prisoner, he did remember an Arlan being among them.

 

“I do recall the name.” Ned stated. “He is among the hostages being kept in Riverrun.” Though Ser Owyn did his best to mask his relief, Ned could see it in his eyes. “I think you know why I have come here with my army.” Ned cut right to it. “I mean to take this city. You can either fight or you can surrender.”

 

Think of your city and surrender, Ned prayed.

 

He well remembered King’s Landing and the pain Tywin Lannister had wrought there. Ned knew in his heart of hearts, even the most well trained of armies would run amok in Lannisport if they had to take the city by force. It was another unfortunate fact of war: It was always the innocents who suffered most.

 

“I am afraid not, your grace.” Ser Owyn responded. “My lord has ordered me to hold this city against any attackers and under no conditions am I to surrender.”

 

Ned could tell the man didn’t like what he was saying. “I have seen what happens when men run rampant through a city after taking it-”

 

“So have I.” Ser Owyn interrupted him. “I rode with Lord Tywin when he took King’s Landing. It was not a pretty sight...”

 

“That does not need to be the fate of Lannisport.” Ned said. Ser Owyn sighed as he looked at the Northern army in the distance, making camp a few hundred yards away. Snowsong stood at the head of the army, her eyes fixed on Ned’s position.

 

“We’ve met once before you know?” Ser Owyn said. “Well, met is an exaggeration. I was one of Lord Tywin’s knights standing behind him when you, Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn went to meet him after the sack.” Ned remembered it well, though he could not place Ser Owyn there. “You were furious with my lord, and for good reason i’d say. I could see your dragon aways from us and I thought to myself ‘Thank the Gods we never had to face that thing on the field…’”

 

“You still don’t have to.”

 

“My oldest son might have ridden with Ser Jaime, but my next two boys squire for Lord Tywin.” Ser Owyn said and Ned knew all talk of surrender was useless. “I have been charged with holding this city against all threats.” He said. “And that is what I mean to do.”

 

“It is a hopeless fight, Ser.” Ned told him.

 

The Lannister gave a bitter laugh. “Maybe not as hopeless as you think, we have a dozen dragons ready to defend us.”

 

Ned gave him a look. Ser Owyn’s face was stern, but his hands shook and beads of sweat dripped down his temple. The man was lying. From the information Jon had gathered from their captured dragon rider, Ned would have been surprised if Tywin Lannister had many more dragons at all. Even if any were still left in the Westerlands, the chances were they would be kept to defend Casterly Rock.

 

“Then all I can say is good luck to you, Ser.” Ned said, pitying the man and his plight.

 

“And to you.” Ser Owyn replied, before turning his mount and cantering back towards his men. Ned did the same.

 

The army camp was still in the process of being erected when he returned, though they’d made sure to place the palisades first in position first in the unlikely event that the Lannisters sally forth from the city or the Rock. The men were busy putting up tents and sharpening great wooden stakes as Ned rode through them.

 

Eventually he found his way to the large grey tent at the centre of the burgeoning camp, where the high lords and other commanders were waiting for his return. Ned dismounted Fang and entered with the Chosen Men behind him. The tent was rather crowded, all the men and women were standing around a great wooden table covered in maps of the Westerlands. They looked up when Ned entered.

 

“I take it the city won’t be taken without a fight?” Lord Bolton said, his pale eyes watching Ned.

 

“So it would seem.” Ned grunted, walking to his large chair and sitting down, Ice resting on the table. “The master of the city is a hard man and his younger sons ride with Tywin Lannister’s personal entourage so…”

 

“So either he fights to the bitter end or his sons suffer the consequences.” Tetra finished for him.

 

“Quite.”

 

“So are we to siege or storm?” Beric asked, it still surprised Ned how he looked more like his brother than a great uncle now.

 

“The ships from Rydertown should arrive in two days.” Ned had sent a letter to Mance, telling him of his plans and his need for ships if he were to take Lannisport. A fleet lead by Captain Jaymes Flint would attack the harbour and prevent resupply of the city from the sea. “Given that we are to take the Rock after Lannisport, I say we storm the city.” Ned said grimly.

 

“A siege would allow time for the Lannisters to counter attack.” Sylvie agreed. She then pulled a large map of Lannisport from beneath the pile on the table and splayed it out. “My wargs say each of the city wall’s twenty drum towers have artillery of some kind mounted on them.” She took a quill and began to mark the towers. “On the eastern gatehouse they have two luminarks. All the rest are ballista and catapults mounted on gimbals.”

 

“A strafing run on the walls with Snowsong would deal with them quickly enough.” Glabard Glover suggested.

 

“I do not wish to use my dragon if I can avoid it.” Ned told him. “For one thing, I want the city to still be standing when we take it and for another, if they do have dragons I want Snowsong free and able to deal with them.”

 

“And you are sure they have none?” Asked Bronze Yohn.

 

“Yes.” Ned answered. “Tywin could only have so many dragons.”

 

“And our scouts have seen no sign of any.” Sylvie added.

 

“So if we aren’t using dragons then we should have the giants hurl their stones and loose their arrows at the artillery.” Donmar Dhalark suggested. “We have a hundred of them, that should be enough to smash their artillery to smithereens.”

 

“Unless they’re protected by magic.” Yennefer interjected.

 

“Then i’m sure the greatest mages in Westeros would make use of their talents destroy those protections for us.” Lord Dhalark responded.

 

“We have ladders aplenty and will have finished both the siege towers on the morrow.” Dorrk said, sitting on a higher chair so he could see the maps on the table. Though the dwarves that were marching in Ned’s army were soldiers, they were all extremely gifted craftsmen. They fashioned wood, stone and metal faster than any man could hope to. There were no trees within two miles of Lannisport so they had started building their siege weapons a week ago. “We’ve also finished the great armoured ram.” That got a good reaction from the lords present.

 

“As a master builder, where would you say is the weakest point of the city walls?” Ned asked Dorrk. The dwarf looked over the maps for a second, stroking his beard.

 

“There are two gatehouses to the city, to the east on the River road and to the south the Sea road. Both of them are formidable. I hate to say it, but my westermen kin do good work.” All knew there was no love lost between the Dwarves of the North and the Dwarves of the Westerlands. The fact that Dorrk was willing to complement them said much for their quality. “Here.” Dorrk pointed to the left of the eastern gatehouse. “The greatest gap between the towers is here and the land is relatively even. This is the best place to attack. If we are to storm the city that is.”

 

“We are.” Ned said. “Everyone should prepare, we shall attack the city after the Ryder ships arrive.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

After a restless night Ned woke to a cold grey morning, with mist coming in from the Sunset sea. The grass of the fields outside the city were moist with dew. It was a grim morning in truth and Ned knew it would only get grimmer.

 

Not many hours after the sun rose, he received the news that all of their siege engines had been completed and their magical protections were being applied. It was then he gave the order for the army to ready themselves.

 

Ned took care as he donned his armour, a full plate set of black Uru, lined with glowing blue runes and a Wolf’s head helm. Deciding that his Uru arm needed no such protection, Ned decided to forgo the armour for it. The look was passing strange when he saw himself in his tent mirror as servants but his armour on for him. His whole body was encased in metal but for one naked arm. Ned decided to dispel the arm’s illusion so his men didn’t think he’d gone mad. The illusory flesh on his metal arm shimmered away before Ned’s very eyes, leaving only the cold hard Uru.

 

When Ned left his tent, Ice and Foesmasher on his belt, Fang was waiting for him, just as armoured as Ned was. Ned mounted up and urged his wolf towards the middle of his army lines where the other lords awaited him.

 

The men were arrayed in columns, each with long heavy ladders resting in the grass beside them. Giants were standing with great wooden walls made from tree logs. They would shield the men from the hail of arrows that would rain on them from the city walls.

 

Beyond them, standing tall in front of the army were three immense structures. Two wheeled siege towers stood fifty feet tall and fifteen feet across. They were made from felled trees, given iron plating and covered in rawhides. Each tower had two Giants inside to push them along the ground. They would be shielded by the tower’s thick walls and would be able to push the towers much quicker than men could.

 

The third structure was a great covered battering ram. Three trees had been felled, stripped and lashed together to form a ram that needed the strength of four Giants together to be moved. An angled roof that stood on four posts had been made for the great ram to hang from and to protect the Giants from attacks from above.

 

All three of the siege engines had been given some form of magical wards by the mages in Ned’s army to give some more durability. They made from an intimidating sight. Ned could only imagine what those on the city walls were feeling knowing they had to defend against them.

 

The men were mostly quiet as they were forming up the battle lines. Some were praying, others were getting a few practice swings in, archers were warming up their bow strings. There was a tension in the air.

 

“The city will be a bitch to take.” Harper said next to him. Ned could hardly disagree with him.

 

Sylvie rode up to the group of lords. “Our wargs have seen the Ryder fleet. They’ve passed by Feastfires. They’ll be attacking Lannisport in an hour.”

 

Ned sent off a silent prayer to the Old Gods.

 

“To the task then.”

 

The warhorns began to blare. Dozens, then hundreds filling the air. The sound shook Ned in his bones. It was so loud, he thought the sound might cause Casterly Rock to crumble and fall into the sea. Then the pipes began to play and Ned’s army advanced.

 

First came a volley of arrows taller than Ned shot from Giant’s bows. Then came the larger, heavier boulders that other Giants had thrown. All found their targets on the walls of Lannisport, smashing most of the balistas and catapults to kindling before they even got a shot off.

 

A great beam of golden light spewed forth from the only remaining Luminark on the walls, catching one of the siege towers on the side as it was slowly rolled forwards. Beric’s in the other one, Ned had to remind himself. The old Witcher had wanted to be first on the walls at Lannisport.

 

Given it’s magical protection, the tower was only knocked to the side a bit. The great wooden tower’s gargantuan weight and the Giants holding it down stopped the whole thing from tipping over thankfully. The protection was strong, but it wouldn’t last forever and the tower still had two hundred yards to cross.

 

“I told them to take out those fucking Luminarks first.” Ned said, then turned to a mounted messenger who was riding with the lords. “Tell the Giants the Luminarks are the main threat, the other artillery can come later.”

 

The messenger nodded then sped off on his horse.

 

The columns of the vanguard were still slowly marching forward in front of Ned as he waited in reserve with the lords and the rest of the army. Arrows and stones hurled from catapults behind the city walls pelted the great wooden barriers that Giants used to protect the large groups of men. Every now and then, a stone or an arrow would sail over the shield and catch a few men. Ned could only watch sternly as the few wounded and dying were hurried back to the main force.

 

Many more will be bloodied before the day is out.

 

Before long all of the Lannister artillery on the city walls had been destroyed, to the raucous cheers of his men. The last Luminark was destroyed half way through charging up another shot, causing a large explosion of golden energies that fried all the Lannister soldiers in a twenty foot radius.

 

The covered ram and the siege towers were at the head of the charge and they were the first to make contact with the city walls. The Giants on the ram began to swing it into the city’s main gates, the sound was so loud Ned thought they might be able to hear it back in Riverrun. The city defenders dropped stones and poured hot oil onto the ram to drive them away. However the cover of the ram was thick and all their attacks were mostly muted.

 

The siege towers, being much larger and heavier came next, making contact with the walls and dropping their ramps as men poured out onto the raparts. In the distance, on the great blue sea beyond Lannisport, Ned spied the Northern ships sailing into position in the harbour, beginning to launch stones from their catapults.

 

“The battle’s going well so far.” Galbart Glover said next to Ned, sitting atop his horse.

 

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Ned replied.

 

The columns of men carrying siege ladders finally reached the walls and began to climb them. Those that didn’t use the ladders funnelled into the siege towers, trying to find the fastest way to get into the fight.

 

The sounds of clashing metal and splintering wood drifted from the city. Men dying and baying for blood, homes being destroyed by artillery and the people screaming as they ran for cover. All of it being drowned out by the repeated hammering of the ram on the main gate.

 

Very few men were losing arrows down on Ned’s army now, so he lead the advance at a leisurely pace towards the main gate as the Giants hammered at it with their massive ram. The golden inlay on the wooden doors shone with magical energy on every hit. Eventually the wards would fail and after that, the door then they’d finally be in the city.

 

“Captain Flint must have sunk more than a dozen Lannister ships by now.” Sylvie nodded in the direction of the harbour.

 

“I almost feel sorry for that Lannister in charge.” Harper said. “He never really stood a chance.”

 

“We should reinforce the left siege tower.” Lord Dhalark offered. “They seem to be pressed on their flank.”

 

Ned cast his eye to the city walls and saw lord Donmar was correct. “Take as many as you think you need and reinforce them then.” He gave his permission. The Dhalark lord thanked him then sped away, calling for his men to follow him.

 

The sound of splintering wood split the air, Ned turned and saw the gate had begun to split apart under the force of the ram’s blows. He lead his reserves closer to the main gate, readying them for the inevitable charge into the city. After three more blows from the ram, the gate was held up by little more than bent metal hinges and hope.

 

The ram was hauled away and Ned sent three heavily armoured Giants with great axes and scythes to force the gate open and be the first to charge in. Ned lowered the visor of his helmet, drew Ice and raised it high, signalling to those behind him they would charge soon. Ned heard thousands of weapons being raised behind him. With one last great heave, the Giants pushed the gate so hard it fell off what remained of it’s hinges, clattering to the ground, splintering what remained of the wood.

 

First the Giants yelled and charged, then Ned did, then the army behind him. The Lannister men had formed a rough semicircle on the other side of the gate. In an effort to attack any who breach the gate on all sides.

 

Alas it wasn’t so effective against rampaging Giants.

 

They charged headlong into the enemy spears, turning soldiers into bloody smears and bent metal as they went. Ned was quickly after them, riding Fang into the fray. A blue layer of ice covered his sword as he swung it down on the Lannister defenders, hewing them into pieces with every swing. Ned did not slow down once he was among his enemy, he lead the charge on deeper into the city.

 

“We make for the harbour!” He roared as Fang trampled some Golden legionnaire.

 

Lannisport was certainly a well-made city. Ned would have been enjoying the scenery if he hadn’t been in the heat of battle. The streets he raced down were wide and paved neatly, with tiled roofed houses lining them.

 

Eventually Ned came across a haphazardly made barricade with a few score defenders. He threw Foesmasher into the barricade and the hammer lived up to it’s name. It smashed a hole right through the barricade, turning a good few of it’s defenders into red mist in the process.

 

Ned rode through the hole ready to attack but was tackled from his mount by a creature he assumed was a man at first. It had jumped off the remains of the barricade to catch him. The ground hit him hard and he rolled with his attacker, eventually ripping the thing’s head off with his metal hand.

 

Ned quickly rose to his feet and realised something. Multiple somethings in fact. He was surrounded by a few score of things that looked almost like beastmen. And apart from Fang, who was growling and edging closer to Ned after he’d realised Ned had fallen off, he was completely alone. Ned silently cursed the speed of a direwolf as he held Ice and Foesmasher in his hands.

 

They all looked at him with dark beady little eyes. One roared, Ned thought it sounded like an angry seal, then charged at him. These creatures were big, most of them clearing seven feet tall. They were also broad as bull trolls and bulging with muscle, something Ned could plainly see as they appeared to wear very little armour.

 

The first attacker swung at Ned with a jagged sword of black iron. Ned blocked it with Ice, shattering the blade, then bashed the creatures head in with his hammer. Then the next came. And the next. The fight became a blur to Ned. He and Fang were beset on all sides, a seemingly endless tide of these savage attackers came for them. Ned hacked and slashed and bashed through them, their blows ringing off his armour.

 

He learned a lot about the creatures, whatever they were. Firstly they were incredibly strong and secondly they seemed to be able to endure any pain. This was made apparent when Ned stabbed one in the gut and it only reacted by roaring and punching Ned in the helmet.

 

He couldn’t tell how many he and Fang carved through. Fifty? A hundred? It made no difference. The wolf inside him was woken and he was drunk on bloodlust and his first real battle since King’s Landing.

 

Ice and Foesmasher were vibrating in his hands as he used both weapons together. That had been how the hammer had been designed. The two weapons were symbiotic. When used together they would enhance each other’s abilities. Both weapons were covered in ice and lightning coiled around them as their runes glowed brightly. Every slash with Ice caused a shockwave that would leave deep gouges in the paved street and carve through stone walls and houses thirty feet away.

 

When their numbers seemed to be waning, one tried to shoot him full of arrows. Ned caught the first one in his fist and deflected the other two with ice before beheading the archer with Ice.

 

The ground was soaked in their black, oily blood when Sylvie happened upon him. “We were fucking wondering where you’d run off to.” She admonished him. “You know none of us can keep up with Fang don’t you?”

 

“I thought you all were behind me.” Ned said tiredly, looking over the remains of his attackers, trying to figure out what they were. Now he wasn’t being attacked, Ned could take their features in properly. Their skin was a reddish black. Their facial features were exaggerated with mouths full of large crooked fangs and they had pointed ears almost like a Child of the Forest.

 

“They were all over the city.” Sylvie said disdainfully, poking the corpse Ned was looking at with her sword. “They’re some kind of… Uruk.”

 

Abomination, Ned knew the meaning of the word in the Old Tongue. “Where did these creatures come from?” He asked.

 

Sylvie looked uneasy. “I have a sneaking suspicion I know who made them, but I will need to check.”

 

“How goes the battle?” Ned asked, changing the subject to something more important.

 

“The fighting was hard, especially with the Uruks.” Sylvie answered. “But we’ve taken the harbour, the walls and most of the city baring a few fortified pockets here and there. The soldiers are running rampant.” She said, sadly. “They’re taking most of what they can from the richer parts of the city, I imagine they’ll be looting their way through here before the day is done. Beric is rounding up the stragglers. Only the city’s fortress remains. It’s barely more than a tower and walled courtyard. Seems Ser Owyn Lannister is holed up there with maybe a couple hundred men left.”

 

Ned nodded grimly. Remembering Ser Owyn’s words to him. The man would die before he surrendered. “I think it’s time we rejoined the lords then.”

 

They found the lords quickly, gathered in the main square. Harper nearly punched Ned for putting himself in harms way by leaving them in the dust. “One of these days i’ll have to put a collar around your neck and hold you with a chain.” The Chosen Man fumed at him.

 

Ned found himself thinking of a certain role-play Mellario had introduced to him years ago in Winterfell, but he pushed thoughts of his lover down.

 

“Your Grace, the city is yours.” Lord Bolton declared and the other lords cheered.

 

“Not quite yet…” Ned killed the mood. “The city keep still holds out.”

 

“That holdfast’ll be taken within the hour-” Greatjon laughed.

 

“A message!” Someone called out, riding towards them at breakneck speed before he brought his horse to a skidding halt. “At the camp we received word of a dragon attack.”

 

Cries of “Where?!” and “When!?” and “Who!?” met the messenger.

 

“They say it was Snowfall!” The messenger shouted.

 

Fuck.

Notes:

Happy easter!

It’s been months since we last talked and I hope to reduce the waiting time between chapters in the future. This chapter was a fun one to write, we’re nearing the end of the War of Five Kings now. I wonder where Cleaton attacked?

Until next time on When Winter Comes!

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Chapter 31: Chapter 26

There was a rush back to the main camp as the messenger only had parts of the full picture. Ned had to tell himself under his breath that there was no way Riverrun would have been attacked. His wives were safe. They were too far from Harrenhal and too well defended to be threatened by Tywin’s dragons. Ned only half believed his muttered words but he had to keep his composure in front of his lords.

 

“I’m told there was an attack.” Ned announced his presence as he entered the camp’s main tent, a great oak table standing in the centre of it.

 

“Yes, your grace.” Feldan said. He was a tall thin Druid who served as their method of communication. The Druid’s long pale blonde hair fell over his leafy green robes in a tight braid as he held a letter in hand. The letter with news of the attack. It was handed over quickly and Ned read through it at speed.

 

His heart leapt when he saw that his sons had been attacked by a Lannister vanguard and three dragons lead by Snowfall at Acorn Hall. Something else entirely happened when Ned read that Snowfall had also brought Jon and Moonhowler down to earth.

 

Ned’s eyes refused to move past the sentence.

 

The world slipped away from Ned and he only saw the horrors he would visit upon his accursed bastard of a nephew and Tywin Lannister. Such things would have made the Bolton flesh weevers of old shiver in fear.

 

Ned was only brought from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Your Grace?” Feldan asked.

 

It was then that Ned realised in his cold fury, he had frozen the letter solid, rendering it useless. He could feel the eyes of his lords on him as he grit his teeth.

 

“Apologies.” Ned forced himself to say as he tossed the frozen letter onto the table. “What did the rest of the letter say?”

 

“Well, a raven arrived at the Golden Tooth three days ago saying your sons were attacked as they marched to Harrenhal.” Feldan started. “They were set upon at Acorn Hall by Lannister knights and three dragons-”

 

“One of them being Snowfall…” Ned finished for him. Snowfall was twice the size of Moonhowler and Gnasher at least. Together against a lone Snowfall they might have had a chance, but with help… their chances would have been slim.

 

“Indeed. We know that Snowfall targeted Moonhowler and eventually brought the dragon down to the battlefield.”

 

“Is my son still alive?” Ned forced himself to say.

 

“Yes, Prince Jon is alive and healing from wounds he earned when he was thrown from his saddle.” Ned felt the tension in his shoulders ease, but just a little. “In truth, it seems Moonhowler was the more injured of the two.” Feldan continued. “An arm bone was broken by the impact with the ground and will take time to heal.”

 

“Not if the Amazon waters are brought to treat the dragon.” Ned stated.

 

“Ah yes, I had forgotten.” The Druid smiled. “The Lannister vanguard pulled back to Harrenhal as quickly as they had attacked. They knew they did not have the numbers for a pitch battle, but they wanted to hurt the dragons and bleed the ground forces.”

 

“Seems they got their wish.” Ned said, grimly.

 

“Are we to turn back to the east?” A voice came from behind Ned, one of his lords.

 

“The Ryder ships can hold Lannisport well enough.” Another voice added.

 

“We will tend to our wounded and secure the city.” Ned ordered. “Then I will make my decision.” With that he strode from the tent, Fang at his heels. The other lords there dispersed quickly, they may have had questions but Ned had given them an order and they would carry it out.

 

Ned paced across the wet mud paths that crisscrossed their camp. In the distance, he could see smoke rising from fires in the city. Comparatively the damage hadn’t been so bad, Ned mused to himself. Most of it was from the ship-mounted catapults that the Ryder fleet had used to attack the city.

 

Ned stood quietly for a time. He could hear prisoners being taken to makeshift cells and their wounded being brought to Druids and other healers. A familiar smell caught Ned’s nose and he turned to see Beric and Sylvie standing behind him, with Roach off to the side sitting with Fang.

 

“You called those things ‘Uruk’.” He looked to Sylvie.

 

“Yes…” She answered tentatively.

 

“Whatever they are, they’re strong bastards.” Beric rested his hand on his hilt. “I saw one rip the head off a Winter Wolf when we were fighting on the walls.”

 

Ned was shocked to hear that, even a King’s Guard wouldn’t be able to claim that feat. Unless they had reacted particularly well to their enhancements. “You know something about these creatures.” Ned turned to Sylvie.

 

“A long time ago, before you were born.” She nodded at Beric. “In the time of Jonnel ‘One-Eye’ the Rectoress of the Palace of Magic was a Child of the Forest named Aleena. Like Tetra, she specialised in Witcher mutations and other assorted enhancements.” Sylvie explained as Ned and Beric listened intently. “Eventually she got it into her head to create a new way to make soldiers for the Starks.”

 

“And she made Uruks?” Ned asked.

 

“They looked much different back then.” Sylvie said. “But yes. They were incredibly strong, they felt no pain and would fight and fight until they died. She took her idea to the Stark of Starks and he allowed her to experiment. Only a few were ever made, the program was quickly halted when it became known how monstrous the process of transformation was. For a time that was it for the ‘Uruk’, until it was discovered that Aleena had taken to perfecting her process on the beggars of the Winter City. She hoped to create a method of enhancement that the Starks would approve.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“When her crimes were discovered she was banished from the North, never to return and all her research was destroyed. She was sent on a ship to Essos and that was the last we had heard of her.”

 

“And now she has returned to work under Tywin Lannister.” Beric laughed bitterly. “It seems he has no end of secrets hidden under Casterly Rock.”

 

“Have Tetra and Yennefer run tests on these Uruks.” Ned ordered.

 

“They already are.” Beric answered. “The battle wasn’t even over before Tetra was taking samples from the fallen.”

 

“Well she’s always been industrious.” Ned chuckled sourly.

 

He looked over the city again and beyond it the fifteen Galleons and a few dozen smaller ships that made up the Ryder fleet sent to take the city. All of it standing in the shadow of Casterly Rock in the distance. He frowned. “I’ve made my decision.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

“Some of us will have to stay behind.” Ned announced to his lords as they stood around the large oak table in their camp’s main tent. The day had gone by so fast Ned hadn’t even removed his armour from the battle yet, still stained with the blood of his fallen foes. “While I lead our forces back to the east-.”

 

“The battle’s not yet won!” The quarrelsome Roose Ryswell raised his voice.

 

“Aye the Lannisters still hold the city keep.” Ser Harry Hornwood added, the tall thin knight leaning against one of the tent polls.

 

“And what if the knights of Casterly Rock should sally forth and try to retake their city?” Another voice asked, but Ned could not place it.

 

“Heh, most of us hold no fear for southern knights, Woolfield.” The Greatjon laughed, others joined him as the Woolfield Ned still couldn’t name turned red with anger.

 

Ned held up his hand before words became crossed blades. “Gentlemen I wasn’t finished talking.” The rest of the lords settled down at that. “The Ryder fleet brought just over eight thousand men to take the city under the command of Captain Jaymes Flint.” A rumble of approval from the lords went through the tent. “Our army will supplement that with another seven thousand. That leaves just under sixteen thousand men to hold this city and subdue the city’s fort. Which itself only has around a hundred men.” Ned added. “Our remaining twenty-three thousand will march east to link up with our other forces and surround Tywin Lannister as he moves to retake this city.”

 

Some might not have agreed with his plan, but they were going to follow it. The eight thousand were taken from Glover, Mormont, Rarker and Nord forces and Ned picked Galbart Glover to lead them. He was a steady man, if unexceptional, a good balance to Captain Flint’s tactical brilliance but more chaotic attitude. Together they would be able to hold Lannisport against attacks from land and sea.

 

Once the men were arrayed and hostages secured, Ned ordered the men to break camp and begin the march back to Riverrun along the River road. Not content to flounder on foot marching for weeks until they made their way home, Ned mounted Snowsong and took her east. Beric had been left with the command of the army and Ned knew there was little threat to them left in the Westerlands.

 

While a journey on foot would have taken weeks, Ned saw Riverrun again within days. It looked strangely smaller without the great mass of an army camp surrounding it. Given the large amount of space now available, Ned decided to land Snowsong south of the Tumblestone so he would not need to cross the river on a boat. His mount touched down on the muddy grass with all the grace you could expect from an ancient winged behemoth.

 

Ned could hear orders being given to open the gate and lower the drawbridge as he clambered down from his dragon’s immense saddle. The thing weighed more than three horses and required a special crane to attach it to Snowsong. When Ned finally got down the saddle’s rope ladder, he heard a voice calling out to him from a few paces back.

 

“Your Grace!” It was a woman’s voice calling to him, one he recognised. Brienne. Ned turned and was stunned to silence.

 

While her voice was unchanged, Brienne of Tarth looked like a whole new woman. Her shoulder-length hair that had once been straw-like and brittle now seemed like spun gold healthier than ever. Her face looked decidedly more feminine though she still kept her freckles. Her white teeth were now straight and her lips were less swollen.

 

Ned did notice that Brienne’s brilliant blue eyes were the same, though they shone with a newfound confidence. Though it was difficult to see in her enamelled blue full plate armour, the lady knight seemed taller and more muscular than before too.

 

“The uh… Amazons let me bathe in the magic waters they brought with them…” She said sheepishly, her shoulders hunching slightly as a blush crept up her cheeks. It seemed Brienne’s new looks had not changed her mannerisms much.

 

“I…” Ned began to collect himself, it was far from the first time he’d seen a beautiful woman, he should be better than this. “You seem to have taken to them well.” Ned eventually found the words.

 

Brienne gave a small smile, it reminded him of her smile when Renly pinned her King’s Guard cloak on her shoulders. Then she grimaced. “The new attention has taken some getting used to.”

 

Ned chuckled. “Yes, I can imagine you having to beat the suitors off with a stick.”

 

“Oh no, I’ve not had to resort to violence yet.” Brienne responded matter-of-factly.

 

“A joke...” Ned smiled. “Though don’t be afraid to if some grow too presumptuous with their advances.”

 

“My new Amazon sisters would be all too happy to help me.” Brienne began. “I should say before we go further, I have orders from your wife, Queen Catelyn. She said to inform you that she and your other wives have all given birth to healthy babes and that you should meet your new children at your earliest convenience as there are a great many of them.”

 

Ned was striding forth before Brienne could finish her sentence. The tall woman had to quicken her pace to keep up with him. She told him other news as they made their way to Riverrun’s birthing chamber. Lord Hoster Tully had died three days ago and Edmure was now the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Hoster’s sickness was apparently too advanced for the Amazon’s waters to heal him. They could only make his passing less painful, a small comfort, but better than nothing.

 

Ned’s heart ached for his wife who had just lost her father though his mood was lifted when Brienne told him the other news: Rhaenys had given birth to a boy and a girl. Ned was nearly skipping the rest of the way to the bedchambers that his wives now occupied.

 

Passing the Ice Guard standing at the door, leaving Brienne with them, Ned entered the room to see four large beds arrayed side by side occupied by his wives and Rhaenys. Robb, Jon, Alysanne and Sansa were there as well, standing around the beds.

 

“Ned!” “Father!” Eight voices called to him at once.

 

“I’m sorry I was not here.” Was all Ned said as he strode across the room to the foot of the beds. His eyes were fixed on the numerous small bundles that everyone in the room seemed to be exchanging.

 

Gods, there are so many… He thought to himself.

 

It was true, there were eight babes in total, each person was holding one. It was some comfort that at least two of them weren’t his children. “Come meet the newest additions to the family, love.” Ash reached a hand out to him. Her bed was on the leftmost side of the line so Ned could go to her.

 

“…When?”

 

“Elia went to the birthing bed four days ago.” Cat began. “Ash and I had our time two days later. Little Rhaenys had her water break early last night and her babes were out by the Hour of the Wolf.”

 

“A sign from the Gods.” Robb said proudly. “They favour Starks born during the Hour of the Wolf.”

 

“We can decide the names of our babes later.” Ash said as she held her bundle up to Ned. “This little one screamed harder than any of the others when Cat finally delivered her.” Ned reached out his hand and ran a finger over the newborn’s head, a scant few red hairs already sprouting from it.

 

“She screamed more than even Arya did.” Cat chuckled.

 

“Rhaenys is holding her sister at the moment.” Ash added and Ned looked over to Rhaenys who held an identical babe in her arms, though her hairs were dark.

 

“Two daughters?” Ned asked his redhaired wife.

 

“Yes.” She smiled. “I’ve already given you four healthy sons. Seems only fair we have four daughters too.”

 

“And quite right you are.” Ned said before kissing the top of Ash’s head and walking around her bead so he could reach Cat. “And who is this little one?” Ned reached for the babe nursing at Cat’s breast.

 

“A hungry little boy.” Cat giggled as the babe drank from her greedily.

 

“Just like his mother.” Ash laughed then stilled. “…I was thinking of naming him Hoster…” Cat suddenly looked at Ash with glassy eyes, the words not forming on her lips. It was one of the moments Ned was so glad his wives loved each other as much as he loved them.

 

“Little Hoster…” Cat said as she stroked the babe’s cheek then turned back to Ash. “Thank you.”

 

“What are wives for?” Ash smiled then reached out and linked hands with Cat.

 

“I think it’s a fine name for a fine young boy.” Ned added.

 

“And his sister, my sister, is even finer.” Alysanne declared, sitting down on Cat’s bed next to Ned with another dark-haired babe in her arms.

 

“The Gods have certainly blessed us.” Ned said, gazing upon his new children and his children of two decades.

 

“Speaking of blessed, have a look at our Martell mother’s brood.” Ned heard Jon say. He was standing with Robb and Sansa, each of them holding a small bundle of yellow. Ned rose from the bed and went to them, all three of the babes shared Elia’s colouring. The thought made him happy.

 

“How was the birth?” He asked, concerned at Elia’s previous history with pregnancy.

 

“Surprisingly easy.” Elia said in disbelief. Ned’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

 

“Yes, you bitch.” Ash said, with no real bite to it. “Three babes one after the other and all done inside an hour. Months of worrying and it was all fine.” She said jealously.

 

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Elia giggled, beaming. Ned could not stop himself from smiling too. “Alas, I have not yet decided on names for them all.”

 

“They will be perfect no matter what name they bear.” Ned said then kissed the head of each of the babes.

 

“Sansa cried for an hour when she held one of the babes for the first time.” Jon chuckled.

 

“Fuck you!” Sansa raised her voice in a very un-ladylike fashion. “You cried more.”

 

“Did not!”

 

“Did too!”

 

“Children…” Ned said softly and they quieted down. “Have some care for your little sibling’s ears.”

 

“While these little bundles of joy aren’t your siblings, they are our grandchildren. So have a care for them too.” Elia said as Ned made his way to her. She held them both in her arms as if they were made of the most precious gems imaginable. They were a girl and a boy.

 

“We were thinking Aegon and Lyarra.” Rhaenys said, with tears in her eyes. That gave Ned pause for a moment. One name from a son he never held and another from a mother he had not held since he was eight.

 

“…They’re perfect.” Ned said, hoping to mask the strain in his voice.

 

The birth of a single child was always an emotional time for a family. The birth of eight… Many happy tears were shed in that room where they could forget the horrors of the wars beyond their castle. In that moment they were all content.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Much as Ned would have liked nothing more than to be with his family and hold his newborn babes in his arms, there were matters he had to attend to. Just another reason for him to curse the war that ravaged the kingdoms.

 

Ned was sitting at his desk in his solar, with his wives and children in the bedchamber adjoining it. Reports from scouts and letters from the North were piled in front of him. It was something for Ned to do as his army wouldn’t arrive from the Westerlands for at least a week as they had to travel by land rather than on a dragon’s wings.

 

The first papers Ned looked through were reports from the cohorts he’d sent to scour the Lannister marauders from the Riverlands. Thankfully all seemed to be going well on that front. Arthur had written saying how his band had taken a stronghold off a group of sellswords that Lord Tywin had hired to raid and pillage.

 

Zizka reported he’d drawn a sizeable group of marauding Golden Legionaries into a trap and massacred the lot of them. Others informed that they’d relieved Riverlander holdfasts that had been besieged or were fortifying towns and villages from raids with the help of local Knights and Men-at-arms.

 

Ned looked up from his letters when he heard someone at the door.

 

“Enter.” He called out, before they could even knock.

 

An Ice Guard, Hallis Mollen entered. “Pardon Your Grace,” he bowed in the doorway. “The Red Woman has been asking after you. She says she has important information.” The man, like most seemed half afraid of the Red Priestess, even as she was shackled in Dimeritium.

 

Ned sighed. “Did she say anything else?”

 

Hallis shook his head.

 

Ned mulled over going to see the Red Woman again. After his first illicit visit, he had gone back a few more times. She seemed throughly addicted to him. Ned would usually question such a thought but for the mad, lustful glint in her eye when he talked with her.

 

Melisandre had told Ned she could see things in the fires. What is, what was and even what might be. She wielded power, in the fight for the lives of his family and kingdom, Ned would use what advantages he could get. Even if he did not trust them completely.

 

“If she’s so insistent, it must be important.” Ned said, before rising from his seat, donning Ice and Foesmasher on his belt. There was a quick visit to the bedchambers to see his wives and the babes sleeping soundly then Ned left, following Hallis.

 

“She been giving you any trouble?” Ned asked as they walked together.

 

“No, Your Grace.” The Mollen replied. “But I do wish she’d put her robes on again. My Nyssa would be right pissed if she found out i’d seen such a lovely looking woman in her Nameday clothes.”

 

Ned laughed at that. “She’ll not hear it from me.” They talked on as they walked through the castle bailey to the door that lead to the cells, then down the dark passageway. Eventually they got to their destination where three more Ice Guard stood on duty. All bowed when they saw Ned approaching.

 

“I’ve come to see the prisoner.” Was all Ned said.

 

The guards quickly went about opening the door for him. Ned entered the cell to see Melisandre sitting crosslegged on her splayed out red silks, as naked as she was when he left her after their first fuck. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at him warmly.

 

“Your Grace.” She said, rising to her feet almost too gracefully. She was completely unashamed by her nudity and Ned could hardly blame her as his eyes drifted over the Red Priestess’ ample curves.

 

“You know I can have new clothes brought to you. I assume you’ll only accept red.”

 

“Thank you, but no.” She replied. “I am quite comfortable as I am. My body pleases you and that is all I wish to do.” The adoration on her face almost matched that of a Child of the Forest.

 

“The guard who brought me to you said it would make him more comfortable.” Ned admitted, only to hear the muffled voices of the other guards admonishing Hallis from the other side of the door.

 

“He seems comfortable enough when he stares at my breasts as he brings me food.” Melisandre gave a sly smile. “But that is not why I have called for you.”

 

“You have ‘Information’.”

 

“You will be fighting dragons in your near future.” She said.

 

“Such penetrating insight.” Ned responded, dryly.

 

“Dragons are fire made flesh. Many a man has died in their flames.”

 

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose, if this was all she had to tell him he would be very annoyed indeed. “Then I will avoid them as best I can.”

 

“You also have the blood of the dragon running through your veins.” Melisandre continued. “Many times over as I recall.”

 

“Yes…” Ned narrowed his eyes at her. Targaryens had married Starks multiple times in the past, Ned’s own Great Grandmother had been Shiera Seastar.

 

Melisandre reached out a hand and pressed it against Ned’s chest. “The blood of the dragon flows in your veins. As does its fire. Your own son is a Firebender is he not?”

 

“He is.” Ned answered.

 

“I have seen a vision in my dreams.” She stated. “I know how to awaken the fire in your veins, just as the ice was awoken by the Trial of Winter.”

 

Ned was astonished at her words, but he was also incredulous, he had not heard of such a thing being done before. “How?”

 

Melisandre only smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I’ll show you.”

 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Ned asked as he leaned just out of her reach. In spite of how often Ned had enjoyed her bountiful body, he had little trust for the Red Woman. There was every possibility she was seducing him to bend him to her will. Ned liked to think he was made of sterner stuff than that, yet he supposed many other men had thought that in the past too…

 

“You are my Lord’s Champion.” Melisandre responded. “You will help lead this world into a new age of prosperity.”

 

Ned raised an eyebrow in passive amusement. “I don’t follow your God.”

 

“You follow his path whether you acknowledge it or not. You might not believe in him, but he believes in you.” She was pulling him closer again.

 

“I will be able to bend fire?” Ned asked her as she kissed along his jaw.

 

“Yes.” She answered.

 

“If I can’t I shall hand you over to Tetra.” Ned said as he began removing his shirt.

 

 

—————————

 

 

As Ned left Melisandre’s cell, he strangely felt little different. A little warmer perhaps but that was hardly unsurprising. Their lovemaking had been almost exactly the same as every other time, barring of course the High Valyrian words she cried out as she rode him, the gem on her choker glowing bright. Ned had ordered the Ice Guard into the room when she began chanting. He told them to fill her with arrows if she tried to take control of him.

 

Thankfully it didn’t come to that.

 

Ned was of a mind to find Yennefer and Triss so he could ask them to run tests to see if he could truly bend fire now. He was half way through Riverrun’s guest quarters when he turned a corner and nearly knocked a red-haired woman off her feet.

 

“A thousand apologies, my Lady.” Ned said as he stepped back to let her pass.

 

Then he saw her face.

 

Before him stood Minisa Tully, the mother of his second wife. In all truth however, she could be mistaken for Cat’s sister as Ned saw her now. She looked even younger than she did when Ned had first seen her in Harrenhal all those years ago.

 

“Gods…” Ned swore, gazing into her two bright blue eyes as they stared up at him.

 

“Queen Hippolyta gave me permission to use their Amazon waters once she found out I had been your lover…” Minisa explained. “It’s wonderful, in truth. I haven’t felt this good in decades.” She laughed.

 

“I…” Ned could hardly find the words, such was his surprise.

 

Minisa only placed a long finger on his lips. “Shhh, come now. This room is empty.” She lead him through a door. They walked into a medium sized guest bedchamber. The room was relatively bare. A bed big enough for two was at the opposite wall, some cupboards stood next to it and a small table and chair faced the room’s one window.

 

“I would ask you not to speak, Your Grace.” Minisa said as she walked to the centre of the room. “For I have had some time to think of the words I say now.” She continued. “My husband is dead. He was not the best of husbands but he could hardly be counted among the worst. Either way… I am a widow. And few care for who a widow takes into her bed.” She began to unlace the front of her dress.

 

Ned stepped forth, taking her hands in his own. “What of Cat?” He asked. Much as he desired Minisa - especially in her rejuvenated state - if Cat ordered him to, Ned would never look upon Minisa again. They had not spoken of the matter since he had returned from Themyscira. Cat had only told him that she would handle the situation in her own time. Ned was never going to press her on the subject.

 

Minisa only looked up at him and hummed. “It seems during her marriage to you, my daughter has been exposed to things that would make even the most debauched Lyseni courtesan blush. She told me she was open to the idea, especially as you will not be able to lie together while she heals from the birthing.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Just so long as you tell her about it afterwards…”

 

That was all Ned needed to hear.

 

Minisa pulled him down into a deep, passionate kiss. The kiss of a woman who hadn’t been truly aroused in decades. She was so fervent she nearly took Ned’s breath away. On instinct, one of his hands went to her hip, the other went to her hair. Cat always enjoyed when he ran his hands through her red locks, something her mother seemed to share, by her pleasant humming.

 

“Gods, it’s been too long.” She confessed between kisses. “I’ve thought about bedding you for years after Harrenhal.” Ned would have been lying if he said he hadn’t thought of her occasionally too. Though he had Cat in his bed to distract him. “You were the best fuck I ever had.”

 

“Happy to be of service.” Ned chuckled as she began to unbutton his tunic.

 

They undressed each other quickly, Ned nearly ripping Minisa’s dress as he divested her of it. They both stood for a few moments, taking each other in. After a dip in the Amazon waters, Minisa had become a new woman. She was in her sixties but had the body of a woman a third her age. Her matronly figure was so similar to Cat’s, Ned thought he might have trouble telling their bodies apart. Both were slim and blessed with truly abundant curves with a light dusting of freckles over their pale skin. Minisa’s hips were wide and inviting, and her breasts were titanic in size. Ned’s mouth nearly watered at the sight of them.

 

Minisa only laughed breathlessly, noting Ned’s swelling manhood. “Cat did say you had a very strong liking for breasts.” She raised them both up to his gaze.

 

“You and your daughter have the most perfect breasts I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.” Ned answered her. “It’s only right they be appreciated.”

 

Minisa smiled then. Her face reminded Ned so much of Cat, though perhaps it was a little longer, her jaw thinner. Both were still incredibly beautiful, something Ned wanted to appreciate as he crossed the distance between them and took Minisa’s naked form into his arms, kissing her again. He felt her smaller body against his own, skin on skin. Her soft curves pressing against his hard muscle, his cock pressed against her stomach.

 

They kissed and caressed over to the room’s bed, before flopping down on the soft sheets. Ned’s mouth left Minisa’s and began to kiss down her body. First her neck, then her breasts, making sure to lavish her large nipples with his tongue, his hands pressing her down onto the bed.

 

“Gods…” She gasped, her face flushed. “Stop playing around and fuck me, Ned!”

 

She’d been waiting for him a long time. Seemingly impatiently.

 

They positioned themselves comfortably on the bed, Minisa on her back with Ned kneeling between her thighs. She cooed sweetly when he brought her legs up to rest on his shoulders. Taking his now fully hard cock in hand, Ned slowly aligned himself with Minisa’s weeping cunt and slowly eased his way in.

 

“Fuuuuck…” She sighed as Ned speared his way into her wet, silky vice.

 

Ned ploughed her inch by inch, in and out. It felt a bit like a homecoming, though it had been so long since he last took Minisa to bed. Ned leaned down close to her as she cooed sweetly for him. Then he began to quicken his pace, looking directly into her clear blue eyes. Ned filled her completely, he was taking her, making her come undone around him. He would thrust deep into her core, spearing to the gates of her womb.

 

“Feel’s like you’re splitting me in half!” Minisa moaned, bitting her lip as she locked her legs around Ned’s waist, keeping him close. He was mercilessly ravaging her, ramming his cock in and out.

 

“I can stop if you wish.” Ned gave a toothy.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Minisa pulled him closer.

 

Ned felt her fingers digging into his muscle, raking red lines across his flesh. It only spurred him on harder, fucking Minisa for all her worth. He dragged his eyes away from her pleasure-addled face to enjoy the sight of her momentous, bouncing breasts. They shook and quaked in time with his thrusts. Ned almost laughed at how similar they were to Cat’s breasts as the bounced under him.

 

Her body was his to enjoy and Minisa surrendered it to him willingly. Ned heard her hiss through gritted teeth as Ned speared particularly deep into her cunt. He was putting his full weight on her, the mattress sinking low under their combined weight.

 

“Gods, I luck your cooooock!” She whined, clutching at him desperately. Ned could feel the walls of her cunt squeezing him tight, welcoming him home, begging him for his release.

 

“You’re such a whore.” Ned grunted as he ploughed Minisa, feeling her quiver around his shaft. “Your daughter has just given birth to more of my children and you still couldn’t help yourself from begging me to fuck you.”

 

“Yes!” Minisa wailed in response. “I’m such a whore! Your whore!”

 

The bed began to creak louder under them. Ned imagined it wasn’t a particular sturdy bed and it certainly hadn’t been put to the test for a while. Ned found it hard to care to much when he looked upon the ravenous and blissful beauty beneath him.

 

Every thrust of his cock sent shockwaves through her body, her flesh rippling and bouncing pleasantly under his gaze. Minisa’s eyes were filled with dark desire. Ned could tell she wanted him, she wanted to be with a man after so many years of nothing.

 

Her eyes rolled back as she screamed until her voice gave out. Every impossibly deep thrust of his cock sent her over the edge, then over again. Ned did not relent. Not when he felt Minisa’s cunt begin to clench around him as her body began to peak and not when she bathed him in her pleasure. Her cunt had an iron grip on him as her lips parted in a soundless cry of pure ecstasy.

 

The boiling pressure around Ned’s throbbing shaft was maddening as the shockwaves of Minisa’s climax reverberated through her entire being. Her flushed skin was moist with sweat, her hair was damp and undone. Minisa looked more like the prize whore of a Winter City brothel than the Dowager Lady of the Riverlands.

 

Ned leaned back, giving her room to breathe as she recovered from her rapturous peak, though still keeping fully sheathed inside her. Her hands covered her face as she took long, deep breaths, trying to clam her heart after such a shock to her system. Ned was happy to let her catch her breath as it provided an excellent view of her prodigious breasts rising and falling pleasantly. After many moments, Minisa’s faculties seemed to return to her.

 

“Fuck….” She sighed. “You don’t know how much I needed that.”

 

“The men of house Stark are always happy to serve.” Ned ran his hands over her thighs, feeling her shiver.

 

“That was the first time someone made me climax since the last time you fucked me twenty years ago.” She laughed breathlessly. A wolfish grin spread across Ned’s lips.

 

“Then I would say you earned a few more. If you can take it, that is…” He teased.

 

Minisa pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “Such a confident boy.” She giggled. “Let’s see if your stamina can match your ego and your cock.”

 

Ned took her by surprise as she giggled, taking her leg and moving her onto her side. With one hand holding her knees in place and the other on the back of her neck, Ned renewed his plundering of Minisa’s silky cunt. This position let him thrust even deeper inside of her. Every inch of his cock thundered deep into her core.

 

“You’ll find I have ample reason for confidence.” Ned grunted as Minisa gasped. “Your daughter and I have had many years to practice our lovemaking.” He noted how Minisa’s cunt quivered and squeezed down on him when he mentioned Cat. “You wouldn’t believe all the wanton debauchery your daughter is capable of now.” Minisa could only moan as she gripped Ned’s shoulders. “How about I tell you?”

 

Ned said, punctuating his words with his thrusts, the claps of his pelvis against Minisa’s meaty behind echoing through the room.

 

“Yes! Tell me!” Minisa cried. “Tell me what a whore you’ve turned my daughter in to!”

 

“Oh, I’ve done nothing.” Ned laughed. “It’s clear to me now that Cat gets her whorishness from you.” Minisa closed her eyes, biting her plump lips in the way Cat always did when she was aroused but trying to hide it.

 

“Where shall we begin then?” Ned asked, before telling Minisa every scandalous act her daughter had committed with her husband.

 

He told her everything, from being fucked on the long table in Winterfell’s main hall, to taking Cat in front of a crowd of hundreds of Children of the Forest, to the many performances they had put on in the Red Rose and the Leaping Wolf.

 

Minisa was shaking and climaxing before Ned even got to telling her about all the other women Ned had fucked alongside Cat, of all the times Cat had submissively licked his seed from the cunts and arses of Elia and Ash. Ned even told Minisa of when Cat first asked if she could tongue Ned’s arse like Elia did. Ned laid bare every dirty, lecherous detail of his marriage bed before Minisa and she loved every moment of it.

 

After an hour of fucking Minisa out of and back into consciousness and regaling her with tales of her whorish daughter, Ned had a thought.

 

“Why am I the one doing all the work?” He lightly slapped her awake. “I think it’s time for you to earn your right to receive Stark seed.” Then Ned rolled onto his back, with Minisa still in his arms. She flopped down bonelessly on top of him before regaining herself.

 

“Yes, of course…” She murmured, before planting her feet on either side of Ned’s hips and shakily begin to start riding him. In truth, Ned could tell Minisa was out of practice from her erratic movements. Though it was unlikely helped by the fact that Ned had ploughed her so hard her legs were still shaking.

 

“Here, let me.” Ned gripped Minisa’s hips with his hands and began motioning her up and down on his shaft. After a few dozen thrust, she was able to keep time on her own and Ned let go, lying back to enjoy the sight of her bouncing breasts. Ned enjoyed the spectacle immensely, his cock bulging inside her as she bounced up and down, over and over, her massive tits clapping together.

 

“Arch your back.” Ned ordered her. “I want to watch them bounce.”

 

Minisa nodded her head, moaning as she did as she was told. She presented her spectacular breasts to Ned to the best of her ability. Her hands bracing themselves on her knees, using her momentum to bounce up and down on his cock. The heavy claps of her arse-cheeks against his thighs bouncing off the stone walls. Ned imagined they could easily hear what was going on out in the hall.

 

“Fuck me!” Minisa squealed, her pleasure growing too much for her. Yet she kept her pace, relentlessly moving faster and faster on Ned’s cock. It was a marvellous sight to witness.

 

Soon enough Minisa’s strength left her body. She shook and spasmed and quivered atop him. Minisa was losing the strength to hold herself up, eventually her breasts were brushing Ned’s just as she rode him.

 

Ned decided to help her, so he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up and slammed her down. Then again. And again. If she thought Ned was fucking her before, he was determined to show her she didn’t even know what being fucked by him meant.

 

But she would.

 

She would learn and Ned would be all too happy to teach her.

 

“AH! AHH! GODSS!” She screamed, before her words lost all form and meaning, turning to an inconsistent string of mumbling, inane babble. Ned slammed her down on him again and again, his iron rod spearing deep into her cunt.

 

The pressure was maddening as it built up in his cock. Wanting to end their liaison on top, Ned put her face down on the bed and hammered away at her from behind. He gave her voluptuous cheeks a damn good thrashing as well, her arse wobbling pleasantly under his blows.

 

Ned emptied himself directly into her womb, pulling hard on her long red hair as he did so, bringing her to her own, mindless end in the process. Ned flopped down beside her on the bed, sweaty and spent. A torrent of his seed spilling from her reddened and ravaged cunt.

 

As Ned starred out of the small window to the room, he couldn’t help but laugh at their position. After she regained consciousness, Minisa did too.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It was some days later, after Ned’s army from the west returned to Riverrun, that they received word that Tywin’s army had left Harrenhal. The old lion apparently still had some tricks in him, he’d stolen a night’s march on Benjen’s forces that were camped to the north of Harrenhal. Given the head-start and the fact that Benjen commanded a larger, slower force it was unlikely they would be able to catch up.

 

“How could Prince Benjen have let this happen?!” Bronze Yohn slammed his fist on the great oaken table in Riverrun’s great hall where all the lords had assembled. Other voices rose up from around the Royce lord, some agreeing with him, others defending Benjen.

 

“It matters not how it happened!” Beric sounded out. “The wine is spilled, now it’s our job to clean it up.”

 

“They march straight west from Harrenhal.” Robb spoke up now, standing over the large map of the Riverlands that had been unfurled on the table. Jon was standing next to him, arm still in a sling from his injuries. After a few moments Robb pointed at a spot on the map. “High Heart.” He said. “If we leave now, the forces we have here can catch Tywin at High Heart as he goes to recapture his homeland.”

 

It was a sound plan, Ned was going to put it to the lords himself. It pleased him to know that Robb had thought of the same thing independently but there was other news he needed to share. “Benjen’s message carried more than troop movements.” Ned said and the hall went quiet. “It appears Lord Tywin has had his Dragonseeds tame what older Targaryen dragons resided in the Dragon Pit in King’s Landing.” Ned had a sinking feeling Tywin would have thought of this eventually. For some reason Ned hated being right.

 

The news was taken about as well as Ned expected. There was outrage among the lords. Some were shouting and blustering, others were quieter with their fear and anger.

 

“Now it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Ned tried to placate them. “Barely a handful of the Targaryen dragons were still in King’s Landing and even then, not many of them have been claimed. And none of them can match Snowsong’s size.” That seemed to settle the lords somewhat.

 

“But Snowfall does…” Came a soft, quiet voice from the other end of the table. Ned knew Roose Bolton’s voice anywhere.

 

“Snowfall will be my responsibility.” Ned stated. He knew he would likely have to kill his mother’s dragon. The idea didn’t fill him with joy. “And to match these new dragons, I have decided to allow our Dragonseeds to ride into battle again.” There was a murmur of discontent among the hall.

 

“They’ve fought by our sides.” Jon declared proudly. “They stayed with us when the traitor abandoned us.”

 

“He’s right.” Beric added. “If they were going to betray us, they would have already.”

 

“So what are we to do, Your Grace?” Asked the mountain of a man that was Ranger Tormund Ryder, called ‘Giant’s-bane’. And ‘Father of Bears’ for all the children he sired with Maege Mormont. “Do we march?”

 

Ned stood then. “We march.”

 

They left Riverrun later that day on a quickened march to High Heart. Robb’s plan of intercepting Tywin’s army had been a good one. They just needed to get between the Lannister army and the Golden Tooth in time.

 

The forces under Ned’s command at Riverrun were around fifty-thousand. Yet a fair number had been injured in previous battles, or tired from a quick march back from Lannisport. Over the days a steady trail of men who fell behind was left between Riverrun and High Heart, it was unfortunate but Ned knew it to be the reality of army movements.

 

Thankfully they made good time. Just after Ned had ordered the disbanding of the column so the men could get some rest, the scoutmaster arrived with news that Tywin’s host was more than half a day away and heading towards them. So after hours of waiting under the setting sun, Ned had commanded his army into battle formations at the base of the hill High Heart crowned.

 

More than a few of his soldiers, even Ned himself, had gone to pray in the circle of Weirwood stumps that had once been a holy place. Ned could only hope the Gods were with them when he saw the Lannister army begin to march over the horizon, their drums hammering and warhorns sounding.

 

“Seems the time has come.” Ned said to Harper before mounting Snowsong. “Send word to everyone.”

 

The battle would be upon them soon.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Their battle lines crashed together in a great cacophony of metal and rending flesh. The last of the sun’s  orange rays were peaking over the horizon. Day was giving over to night and their armies would fight on in the dark. Ned almost wished he could not see in total darkness, then he might be spared the sight. As far as they could tell, both sides had around forty to fifty thousand warriors.

 

Their fight would be long and bloody.

 

However Ned’s battle would be different as he flew through the sky on dragonback. The Lannisters had eight dragonriders to his nine. As far as he could tell three of theirs were adult dragons that had been claimed in King’s Landing. All three seemed at least around a century old, with the larger one being nearer one-hundred-and-fifty by Ned’s reckoning. That was the dragon Jon charged at first, with Dagmer close behind him. Ned had been glad he let his dragonriders out of their confinement in that moment.

 

Ned wished he could help his sons and daughters with their battles and his men below with theirs, but he was in the fight of his life with a painfully familiar dragon. Snowfall had been at the head of the Lannister dragons, with Cleaton shouting and hollering over the sound of the wind. As they were the riders of the two largest dragons on the field, naturally Ned went to charge at him.

 

With a mighty roar the two ancient titans clashed in the sky, claws and teeth digging into each other. The shock of the impact nearly shook Ned from his saddle, but his bindings held tight. Both dragons were spinning through the air together. Ned found himself thinking of his mother’s dragon and how she was being forced to attack her sister. The bond between a rider and their dragon was strong. Ned had to keep telling himself she likely didn’t want to attack them.

 

He didn’t want to kill his mother’s dragon, but he knew he would likely not be left with a choice. Snowsong and Snowfall split apart again before coming back together, Snowsong trying to rake her horns along Snowfall’s wings, as she dug her claws into her armoured stomach in return.

 

“You should have married Sansa to me!” Ned heard Cleaton shouting over the sound of the dragons.

 

Again and again their dragons clashed, freezing blood spilled from their wounds and landed on the men below them, freezing them instantly. Ned could pay little attention to the battles of the other dragons around him.

 

The fate of the battle would be decided by Snowsong or Snowfall.

 

Whoever was left standing.

 

Snowsong was larger and slower than her little sister, but stronger too. Much stronger. And Ned was a much more experienced dragonrider. After a time he could tell Snowsong was gaining the upper hand, Snowfall began to break away more from their tangles. Cleaton was furiously shouting poorly spoken High Valyrian phrases as he tugged on hie reins, trying to get Snowfall on the attack. Unfortunately Ned’s singleminded pursuit of Cleaton meant he didn’t see the other dragon coming. Until he heard its roar.

 

“Fuck!” Ned swore as he tried to avoid the dragon. The world spun as Snowsong went into a roll. But the other was small and quick, likely no more than twelve. Ned heard a high screech then his back became very warm all a sudden. A moment passed before Ned realised he was being engulfed in dragon fire. A formless scream escaped his lips as he felt his Uru armour heating up. But he did not burn. Surprisingly he didn’t even feel particularly warm.

 

You will face dragons soon , Melisandre had said to him. Ned suddenly burst out laughing. He could bend fire and was therefore immune to it. A dragon could not burn him.

 

Feeling a surge of newfound confidence surging through his body, Ned took Foesmasher from his belt and held it aloft. Soon enough the night sky was alive with lightning. It struck his hammer like a great arrow of celestial energy. Ned eyed his small attacker and threw Foesmasher with all his might. A booming sound exploded from Foesmasher as it flew from his hand. Like the crack of a thousand whips at once, filling the sky with their thunder.

 

In the blink of an eye the hammer found its target and the smaller dragon was near cut in half by the force of the blow. Parts of dragon and the Golden Legionnaire who rode it falling to the ground as Foesmasher kept going at full speed. The sky rumbled with low thunder when he spied Snowfall again.

 

Cleaton was flying away like a coward. Ned wasn’t going to let him go. Cleaton had killed four of his men  to break the Kingslayer out. His men. Their deaths would not go unanswered.

 

Pulling Snowsong’s reigns, he bade her climb higher in the sky. She strained under the effort after such a hard fight, but she succeeded. The wind was a bitter cold against Ned’s skin but he did not feel it. Then he urged his dragon down and she fell like a stone down on top of Snowfall and her rider. Both dragons cried out at the blow, neither attacked the other as they fell.

 

Weight and momentum was on Ned’s side, Snowsong forced her sister back to earth at the edge of a small wood that was in sight of the battle. Ned felt bones breaking in both dragons when they hit the ground, he was nearly shaken from his saddle and blacked out for a few moments.

 

When he came to, Ned tasted blood in his mouth and realised he was hanging at an odd angle from his saddle. The view in his helmet was narrow and his head was ringing. His fingers clumsily fiddled with the bindings.

 

Eventually Ned removed his helmet and sucked down the fresh cool air again. He ripped his saddle bindings off and fell ten feet to the ground with a dull thud. Ned rose again on shaky legs and took in his surroundings. The armies were still fighting off in the distance with dragons flying above them. It was too far for Ned to see who was who, but it seemed there were fewer than before.

 

Let’s hope that it’s just the Lannister dragons who fell , Ned thought.

 

He collected himself then checked on the two dragons. Both were injured and exhausted, but alive. Torn up muddy grass and parts of broken tree littered the ground, all of it covered by a thickening layer of frost. Snowfall had a broken wing and Snowsong had placed a limb on her sister’s back. It annoyed Ned greatly to find that Cleaton had not been in his saddle. But he could still smell him. It didn’t take long for Ned to track the boy, his scent was strong.

 

Fear .

 

Ned was stalking Cleaton slowly as the bastard limped away from the battle and his fallen dragon. At twenty feet away, he froze Cleaton’s foot to the ground to keep him trapped.

 

“Fuck!” Cleaton gave a pained whine as he looked around in terror. When he saw Ned he hastily tried to draw his sword. Ned walked towards him slowly, drawing Ice from its scabbard.

 

Cleaton’s first slash was clumsy and ill-judged, Ned was out of his range so he didn’t even need to dodge. He advanced and Cleaton swung again, terror gripping him. This time Ned caught the blade with his Uru hand and wrenched the sword from Cleaton’s grasp before throwing it away.

 

“I’ll do anything!” Cleaton near squealed. Ned felt a tinge of pity for him. “Fuck, I can tell you things…”

 

Ned still didn’t answer, he walked around to Cleaton so they were face to face. “Please. Please don’t kill me!” Cleaton begged. “I’m your Nephew, it would be kinslaying. My father wouldn’t want you to kill-“

 

Ned backhanded Cleaton and he fell to his hands and knees. “You dare invoke my brother to me.” He spat, his cold fury barely contained. “You betray us to the enemy, kill four of my men and you force me to fight my mother’s dragon!?” A layer of ice began to cover his blade. “You never met Brandon, so I’ll forgive you for not knowing this, but the most important thing to him was the Pack. His family.”

 

“And i’m his son.” Cleaton choked out as he tried to rise to his feet. Ned only froze his knees to the ground.

 

“But you are not family.” Ned answered. “You left our pack because you wanted more. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives…” He froze a block of ice and forced Cleaton to put his head down on it.

 

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

 

“In the name of the homeland you betrayed and the men you murdered.” He began as Cleaton began to piss himself. “I Eddard of house Stark, seventeenth of my name. King of the First Men, Free Folk, Children of the Forest, Sea, Dwarves and Giants, lord of Winter, Rivers and Mountains and Stark of Starks, do sentence you to die.”

 

Ice raised high above his head and then it swung down. Cleaton’s head was removed in one sure stroke, one Ned had done thousands of times before. Blood spewed forth from the stump as red as summerwine.

 

Ned was still for a moment, looking down upon the severed head of his bastard nephew. Then he swallowed his feelings and moved on. He still had a battle to win. With a snap of his fingers, Foesmasher flew back to his hand. He stowed both weapons and made for his dragon, leaving Cleaton to rot.

 

Both Snowsong and Snowfall were resting in the clearing they had made, licking their wounds. “I’m sorry for all this.” Ned said, reaching a hand out to stroke Snowfall’s snout. At least the old dragon would be free of Cleaton now.

 

For the first time since the battle began he was able to fully take in his surroundings. He stood at the tree-line and watched the battle as it raged on half a mile away, under the dim light of a pale moon.

 

The dragons were still flying and fighting overhead, but Ned would not be able to join them again with Snowsong so injured. He gave a whistle for Fang. His direwolf came bounding from the fray, dashing over to him. His maw was bloodied when he finally got to Ned, who gave him a scratch behind the ear.

 

“Good boy.” He encouraged, then mounted his wolf and they were off. Riding a direwolf was like riding water. There was a smoothness that could not be matched. Fang crossed the half-mile of open grass in under a minute, then ran behind the Stark lines.

 

Ned had ordered a relatively standard formation. The pikes when in chequered squares on the flanks with the swords and spears holding the centre. Archers were formed in lines behind them up the hill and rained down volley after volley. The mounted troops stayed in reserve for flanking manoeuvres and counters. Mages were hurling every spell they could at the dragons in the sky helped by what few Giants they had with them. Ned urged Fang to the centre where the bulk of his lords were overseeing the battle.

 

“How goes it?” Ned asked.

 

Lord Balgruff Nord was the first to respond. “A lot of waiting really. Tywin Lannister seems content to keep smashing his forces against us like waves on a beach.”

 

“Four of their dragons are down.” Ned heard Alysanne raise her voice from among the lords, soon enough his oldest daughter came forth, a little too bloodied for his liking. “And two of ours are grounded, mine and yours?”

 

“Snowsong is alive yes.” Ned confirmed. “Snowfall too.”

 

“I hope the bastard died at least.” She spat.

 

Ned only nodded, then looked to the battle lines again. There wasn’t much finesse in Tywin’s formation, nor in his strategy. The mark of a desperate man perhaps? He thought.

 

Thankfully he had no Luminrks with him. Ned reasoned they must have been too slow on the march. And they likely weren’t the only ones. Ned could see the Lannister forces were looking particularly tired and ragged, even their reserves. Tywin had been marching them night and day to retake the West.

 

“It’s time to end this battle.” Ned declared, then turned to a squire who was stood with the lords, holding a banner high. “Take word to Beric.” He ordered. Ned had given the old Witcher command of the front line of troops and was likely fighting in the thick of it alongside the Chosen Men. “Tell him I order the Winter Wolves into the Third Defensive Formation. Then find the other commanders and tell them to follow the Winter Wolves’ example.”

 

The squire bowed, handed his banner off to another squire, then set off running to the centre of the melee.

 

“You’ll have to remind us of the Winter Wolf tactical codex, Your Grace.” Alfred Rarker laughed, followed by other lords.

 

“The centre of the front lines are going to slowly pull back.” Ned explained. “Until the line resembles a ‘V’, then we’ll ride out with our mounted troops and attack their cavalry, with a few detachments peeling off to take the Lannister foot in the rear. At that same time, what Giants we have will help pushing our foot-soldiers forward again.”

 

All seemed to approve of this plan and began to ready themselves, donning their helmets and calling for men to mount their horses. Before long a horn blew in their front line, the signal to begin stepping back.

 

Moments later another dragon fell from the sky, one of the larger ones with two other dragons savaging its throat. Ned’s heart leapt into his throat before he recognised the attacking dragons as Behemouth and Gnasher. A great cheer erupted from the men at seeming another Lannister dragon felled.

 

As the Stark lines pulled back, the Lannisters advanced. Ned also noted Tywin sounding horns for his reserves to begin advancing too.

 

“Let’s hope we can get them all together for a nice red reaping.” Alysanne said beside Ned, her Uru spear in hand.

 

“Just stay close to me, i’ll protect you.” He told his daughter, who only laughed.

 

“Stay close to me and I’ll protect you , old man.”

 

“I’m not so old any more.” Ned chuckled in response.

 

They were silent for a few minutes as the Winter Wolves lead the false retreat. In spite of their words, they both knew the near future would be filled with danger and they needed to ready themselves. The pikemen on the flanks stood firm, even in the face of a rain of arrows from Lannister bows. The centre lines stretched as they went further and further back, struggling to contain the advancing Lannister troops.

 

When the defensive lines got to only three men deep, Ned ordered the horns to sound and drew his sword. Fang threw his head back into a mighty howl before breaking off to the right, leading at the head of the Northerner’s charge.

 

Two groups of mounted troops ran along the back of Stark lines before circling out and around to the front. Greatjon and Lord Nord led their cavalry into the countercharging Lannister horses while Ned led the rest into the backs of the Lannister foot.

 

It was carnage.

 

The first man was ripped to shreds by Fang before he even knew Ned was there. Others ran from the wolf, Ned brought his ice-covered blade down on them again and again. He threw Foesmasher into a mass of them that exploded into a mess of broken bodies and lightning.

 

Ned hacked and slashed at those around him, Ice and Foesmasher vibrating in his hands as he used them together. Lightning and ice flared around the two weapons. The hammer had been designed to be used in tandem with Ice, they enhanced each other’s abilities and shared power through their link.

 

Foesmasher now had its own layer of ice covering it and lightning coiled along Ice’s blade. There was no armour in all the realms that could survive blows from such weapons. As Ned was proving time and again, bashing and slashing his foes down. Felling men and beasts left and right. A lion here, a troll there, it was a dance of blood and death.

 

A stout, ugly bull troll in heavy iron armour was charging at Ned until an Uru spear split its skull.

 

“I had him.” Ned shouted to his daughter over the din.

 

She only laughed in response.

 

Their charge cut a bloody swath into the Lannister back line. But Ned could see the force of their charge had also pushed them through the Stark lines. Thankfully most of the Lannister foot was running, especially when the Stark dragons began to rain ice and death down upon them, having seen off the last of the Lannister dragonriders.

 

What few weren’t running before, did so after.

 

The battle was fought deep into the night. But by the hour of the wolf the last of the stragglers were slain, the bulk of the army having routed into the darkness. Ned held his sword high in victory as men and wolves howled into the night.

 

 

—————————

 

 

It was a grey and overcast morning that came after the battle, with a mild chill in the air blowing down from the North. The hours spent after the battle had been mostly spent sleeping and recovering. They were too tired to chase down Tywin’s routed force and they had prisoners to secure.

 

Ned had ordered the Westermen dead to be buried in a mass grave so as not to attract Necrophages. Sylvie had also planted three Weirwood trees on the grave, so that their roots might feed on the blood of the Seven worshippers.

 

As they could not carry the bodies of their own dead home, Ned ordered they be burned as was tradition in war time. Ashes had been taken from the bonfire when it had burned out, to be held in a place of honour in Winterfell. The fire had burned low and the rising sun was peeking over the horizon when a rider came with news that Lord Tywin Lannister was willing to offer terms.

 

Tywin’s routing force had likely spied Benjen’s army in the distance and didn’t want to be trapped between two larger forces. It’s what led to Ned sitting alone in a tent pavilion that had been erected in an open field, waiting for Tywin to arrive. Per the terms offered, only Ned and Tywin would be there, each being allowed to have a group of a dozen men standing one hundred yards away.

 

Ned drummed his fingers on Foesmasher as it lay in front of him on the table they had placed, Ice leaning against the table’s edge. Soon enough Tywin came riding from the distance with his dozen men. His armour was dented and bloody and is red and gold sash was torn. Ned was still in his Uru plate - sans his helmet - and a white surcoat with a grey Direwolf emblazoned across the chest.

 

At least I bothered to have a clean surcoat , Ned thought, regarding Tywin as rode on alone to the pavilion. When he dismounted and walked to his seat, Ned saw Tywin in a way he had never seen before. He saw a tired, bald man who had just been dealt the latest in quite a list of defeats.

 

For a man who valued his pride as much as Tywin, that was worse than death.

 

They both stared at each other for a moment, Ned wondered if Tywin would use the correct honorific or if he still had some pride in him.

 

“Lord Hand.” Ned greeted evenly, taking the first step else they might sit in silence forever.

 

“…Your Grace.” Tywin finally said.

 

Gods, he might truly be defeated , Ned allowed himself to think for a moment. Then he got a hold of himself. Tywin Lannister would stop being in the threat when he was in the ground and not a day sooner.

 

“Please, drink.” Ned poured icewine into two cups and slid one across the table. Tywin took it up cautiously. Ned nearly laughed.

 

He expects me to poison him as it’s what he would do.

 

“I thought you held your honour in higher regard, Stark.” Tywin finally said after taking a sip. “Do you truly hate me so much that you would steal more than half the kingdoms from your friend’s son just because he’s a Lannister?”

 

Ned nearly cracked him in the head with Foesmasher for that. “None of your daughters’ children carry Baratheon blood.” He said through gritted teeth.

 

“Lies.” Tywin said dismissively. “You, Renly and Stannis. All liars trying to take what house Lannister has earned.”

 

“Well Renly’s dead and Stannis is likely days away from storming King’s Landing.” Ned snarked. “And I have just beaten you in battle, so if you only called this meeting to insult us and lie to yourself, tell me now before I crush you and your army.” Ned could see rage in Tywin’s green eye then. He’d seen similar in Cersei’s. “Winter is coming. Summer is over and the snows can’t be too far away. Not to mention the Ironborn are raiding all the way up and down the west coast. Do you intend to fight a war on multiple fronts for the rest of your life?”

 

“…And… what would your price be?” Tywin said through gritted teeth.

 

Ned leaned back into his chair. “I want the Lannisters out of the Riverlands-“

 

“And you expect me to leave you the land you plundered in my kingdom?” Tywin interrupted him.

 

“No.” Ned countered. “The West will be yours again, but the wealth we’ve taken will be kept. In payment for all your men have taken from the Riverlands.”

 

Tywin grunted and nodded his head slightly.

 

“There’s more,” Ned continued and they began to talk of all the intricacies of what treaties involved.

 

The terms ended up being relatively similar to the ones Robb laid out before Ned returned. Full sovereignty to the North, Vale and Riverlands and all their peoples being the main points along with prisoners taken being released. In exchange Ned would also release hostages he had taken in a measured manner.

 

Of course, Tywin would not give for nothing in return. Ned agreed to lift the blockade on Lannister ships using the Great Canal, though they would face higher taxes than before that could be paid in coin or cargo. The final issue lay with the men who led the raids to pillage through the Riverlands. Tywin fought hard, but eventually relented to giving them over to face justice.

 

It was then that Ned understood why Tywin was being so conciliatory. He was buying time, likely wanting to deal with Stannis before the snows hit properly, then wait out the winter before attacking in the spring. More Uruks could be made in that time and what few dragons he had left would grow larger.

 

The coming winter was in all likelihood to be a long and cold one, if Tywin Lannister wished to spend it preparing for war then the North, Riverlands and Vale would have to as well. Ned weighed his options before settling on that he would rather stave off war as long as he could.

 

Both Ned and Tywin had Druids, Maesters and scribes write out their agreements into official language before the treaties were signed in view of both armies by every Lord, Ranger and Knight present and finally by Ned and Tywin.

 

The war, at least from Ned’s perspective, was officially over.

 

 

—————————

 

 

In the following weeks both Tywin and Ned worked to fulfil the terms of their treaty and treat the wounds of their forces. The raiding in the Riverlands was stopped and their commanders were given or captured. Ned gave all but one of them to the Riverlords, Alyne Payne was a Captain in the Golden Legion and by all accounts a throughly awful man. But he could be useful for information and experiments on the Golden Legion’s enhancements. Tetra had asked Ned to have him taken back to Winterfell and he acquiesced.

 

Captured nobles were returned as were the remains of those who died in captivity. Ned in turn sent the same amount of hostages back to Tywin. As was written in the treaty, they would do the same every three turns of the moon until all were freed. Ned also began diverting large sums of money and supplies to the Riverlands to help them rebuild and prepare for the coming winter.

 

A rotating contingent of Northern and Vaelish troops would also be stationed at tactically vital fortresses through the kingdom to help reinforce them. As Ned did not intend to spend the rest of his life with his full army in the Riverlands. And neither did his men. He also promised that he would send Amazons to build a linking portal in the Riverlands and the Vale, connecting them directly to Winterfell. Of course magically rich areas would need to be found first, so he set Riverlander and Vaelish mages to the task.

 

It took some time before the dragons healed enough so that they might fly back home. And in that time Ned became a grandsire again. All three of Jon’s wives gave birth to twins. Myrcella birthed two dark haired daughters, Val birthed two redheaded, curly haired babes, a boy and a girl. Ygritte, to everyone’s surprise gave birth to two screaming boys so blonde they looked to be completely Lannister. Robb and Rhaenys both laughed so hard Ned feared they might fall over.

 

When all were well enough to travel, Ned gave the order for them all to depart for Winterfell. It felt like lifetimes since Ned had seen it last. Ned was talking with Sansa in Riverrun’s courtyard just before they were to mount their dragons when Lara came shouting for him.

 

“What is it?” Ned asked when Lara finally got to them.

 

“I’ve just received word from our spies in the Crownlands that Stannis has stormed King’s Landing.”

 

“Gods…” Sansa swore.

 

“He’s taken the city?”

 

“Not yet, but he will.” Lara answered him. “Joffrey and Cersei have fled the city on their dragons. Apparently Stannis sent his Velaryon riders after them. Joffrey made it to the West but no one knows where his mother is.” A small part of Ned wished nothing bad had happened to her. Then he remembered the kind of person she was. “And that’s not what’ll blow your socks off.” Lara continued. “The Rose and the Lion appear to have joined forces. Joffrey will marry Margaery Tyrell.”

 

That was troubling news. Ned instantly knew why Tywin was so willing to give up ground in the negotiations, he didn’t just want time to rebuild his kingdom but also join it with the Reach.

 

“Fuck.” Ned said. “We’ll have to redouble our efforts with the portal construction, we need to be able to get a force from one kingdom to the next whenever needed.”

 

“I’ll tell Queen Hippolyta we need more of her mages.” She said before leaving Ned and Sansa. He turned back to his daughter but saw Sansa was in a world of her own. Ned had some inclination as to why.

 

“I’m sorry about Margaery, dear.” He said.

 

“I’m fine.” She said in a huff then stormed off.

 

Children, Ned thought, mournfully.

 

Sometimes all he had to do was exist and his children might be annoyed at him. Though he supposed that was the truth for all parents. He sighed and made for the boat that would take him across the Tumblestone to Snowsong and then home.

 

Ned was looking forward to seeing the North again. It felt like years since he’d been there last.

Notes:

Edit - Had to repost this chapter as it didn’t show up for some reason

 

Kept you waiting, huh?

I know, I know. It took a bit longer than I said to put out a new one. But hey at least it’s here now. I hope you enjoy it.

And thus marks the end of the War of Five Kings (at least from the Stark vs Lannister perspective) There’s still Stannis and the Greyjoys to consider, but with Winter coming will either of them be able to continue their campaigns? The next few chapters will be compilations shorts, like the chapters after Robert’s Rebellion. It’s a quick way to go through large sections of time without completely skipping it. I’ve already planned a number of them, some involving characters that readers have been asking for since the beginning (hint Rhaenyra) If anyone has any ideas for a short, feel free to suggest them.

Until next time on When Winter Comes!

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Chapter 32: Shorts Part 2: Part 1

A Wolf Hunts a Rose

 

Two weeks post War of Five Kings

 

 

They’d flown back to Winterfell a few days ago, yet Sansa was still furious. How could she do this to me? She fumed in the silence of her bedchambers, sitting on her bed with Lady’s head in her lap. A rather comical image as Lady was as large as Sansa’s whole bed. Her direwolf was the most perfect creature in all creation. Lady knew when Sansa was sad, happy, when she wanted to be alone or needed a shoulder to cry on.

 

“What do you think I should do?” Sansa asked her most trusted advisor.

 

Annoyingly, Lady only looked up at her with massive eyes, made a small indeterminate whine and tilted her head to the side.

 

It was not the most helpful of advice.

 

Sansa huffed and threw herself back onto her pillows in exasperation. Only adding further to Sansa’s woes, she found that the sun was just at the right angle to shine directly through her window and into her eyes. The Gods were truly cruel.

 

She turned to shield her eyes from the blinding rays of the late-morning sun. Would that the other problem were as solvable , Sansa thought to herself.

 

Alas the other problem was somewhat more complicated. Margaery was to marry Joffrey, likely sooner than later. For as long as Sansa had been going after girls, her older siblings had gotten to them first. There was no chance in all the heavens or the hells that she would let her first true conquest marry another.

 

Perhaps ‘Conquest’ was not the right word for what Sansa felt for Margaery. Of course, Sansa had been attracted to the ‘Rose of Highgarden’ when she first clapped eyes on the woman. She was a true beauty after all. But it was more than that. She made Sansa laugh with her wit and charm, her curiosity and her confidence. In some ways Sansa had wanted to be more like Margaery.

 

Sansa could still taste the Tyrell on her lips, their first kiss had been during the feast in King’s Landing for the Tourney of the Hand. She had taken Margaery into the Red Keep’s Godswood and plied her craft.

 

While Sansa did believe that there were women who weren’t attracted to other women, she just hadn’t met any. At least when she was done with them.

 

Thoughts of their first night and the morning after ran through Sansa’s mind. The high-pitched sound Margaery made when she touched her just there , the feel of her soft skin, the sight of her generous breasts as they softly rose and fell as Margaery slept. Sansa’s heartbeat quickened at the thought of all the salacious things she had done with the so-called ‘Maid of Highgarden’.

 

She was suddenly brought out of her thoughts when she heard the soft cooing of Pearl, her dove, standing on her perch across the room. “I suppose you want your breakfast?”

 

Sansa lethargically rose from the bed. She wandered over to Pearl and patted her shoulder, to which her dove chirped happily and hopped on. Sansa left her bedchambers with Lady trotting behind her.

 

Life in Winterfell had been a bit of an abrupt change from living with a travelling army. Of course, the northern army was still marching back home. One of the many benefits of being a dragonrider meant travel over long distances was made a much smaller inconvenience.

 

In any case, while Sansa was still angry, she was eminently glad to be home. Especially now that she could see Arya and Alyrianne claiming their dragons. Father had instructed her to help teach her younger sisters alongside Alysanne. Sansa had missed flying on Sunbeam just for the fun of it and not for battle.

 

Eventually she found her way to one of Winterfell’s many smaller dining halls. The Great Hall could sit thousands and would find a lot of use in the coming months as the Lords of the North returned home and her father held an end-of-war feast. However it was not the best place to eat food when only dining among friends.

 

In the dining hall Sansa found the Russ twins devouring a chicken between them. Lyman and Lynora were both large and well-muscled, with a mop of shaggy honey-blonde hair on their heads. They both gave toothy grins when they saw Sansa.

 

“Princess!” Lynora called out, dropping her meat and standing from her bench. She stood a head taller than Sansa. And Sansa was not a short woman. “We’d be honoured if you would join us.” Lynora continued, her bare, muscled arms spreading wide. Sansa well-remembered those arms wrapped around her between the bedsheets on a fair few occasions.

 

“The more the merrier.” Lyman added before chugging an entire tankard of Nord mead. House Russ was a masterly house sworn to house Stark. They resided in Winterfell and the Winter City and had always held positions in the Stark household. Sansa had known all the Russ children since she was little.

 

She told the servants what she wanted to eat and sat down with her friends. “I’m sure you’re glad to be back home now.” Lyman rubbed the mead from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand.

 

“Aye, and Jeyne is too no doubt.” Lynora laughed.

 

Sansa only smiled and inclined her head as she reached for a goblet of wine. It was true, Jeyne Poole had been one of her first stops after she arrived back in Winterfell. In her mind’s eye she could still see Jeyne quivering in pleasure on her back.

 

“I wonder what Prin- Sorry -King Eddard is going to do first when everyone’s returned home?” Lyman asked.

 

“What’s best for his subjects, i’m sure.” Sansa answered. Just in time for her lemon cakes to arrive, with a small bowl of seeds for Pearl, who chirped happily at her meal. Sansa flicked a lemon cake in Lady’s direction, which she caught in mid-air with an excited yip, devouring it in one bite.

 

“I don’t like this thing between the Lannisters and the Tyrells…” Lynora said. “Them two getting into bed together can only mean trouble for us.”

 

Sansa’s mood suddenly began to sour.

 

“Yea, and I heard that Joffrey is a right little prick as well.” Lyman added. “Are the stories true?” He turned to Sansa.

 

Her mood began to sour even more at the thought of Margaery and Joffrey together.

 

“He’s worse.” Sansa answered, frankly. Before making her excuses and leaving the Russ twins. Sansa could faintly hear Lynora swatting her brother on the shoulder as she left the hall.

 

She set a brisk pace as she strode through Winterfell, not actually knowing where she was going. Servants, guards and other lords and ladies all bowed as she passed them by. Sansa hoped they didn’t hear her grumbling.

 

On and on she walked until she came to a fork in the corridor somewhere deep in the bowls of Winterfell’s main keep. Lady came up beside her and sat down, her head still towering over Sansa. She looked at her wolf for a few moments before throwing her arms around her, burying her face in Lady’s fur.

 

“I can’t leave her.” She whispered against Lady’s chest. “She’s mine and I can’t leave her.”

 

Her wolf made a sounds that Sansa chose to interpret as an agreement. With all her resolve, Sansa set off for her father’s study, she knew he was most likely to be there at this time of day. Though Winterfell was one of the largest castles in Westeros, she’d lived there all her life, finding her way to her father’s rooms was simple.

 

Hagman and Cooper were standing guard, at an early age she’d learned not to barge past them to see her parents, else she’d end up seeing far more of them that she’d ever wished.

 

“Is my father indisposed?”

 

“No, Princess.” Hagman replied. “He’s only doing administrative work at present.”

 

“Oh it’s a hard life, being a king.” Cooper laughed. “I don’t know how he bears it.”

 

“I’m sure my mothers make it easier.” Sansa said as she walked into her father’s study, the Chosen Men chuckling behind her.

 

The study was more than three times bigger than Sansa’s own, not insubstantial chambers. The walls were lined with tall bookcases filled with ledgers and records that a Stark of Starks might need easy access to. She walked along the long Myrish carpet that formed a path around the bookcases and led her to the study’s open area. Her father was sitting at his desk with Luwin, Vayon Poole and Hortenn Galaway, Winterfell’s Chief Scribe. A massive tapestry mapping the North hung behind them above the fireplace.

 

“And on to house Hackk then.” Luwin started, none of them had noticed Sansa yet and she was content to wait.

 

“They’ve been hit particularly hard by the war.” Hortenn stated “With lord Hackk and his oldest sons dead, only young Rydan Hackk, a boy of eight, remains of their line.”

 

“So he shall need a castellan until he comes of age, as I recall he has a fair few uncles.” Her father said in his ‘Lord’s Voice’.

 

“Lady Hackk writes that she fears her Goodbrothers might be unwilling to relinquish their new position when the time comes.” Luwin interjected.

 

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “And the Jarl of Thenn cannot handle this situation because? The Hackks are sworn to Thenn are they not?”

 

“There was a blood feud a generation or so ago.” Luwin answered. “While the Hackks did stay under the purview of house Thenn, they chafe under their lords. And Jarl Styr is unlikely to help them out of their predicament.”

 

Her father sighed, Sansa remembered him telling her in the past that being a lord was a lot like balancing a very large and unstable stack plates. She imagined it was even worse for a king.

 

“Vayon, find me a cousin who’s not too busy and relatively competent. Send them to me and I’ll see if they can be of help to us.”

 

Sansa decided now was the best time to interrupt as there seemed to be a lull and she didn’t want to be waiting all day. “Father.”

 

All four of them looked up when they heard her, her father smiled warmly as the other three bowed their heads. “To what do we owe the pleasure, pup?” He asked.

 

“It can wait if you like.”

 

“Oh of course not. We could use a break anyway.”

 

The other three seemed somewhat perturbed by her father’s words, but Sansa didn’t mind. They made their exit and Sansa was alone with her father, Fang and Lady both lying next to the fire. “I’m certainly grateful for your intervention.” Her father said, taking a drink from his cup. “Administrative work is important, but there are fewer things duller.” He chuckled.

 

Sansa nodded and smiled, it was best to agree to everything he said before making her request. “There is a topic I wished to broach with you…” She started, tentatively. “Of a personal nature.”

 

Her father inclined his head in slight surprise. “By all means…”

 

“About Margaery.” Her father’s face fell slightly.

 

“My dear daughter,” He began. “I know relationships can be difficult at your age… but-“

 

“She won’t want to marry him!” Sansa interrupted her father in a very uncharacteristic turn, then remembered she was not angry at him. “I’m sorry-“

 

He raised his hand to stop her, his features softened. “The war is over. What would you have me do? Launch an assault on Casterly Rock for one woman? The Tyrells have allied themselves with the Lannisters, they would not take kindly to us absconding with half of their marriage alliance.”

 

“We have the Mistwalkers,” Sansa offered. “I know we have our agents in Lannisport and even Casterly Rock itself.”

 

“Sansa, such a thing wouldn’t be possible even under normal circumstances and as you might agree, these times are far from normal.” Her father’s voice was soft and warm, even if his words were an ice cold dagger in her heart. “I know you are fond of her, but it’s an unfortunate truth that sometimes we cannot have what we want. What would we even do with her? Keep her in Winterfell? Would her family just leave her here?” He reached out across his desk and took her hands in his. “I am sorry Sansa, but this cannot be done. There are many other women for you to love.”

 

Sansa started at that. “I don’t love Margaery!” Her voice was perhaps a bit higher than she wanted it.

 

Her father only gave her a sympathetic look and opened his mouth to say more honeyed words to fall on deaf ears. He was interrupted however, when the door opened and Cooper came into the study.

 

“Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace.” He bowed slightly. “But a matter has arisen that you ought to know of.”

 

Her father looked saddened, then nodded. “We’ll talk more of this later.”

 

Sansa was then ushered out of the study. She walked for a while longer before finding a bench that had been carved into a window frame that overlooked one of Winterfell’s many courtyards. She sat down on it and looked out of the window, somewhat defeated.

 

Her father’s words were not exactly surprising, she supposed. She hadn’t brought him a plan on how to extricate Margaery from the lion’s den. But even if she had, he would never have allowed her to go.

 

If Marg is to be rescued, father mustn’t know.

 

The problem was that Sansa had no real idea on how to do it. She was unfortunately not well-versed in spycraft. The ring of swords drew her attention down to the yard bellow her window. Great-uncle Beric was instructing her younger brothers in swordplay, his red uru blade glinting in the sun as he batted their swords away with ease.

 

In a flash of inspiration, Sansa’s idea revealed itself. She let out an undignified squeak of excitement that thankfully only Lady and Pearl were around to hear. Great-uncle Beric had told them all tales of his travels to the south, even his excursions into Casterly Rock. Surely he would know of secret passages into the castle that she could avail herself of.

 

Then Sansa realised that Beric would never tell her of these things. Or if he did, he would then tell her father. Rectoress Gilcrest would have been with Beric on his travels… she thought.

 

While her Great-uncle would tell on her, Tetra Gilcrest could be much more flexible. Sansa knew of all the times she had kept things from her father, much to her father’s annoyance. She leapt from her bench with renewed vigour. Tetra Gilcrest would be her salvation.

 

 

—————————

 

 

“No.”

 

Fuck!

 

Even though Tetra was sitting and Sansa was standing, she still felt the Rectoress of the Palace of Magic looking down on her. At times like these she remembered one of the many reasons why few were fond of Tetra Gilcrest.

 

She was a bitch.

 

“Why not?” Sansa asked, sounding a little more indignant than she wished.

 

“Why not?!” Rutter, Tetra’s direraven repeated from his perch on her desk. “Why not!? Why not!?”

 

Thankfully Tetra silenced it with an icy glare before turning to Sansa. “Because when the Lannisters capture you - which they will - they will use you against your father and the North.”

 

“How would the Lannisters capture me?” Sansa tried to feign ignorance.

 

Tetra only rolled her eyes. “I’m no fool. You asked about Beric’s stories of how we nearly ended up getting caught in the lord’s chamber of Casterly Rock by Tywin’s grandfather. You want to know how we broke in.” In retrospect, Sansa supposed she should have been more subtle in her questioning. “As to the ‘why?’” Tetra continued. “I would imagine it relates to a certain rose from Highgarden…”

 

Sansa began to turn red. She could tell this  battle was lost so decided a hasty retreat was the best option. “I’m not finished.” She heard Tetra say but ignored. That is until she couldn’t open the door exiting Tetra’s solar. The sound of wood scraping together filled Sansa’s ears as Tetra pushed out a chair for her. She sat down on it with a huff.

 

“I can see this is a lost cause, so why do you insist on wasting more of our time?”

 

“Because you’ll try to do it anyway.” Tetra answered tersely, back in her chair. Sansa inclined her head slightly. The witch wasn’t wrong.

 

“With no help from, the rest of you it seems.” She crossed her arms.

 

“That’s what worries me.”

 

“I have magic-“

 

“Oh please…” Tetra interrupted.

 

Sansa crossed her arms again. “It was your daughter who taught me.”

 

“Exactly. I never felt Yen applied herself properly in the arcane arts.”

 

“She’s one of the most powerful mages in the North!”

 

“And she could be the most powerful if only she worked at it a bit harder… But we’re getting off topic.”

 

Sansa was growing more annoyed by the moment. “What even is the topic? I believe you’ve scolded me enough for today.”

 

“You came to me and not Beric.” Tetra stated.

 

“I thought you would be more likely to help and not tell father.”

 

“…And I haven’t yet…” Tetra said, her words hanging in the air before she leaned over to whisper to Rutter who then fluttered off through a door deeper into Tetra’s chambers. Sansa’s eyes widened in realisation.

 

“You haven’t… Because you know the value of a Stark owing you a favour.”

 

“I just haven’t gotten round to telling your father is all…” Tetra responded dismissively. Then Rutter flew back in through the doorway and dropped a pair of rings on Tetra’s desk.

 

“This is Lonaki, the ring of Illusion.” Tetra held up a ring of bronze and silver with a purple gem. “It is one of the Blackthron rings of power.” She placed the ring on her finger. Before Sansa’s eyes Tetra began to shimmer, her form becoming blurred for a few moments. Eventually a perfect replica of Sansa was sitting across from her. Sansa’s mouth fell open in shock.

 

“As you can see.” Tetra said with Sansa’s voice. “It can be quite useful.” She stood up and began to walk around. Sansa could only watch in amazement. Though she still moved like Tetra, everything else was a perfect mimic. A faint sense of dread began to bubble from within her. After admiring herself in a large mirror that hung from the wall, Tetra walked over to Lady who was lounging comfortably on the carpet, half asleep.

 

“Lady.” Tetra called to Sansa’s wolf. Lady opened her eyes and was surprised to see two Sansas in the room. She got to her feet abruptly and began to whine as she looked between them, clearly confused. “It can change how you look, sound, smell…” Tetra said as she removed the ring and the illusion dropped. Lady quickly padded over to Sansa and put her head in Sansa’s lap, clearly upset by the ordeal. “Though only in a small area.” Tetra added, dropping the ring onto her desk.

 

“This,” She added, picking up the other ring, a plane band of silver. “Is silver Uru and it can take the form of a small knife when required.” Tetra demonstrated as the metal of the ring seemed to melt and form into a small blade a few inches long.

 

“So I can take these?” Sansa asked as Tetra dropped the silver Uru ring back to the desk.

 

“Why-ever would you want them?” Tetra asked. “I just thought you might find them interesting.” Then she picked up a book and looked away, leaving the rings out in the open.

 

Sansa understood her meaning. Tetra wanted deniability. She quickly took the rings and got up to leave. When Sansa held Lonaki in her hand, she found a small rolled up piece of parchment folded on the inside of the ring.

 

“Oh, Sansa,” She heard just as she got to the door. “You should remember that in the story Sam, Beric and I were not alone when we broke into the Rock.”

 

 

—————————

 

 

Much to Sansa’s annoyance, Tetra had been correct. While she had the tools to complete her quest, the rings and a map of Casterly Rock’s tunnels, her dilemma unfortunately lay with who she could ask to help her. Her older siblings wouldn’t help her and would immediately betray her to their father. As would Harris. And Aunt Lyanna. And Uncle Beric. In fact anyone in her household would be more than likely to tell her father, and that would lead to her being placed under guard.

 

Some might have taken that as a sign of her plan’s quality, but not Sansa. It took some time and much consultation with Lady, but Sansa finally thought of one who would be a good help to her. If words could not sway him, one of her more low-cut gowns would.

 

“Dagmar.” She found the dark skinned Dragonseed in the stables taking care of the horse that her father had gifted to him on their return North. It was one of the prime stock Ryswell stallions. It would grow to be large and strong, though likely not as large as Dagmar’s dragon. She’d obviously caught him by surprise as he hastily turned and bowed to her, dropping his horse brush.

 

“Princess, I-I hope you are well.”

 

“Well enough now I’m home.” She answered. “Though there is something of an issue I need help to fix.”

 

“Anything.” He had always been eager to help. Other than Arra, he had been the Dragonseed Sansa liked most. Dagmar was kind, earnest and always respectful. Sansa had feeling he fancied her. She felt a twinge of guilt using that to make him help her, but it was to rescue Margaery…

 

“Firstly I wanted to thank you for saving my life,” she began.

 

“It was nothing, Princess.” He shrugged apologetically.

 

Sansa certainly didn’t think so. In the last battle one of the larger Lannister dragons had been targeting her and Sunbeam. They had nearly been in the jaws of that terrible beast when Dagmar and Behemouth had come down on them from above. Together the two of them brought their foe down. Father had once told her that few things will make people closer friends than vanquishing a terrible foe together. Sansa hoped Dagmar felt the same way.

 

She glanced around the stables to make sure any would-be listeners were too far away. Just to be safe, she subtly cast an illusion with her ring to make things look normal. “I need your help extracting someone.” Sansa decided to come right out and say it. “From Casterly Rock.” Subtly leaning forward so that her substantial cleavage might soften the blow.

 

It didn’t.

 

Dagmar was certainly shocked. “What!?” His voice was an octave higher than normal. “That’s where the Lannisters live!”

 

As if I didn’t know that…

 

Sansa was more than grateful for her illusion, else Dagmar would be causing a scene. “I need to get Margaery Tyrell away from Joffrey.”

 

“mARgAeRy TyReLL!?”

 

Should could tell he wasn’t taking it how she had wanted. “I have counted you among my friends.” She leaned forwards again. “I thought I could count on your support…”

 

Dagmar seemed to calm and soften then. “I am glad to be your friend… But this is folly….”

 

“I love her.” Sansa stated before thinking. “I love her and I will not abandon her to Joffrey.” Strangely enough her words did not sound wrong to her. I love her… I love her… “I love her.”

 

There was pity in Dagmar’s eyes then. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I think-…” His words died on his tongue when he turned back to her. Sansa had popped one of her breasts out of her dress. Dacey had once told her that the world would be a much less angry place if everyone got to see some perfect tits every once in a while. It seemed she had been correct as Dagmar was transfixed.

 

“I have a map and magic to mask us.” She said. “Will you help me?”

 

Colour had risen in Dagmar’s cheeks then he looked to the side, clearly a bit embarrassed. Then he looked her in the eye. “When do we leave?”

 

And with that, Sansa knew her plan would succeed.

 

The rest of the preparations were child’s play in comparison. Dagmar got the supplies as Sansa wrote a note to explain her actions and hid it in her room. That night they went to Winterfell’s beast pens and saddled up a Great Falcon, a smaller but swifter cousin of the Great Eagle. With supplies gathered and plan in place Sansa left Lady and Pearl with an emotional farewell and flew into the night with Dagmar.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Swift as their hawk’s wings could carry them, they made their way south to Casterly Rock. They finally glimpsed the great mountain looming on the horizon as the sun began to dip into the sea on the following day.

 

A quick illusion rendered them unnoticed as they made their landing a mile up the coast halfway down a cliff face on a secluded ledge. The wind was strong and bitingly cold, but their position was secure and their ledge stable. After changing into less noticeable attire, Sansa unfurled the map Tetra had given her.

 

“The entrance should be somewhere along here.” She indicated to a marked point just above the sea level at the northern-facing base of Casterly Rock.

 

“Why didn’t your father use this map when he was attacking Lannisport?” Dagmar asked, leaning over her shoulder to see the map.

 

“It’s apparently small and hard to reach.” Sansa explained. “Not as much of an issue for two, but a band of armed warriors would find it difficult.”

 

“And I suppose your father didn’t have this map.” Dagmar chuckled. “You still haven’t told me where you got it from.”

 

“Nor will I.” Sansa answered. “At least until we are home. Just know that the map is accurate.”

 

The sun had almost completely fallen into the sea by the time they finished their plan. Both Sansa and Dagmar had spied Tyrell banners flying in Lannisport so they had a fair chance that Margaery was there. They would search for the entrance to the passage on their hawk’s back and Sansa would dismount and enter Casterly Rock masked with illusions so she could find out more.

 

When it was the hour of the Wolf Dagmar would come back to the entrance and collect her. Hopefully this mission would arm them with the information necessary to safely abscond with Margaery in good time.

 

The salty spray of the sea stung Sansa’s eyes as they flew barely a few feet above the water, looking at the mighty cliff-face before them. While her eyes were watering, Sansa was still a Skinchanger and therefore had excellent vision at night even in her natural form. Dagmar was however a normal man and was near blind but for the dim moonlight.

 

“Perhaps we should return after dawn?!” He shouted over the waves. They had been searching for a while and found nothing.

 

Just then Sansa saw it. “There!” She pointed to a small gap in the rocks covered by an overhang. Using Lonaki, she cast a burst of light to illuminate their target for Dagmar. He urged their hawk close enough for Sansa to jump across. Time seemed to still for her in the moments she hung in midair, leaping from hawk to a rocky ledge.

 

Then the jolt of the impact shocked through her body and Sansa clung to the cliff-face. Then wind tore about Sansa as she got to her legs shakily, but with a firm grip. After checking to make sure it was the entrance, she shooed Dagmar away.

 

“The hour of the Wolf.” He affirmed over the near deafening sound of the waves before he turned the hawk around and made for their secluded ledge. Sansa turned and looked deeper into the cave with a none too small amount of trepidation, her ring lighting the way.

 

I love her…

 

She felt the comforting presence of Lady Malice on her back, looked to the magic rings on her fingers and set her jaw in determination. I am a Stark of Winterfell and I love her. She took the first step into the dark, then the next, then the next.

 

It was a long and winding cave, but Sansa was glad there was only one path, else she might have been lost beneath the Rock forever. It was tight and damp and had an overwhelming smell of mould but she kept on. Eventually Sansa reached the end of the path, which turned out to be a wall of bricks with a small wooden lever set into the rocky wall next to it.

 

This is going to end terribly, Sansa thought to herself as she reached out and pulled the lever. She heard a deep, metallic clunk behind the bricks then they began to shift. The sound of stones slowly scraping together filled the passageway as the brick wall slowly pivoted open with a lumbering groan. Narrow beams of light streamed into the dark as the opening wall revealed a group of large wooden crates seemingly piled against the wall.

 

Fuck…

 

It seemed either someone had forgotten about the secret passageway, or had decided to mask it with large and ungainly obstructions. Either way, Sansa sighed and slowly began moving the crates until there was enough space for her to slip between the gaps. It was at this time she began to curse her infuriatingly abundant curves. Nevertheless, with some huffing and uncomfortable squeezing, Sansa managed to pass into the apparently abandoned storeroom that the passageway lead to.

 

After making sure to mask her escape route, Sansa cast an illusion on herself. She envisioned garb similar to what she remembered the servants in the Red Keep had worn and her clothes began to shimmer and change. Not only that, but her hair changed to a dull, straw-like blonde and though she could not see it, she knew her face was changing to one of a rather plain girl she had seen in King’s Landing.

 

Armed with a perfect disguise and renewed confidence in her plan, Sansa left the small storeroom and made her way deeper into the keep to learn what she could. To Sansa’s dismay, she quickly learned that the wedding of Joffrey and Margaery was well underway and the wedding feast was in full swing.

 

She followed the sounds of people and the near constant line of servants to one of Casterly Rock’s main halls. It was nearly as big as Winterfell’s great hall with a dozen hearths and massive long tables filled with merry feasters. The air was so thick with smells that it made Sansa’s nose wrinkle.

 

After a half-drunken knight older than her father leered her way, Sansa decided it was better to use Lonaki to simply render herself unnoticed rather than camouflaged. Of course this meant she had to be more careful as if some absentminded feaster bumped into her the spell would be broken and she would be seen.

 

The hall was nearly a thousand feet end-to-end with great stone columns lining the walls and scores of ornate gold and crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling, itself covered in paintings of lions and the Lannisters of old. She stuck to the shadows on the outskirts of the hall, bobbing and weaving between the Golden Legionaries that stood still as statues at intervals along the walls. She’d long since formed her silver Uru ring into a knife when she’d first glimpsed them.

 

Men and women were singing and dancing and laughing and eating and drinking. Sansa almost forgot that the Lannisters had very recently lost a war. Though she supposed they imagined their new alliance would strengthen them again. The many toasts lords were giving talking of how they would certainly take King’s Landing and all the other kingdoms back seemed to support her theory. Especially when few lords and knights began to show off Black Uru weapons they had taken from the dead.

 

Eventually Sansa got in sight of the long table. They were all arrayed there, all the worst people she knew sitting beside one of the best. Margaery was sitting in a dignified fashion next to Joffrey, smiling and laughing at his jokes. But Sansa could tell her smiles were false. Her back was as straight as an arrow, which did enhance the look of her prominently placed breasts in her low-cut pale green and gold gown. The sight of her nearly made Sansa’s mouth water, before she regained herself.

 

Next to Margaery sat Joffrey, a smirking worm with a crown upon his head. And beside him was Lord Tywin a chain of golden hands around his shoulders. The sight after nearly made her gag. Tyrion Lannister had never been an attractive man, far from it, but the massive facial scar and lack of a nose made the Imp truly repulsive. Beside him sat Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Unlike most at the feast, he seemed to be not enjoying it in the slightest. Every now and then he tugged at his right sleeve, almost pulling it over the golden hand that had replaced his flesh one.

 

It did not escape Sansa’s attention that Cersei Lannister was not there. She thought it passing strange that the woman would miss her oldest son’s wedding. Though in truth, Sansa did not care enough to think on it more. Margaery was her greatest concern. A shiver of anticipation ran through Sansa before she made her next move. This could no longer be a mission of purely information gathering, she had to whisk Margaery away without a moment’s delay.

 

Her plan was relatively simple. Lonaki could change the perceptions of certain people at the will of its user. She would reveal herself to Margaery and only Margaery. Who would hopefully then make an excuse to leave the feast so Sansa could take her away.

 

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, making her way to stand just before the high table. If she made a mistake here they would take her to the bowels of Casterly Rock and she would never leave.

 

I love her.

 

Margaery noticed her between one heartbeat and the next. She nearly choked on her wine, her eyes wide and transfixed on Sansa. She put a finger to her lips and inclined her head to the side. Margaery seemed to understand Sansa’s instruction when she finished choking. Those around were fussing over her, she’d spilt wine down her cleavage and on her dress as she coughed.

 

She made excuses to go and change, saying she needed to attend her ‘women’s troubles’ again and the men around her instantly let her go. Few things made a man loose interest and turn away like a mention of ‘women’s troubles’.

 

Margaery left the hall, Sansa falling in behind her, taking the form of a maid again to all eyes but Margaery’s. Eventually they made their way to her chambers, Sansa could hear Margaery’s heart thrumming in her chest. Once the door was closed and they were assured of their solitude Margaery whirled around and started on Sansa.

 

“What are you doing here!?” She hissed worriedly, not daring to speak loudly. “Don’t you know what they’d do to you if they caught you?”

 

“Better than you.” Sansa said, handing Margaery a bag containing a woollen shirt, breeches and simple boots. “Get changed, we need to get away quickly.”

 

“Get away?” Margaery asked, holding the bag and looking up at Sansa with her big brown eyes.

 

“Do you want to marry Joffrey?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Then you’re coming to Winterfell with me.”

 

“B-but my family.” Margaery stammered.

 

“Your family will be fine. But at present, my priority is you.” Sansa made her voice as much like her father’s as she could. “You can live with me, safe in Winterfell.”

 

Margaery seemed to think the prospect over for a few moments, then glanced over to an ornate and already strung crossbow that was sitting on a table across the room. She put the clothes on her bed then began to undress. “I suppose being your whore is better than being Joffrey’s queen.” She said, wryly as she undid the bindings of her dress.

 

Sansa was slightly hurt by that, even though she knew Margaery only said it in jest. “You wouldn’t be my whore…” She stepped forth and leaned against the now bare expanse of Margaery’s back. She smelled of roses. “You would be my lover, my wife…”

 

I love you…

 

Margaery turned back at that, with hope in her eyes “You love me?”

 

Sansa froze. She hadn’t meant to say the last bit out loud. Her throat went dry as she looked into Margaery’s expressive brown eyes. Before Sansa knew it, she was being pulled in to a deep, passionate kiss. They were still the softest lips Sansa had ever felt. Their tongues danced together in a waltz of love and lust.

 

“I love you too.” Margaery whispered, before squealing as Sansa shoved her back onto the bed and began undoing her shirt. It was mere moments before she was completely divested of her clothing. Margaery was the same, it seemed she was as eager as Sansa after their time apart.

 

She took time to admire her Tyrell lover as she lay before her, legs open with a catlike smirk. Margaery’s thick brown hair fell in loose curls, forming a halo around her head. Her large, brown eyes were darkened with lust as Sansa noticed Margaery was looking at her body in turn. Her bountiful breasts, almost as large as Sansa’s own rose and fell with every breath, leading down to Margaery’s thin waist and wide hips and a small patch of brown curls just above her womanhood. She was the most beautiful woman Sansa had ever seen.

 

Sansa’s hands found Margaery’s knees and firmly moved them apart, exposing the Tyrell’s rose. “Mine.” She said as she slowly went to her knees and began kissing along the inside of Margaery’s thighs. Her lover shivered almost instantly, moaning prettily. Small kisses and nips along her lover’s ample thighs only sated her for so long, however.

 

Eventually Sansa hungered for the main course.

 

Taking hold of Margaery’s hips, Sansa closed her eyes and felt her way to Margaery’s delectable womanhood with her tongue. Licking, kissing, sucking, even a gentle nibble from time to time. She felt Margaery’s legs wrap around her head as she happily ate away.

 

Sansa had been told she was a natural at pleasuring a woman with her mouth. It was hardly surprising. Her lover tasted like strawberries and the summer. She was warm and inviting with soft, wet, silky lips. First Sansa’s tongue invaded Margaery’s cunt, then her fingers. Margaery cried out, bucking her hips against Sansa’s mouth when her tongue circled her nub as her fingers curled inside her.

 

“Yes! You’re so goood!” and “More!” and “Fuck!” Became common sounds to Sansa’s ears. That and the constant wet lapping that was growing louder and louder by the moment.

 

The entire lower part of Sansa’s face was soaked in Margaery’s pleasure, her essence tasting like victory on Sansa’s tongue. When she opened her eyes, she saw Margaery in the throes of passion, her eyes screwed shut and her face flushed as her hands tugged on her hardened nipples.

 

Sansa decided she’d gone easy on Margaery long enough. She stopped licking her cunt and went to Margaery’s arsehole. Her Tyrell lover bucked in surprise when she first felt Sansa’s tongue loosen her hole but quickly settled, grinding her arse against Sansa’s face. She’d introduced Margaery to the joys of anal play in King’s Landing. In fact Sansa had introduced Margaery to practically everything sexual.

 

It had been amusing in a way. She had come to Sansa acting confident and experienced because she was older, not knowing that all the stories of Starks were true. Sansa had Margaery on her back, screaming her name before the sun had fully set.

 

Once she was satisfied Margaery’s arsehole had been sufficiently lubricated, Sansa pushed a finger in. Sure enough, the wet, muscled ring stretched around Sansa’s finger with practiced ease. Her Tyrell lover began to shudder at having fingers in both of her holes at the same time. After they got back to Winterfell, Sansa would be sure to replicate the position with mummer’s cocks.

 

Above her Margaery was whimpering, her hips rolling against Sansa's fervent worship. “Yes, yes, oh my sweet girl,” she moaned. Her cheeks were flushed, and her thighs tightened, trapping Sansa between them. It was not an unpleasant position to be in. “Seven fucking hells! Ahhhh!” Margaery screamed as she was brought to a rapturous climax. She thrashed and shuddered before she collapsed back onto the bed.

 

Sansa worked her fingers and her mouth against Margaery, drawing out every inch of pleasure she could. After Sansa was done lapping up Margaery’s release, she rose from her knees everywhere from her nose to her breasts soaked in her rose’s pleasure. Her cunt was thrumming with arousal, leaking down her thighs in desire for Margaery to reciprocate.

 

“Come, lover.” Sansa tried to sound suave as she pulled Margaery’s limp form up, their breasts mashing together. Her lover’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, but she still leaned in for a kiss. A kiss that Sansa gladly returned. “I want to see if you remembered my lessons.”

 

Margaery only smiled and giggled, her hands snaking down Sansa’s pelvis to her throbbing cunt. She relaxed against Margaery, feeling the tension leave her body as her lovers fingers slowly teased her womanhood.

 

CRASH!

 

Their moment of bliss was interrupted when the doors to Margaery’s chambers burst open. Sansa sprang from her lover, both still in their nameday suits and summoned Lady Malice to her hand as Margaery screamed. Thoughts of the escape from King’s Landing ran through Sansa’s mind. They wouldn’t take her without blood.

 

She whirled around to see a monster standing in the doorway. Seemingly half a man, half a hellhound like the kind she had read about in the Book of the Stranger. “K-k-knew it was y-y-ooouuu…” The beast said, his guttural voice like that of a growling dog. It was then that Sansa saw the hideous burn across half its face, its blackened armour and the dog’s head carved into his breastplate.

 

“The Hound…?” She said, keeping Lady Malice between the two of them. From the corner of her eye, she could see Margaery hiding by the side of the bed. A jagged grin formed across the Hound’s shifting, monstrous face.

 

“I could smell y-y-yoooouuu in the feeeeaaaast, but I couldn’t see you…” His eyes dragged up and down her form, but Sansa stood firm. “The n-nose never liiies.” He tapped his half-snout with a mailed finger.

 

“Why haven’t you told Joffrey?” Sansa asked, gradually moving between the Hound and Margaery.

 

“S-s-such a p-pretty girlllll…” The Hound responded with a gargle. “I w-wanted you t-to m-m-myself firsst.” His features became more rabid and bestial by the second, his skin going grey and his eyes going black.

 

Sansa was more surprised than scared of the hulking brute. She couldn’t remember more than three sentences they had shared. Clearly enough for him to become infatuated.

 

“You’ll find i’m not some easy prey.” Sansa raised Lady Malice’s curved point to the Hound’s head.

 

His grin only widened, far too many teeth in his mouth. “G-g-g-gooood…”

 

There was a ring as he drew his longsword - Black Uru - Sansa recognised. A fury gripped her then. The Hound was using the sword of one of the men who gave their lives protecting her and her family.

 

Before another thought could cross her mind, the Hound roared and swung at her in a wide arc. Sansa only just managed to block the blow and it sent shockwaves along every bone in her body. It was the hardest hit she’d ever blocked in her life.

 

Dodging seemed the far better option so she leapt back from the next swing. The Hound’s sword cleaved straight through one of the thick wooden bedposts that held up the canopy. She dodged another wild swing, then another.

 

Sansa tried to attack but swordplay had never been one of her strong-suits and the Hound’s reach was far greater than her’s. It was all she could do to stay away from him as he bellowed and raged. A blast of cold she sent his way did not deter him either, the enchantments of his armour glowing bright as her spells swirled and dissipated on contact.

 

His sword was about to strike home when Margaery broke a wooden chair over his head. The blow hardly phased him but gave Sansa a chance to roll away from a blow that would have cut her in twain. The Hound turned and struck Margaery across the room with a backhand, sending her careening into the wooden table.

 

Before Sansa could go to her love, he was on her again, smashing and slashing. Her arm was going numb from the repeated strikes. Sansa tried to use the room’s obstacles to give her time. She put Margaery’s vanity in between them, its surface covered in glass vials of expensive perfumes and face paints from Essos.

 

After a few moments, the Hound lost his temper and smashed the vanity into kindling with one blow of his sword, knocking Sansa to the grown and Lady Malice from her grip. A pungent smell of all the perfumes together exploded in between them, causing Sansa’s eyes to water slightly.

 

He advanced on her again and slipped one of the man viscous liquids that were now spilling all over the floor. Frantically grabbing for anything, Sansa took hold of a bottle that hadn’t broken and hurled it with all her might at the Hound’s face.

 

It caught him right between the eyes and shattered perfectly, the Hound screamed in pain as Sansa scrambled to her feet, feeling for her blade. The Hound had dropped his sword to the ground and was frantically rubbing the stinging perfume and the shards of glass from his eyes and nose, only making it worse.

 

Sansa had a thought now that his senses were dulled. Lornaki projected a perfect copy of herself in front of the Hound. His eyes streaming and bleeding, he stumbled up and tackled the illusion with a hoarse roar.

 

Only he ran right through the projection and right into the swing of Sansa’s blade. The Blue Uru caught him right above the gorget that had come loose some time during the fight. Dark red, almost black blood sprayed out from his neck, covering the both of them in blood. The Hound’s hands went to his neck to stem the flow, his legs gave out under him and he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, half blinded.

 

Sansa, covered in the blood of her foe, threw her head back and roared to the spirits of her ancestors. “I AM A STARK OF WINTERFELL!!”

 

Then the exhaustion took her. On shaky legs, she made her way over to Margaery, who was using the table to hold herself up, a thin line of blood trickling from her mouth as she looked at Sansa in wonderment.

 

Then her look went to shock and before Sansa knew it, a blow struck her on the back of the head and she fell to the ground. The room was spinning as she rolled to the ground, her vision hazy. She looked up and saw the hulking mass of the Hound, seemingly standing only through sheer will, drenched in his own blood.

 

“A-almost P-pretty Bird… A—lmost-!” His words were cut short by the twang of a crossbow and a bolt burying itself deep into his eye socket. The Hound’s mouth fell open, his arms went slack and he fell back to the floor with a clatter of steel and broken floorboards.

 

Dead.

 

Sansa turned behind her to see Margaery holding that ornate crossbow - Joffrey’s crossbow - a look of surprise and shock on her face. As if she wasn’t completely aware of what she had just done. “I guess I could do it…” She whispered to no one at all.

 

“We need to go.” Sansa stumbled to her feet, suddenly remembering this was supposed to be a stealthy operation. They dressed hurriedly, remembering to take the Black Uru Blade back with them. Sansa used Lonaki to cast an illusion on the pair of them as they made their way through Casterly Rock’s winding halls so they would not be noticed.

 

They were nearly at the storeroom when they heard a shouting through the halls. “King Joffrey is dead!” Cried the voice. “The King has been poisoned!”

 

Oh Shit.

 

Margaery looked to her in surprise.

 

“I didn’t do it.” Sansa answered her silent question. But she was far from sad that it happened. “Come, we bust be quick.” They made their way to the small storeroom and the passage out from beneath the Rock.

 

To freedom.

 

 

————————————————————————————————————

The Wolf and the Lioness

 

Two weeks after the War of Five Kings

 

 

In the few days since Ned had returned to Winterfell, he had seriously begun to consider laying down his crown. He found himself understanding why Robert turned to drink. There were so many intricacies he had to be mindful of, the number of which tripled when two more kingdoms were added to his care. He had to make sure that the Vale, the North and the Riverlands would integrate with each other properly. The last thing they needed was for their alliance to fracture from within.

 

To that end Ned had been drawing up lists with his advisers. Lists of marriage pacts between the great houses of each kingdom, lists of children to be fostered, and lists of nobles that will be exchanged between the courts of the three kingdoms. He wanted to be sure that the Riverlands and the Vale both felt that they had a voice in the North.

 

There was even a list of new squires he would have to take on, boys from the Riverlands, Vale and even the North, so his lords didn’t feel they were being excluded. By the end of it, Ned realised he would have nine squires in the not too distant future.

 

They’ll have to be on some form of rotation schedule,  Ned mused to himself as he sat at his desk in his study, warmed by the lit hearth behind him as the autumn snows had begun to fall. Fang was laid down under one of the room’s large windows, clearly as bored as Ned was while Shade was curled up on one of the rafters in the ceiling, her tail hanging down into the room, twitching to and fro as she slept.

 

“I believe we should move on to the Dimeritium and Residuum trade.” Druid Luwin said, sitting across from Ned on the other side of his desk.

 

Residuum and Dimeritium were curious elements. Equal and opposite. While Dimeritium would weaken the bond between a person and the arcane weave, Residuum would strengthen it. There was a certain irony that they could only be found together. And Residuum was particularly important for enchanting objects and the creation of Uru. Thankfully, the North was quite rich in both Dimeritium and Residuum with the Dwarves of Karag Barr sitting on top of the biggest repository of the two elements in all Westeros. Naturally, as the Vale and the Riverlands were now one kingdom with the North, they expected certain trade expenses to be wavered.

 

“The Vale has its own supply, does it not?” Ned asked.

 

Luwin thought for a moment, then answered. “Yes. Royce and Waynwood both have sources along with a few other houses.”

 

“At this moment, the current rate we have going for them is fifteen percent for the Vale and twelve percent for the Riverlands.” Vayon Poole added, running a finger through one of his many ledgers that he and piled on Ned’s desk. Ned had certainly been glad to see his chief steward again, especially since he was more than willing to do Ned’s accounting for him. The man’s near obsession with making lists was also a boon.

 

“Factoring in costs,” Poole continued. “Profit margins along with a reasonable reduction now those kingdoms are under our banner… I say the most we can afford is knocking five percent off their cost.”

 

Hortenn Galaway, Winterfell’s chief scribe scoffed loudly. The man’s shaggy dark hair had started turning grey some time ago and his half-blind lazy eye seemed to grow more lazy by the year. A memento from Brandon, Ned had heard, from a training accident sometime during Ned’s fostership in the Vale. Though Hortenn had never spoken of any ill will towards Ned’s brother, even praising the precision of his strike.

 

“Day and night,” the gruff Galaway grumbled. “I get letters from those Southern lords saying they fully expect to get Northern level costs for our goods now that they have a Stark king.”

 

“That must be a negotiating position.” Ned stated, leaning back in his cushioned chair, his arse growing numb from sitting. “They can’t expect that.”

 

“The distance makes it unfeasible.” Vayon added.

 

Hortenn scratched at the faded scar on his left temple. “With these new portals that are being built, they expect everything to be on their doorstep now.”

 

“We should send letters to the lords paramount of the Riverlands and Vale.” Luwin suggested. “Saying that our offer is a two percent reduction in price in exchange for a ten percent increase in grain and vegetables we receive from them.”

 

Vayon quickly ran the numbers in his head. “We come out ahead in that deal. And not by a small amount.”

 

“And we will negotiate from there.” Ned said. “Hortenn, draft the letters and send them to me for approval before sunset tomorrow.”

 

The Galaway scratched at his beard and grumbled something. Likely a complaint. In all his years Ned had never met a scribe that complained about writing as much as Hortenn, yet also refused to let others do the writing saying ‘They would get it wrong’.

 

Luwin then looked to the next item on their itinerary. “The stone tablet inscribing the names of those who fell in King’s Landing is near completion.” Ned’s mood turned grim, those men had died for him, he would make sure their names were known for the next hundred years or more. “With the Lannisters having returned their remains, their families can properly inter them.”

 

“When they get back with the Queens, of course.” Vayon chuckled.

 

Ned’s wives had not come back with him on dragonback, as they would not leave their newborn babes. So they had been escorted to a ship at Maidenpool and were at present sailing around the coast of the Vale back to White Harbour. The remains of those who died in King’s Landing had been put on the ship with them.

 

“Keep me appraised of the progress.” Ned said. He would be sure to make the unveiling of the stone tablet an occasion to remember.

 

“And on to house Hackk then.” Luwin started.

 

“They’ve been hit particularly hard by the war.” Hortenn stated, shifting in his seat. “With lord Hackk and his oldest sons dead, only young Rydan Hackk, a boy of eight, remains of their line.”

 

Ned remembered Medgar Hackk and his two oldest sons. Medgar had died in the battle by the Green Fork, caught in the flames of Lannister dragons. Eddard Hackk had ridden with Robb and died in the Westerlands. It saddened Ned that a boy who had been named for him had died fighting a war in his name. The twins Calgar and Corin Hackk had died in the war’s final battle.

 

We lost too many good young men in this war,  Ned thought mournfully.

 

“So he shall need a castellan until he comes of age, as I recall he has a fair few uncles.” It was a fairly common thing to happen. He remembered something about his father’s father having needed an uncle to take stewardship of the North until he came of age.

 

“Lady Hackk writes that she fears her Goodbrothers might be unwilling to relinquish their new position when the time comes.” Luwin pulled a letter out from a pile of papers that sat on the desk.

 

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in exasperation. That was also an unfortunate consequence of having uncles be stewards for young nephews. Some saw it as a chance to take their elder sibling’s inheritance for themselves.

 

Like you took Brandon’s from him… A small and dark part of his mind said. “And the Jarl of Thenn cannot handle this situation because? The Hackks are sworn to Thenn are they not?” He was growing tired of this issue.

 

“There was a blood feud a generation or so ago.” Luwin answered. “While the Hackks did stay under the purview of house Thenn, they chafe under their lords. And Jarl Styr is unlikely to help them out of their predicament.”

 

Ned sighed, then turned to his steward. “Vayon, find me a cousin who’s not too busy and relatively competent. Send them to me and I’ll see if they can be of help to us.”

 

“Father.” Ned heard his second eldest daughter’s voice.

 

All four of them looked up at the sound of her. “To what do we owe the pleasure, pup?” Ned asked with a smile.

 

“It can wait if you like.” Ned knew Sansa never liked to cause a fuss if she could avoid it. Unfortunately that sometimes meant she wouldn’t get a word in.

 

“Oh of course not.” He answered her. “We could use a break anyway.” And Ned certainly wanted one.

 

Luwin, Vayon and Hortenn made their exit, leaving Ned alone with Sansa. Ned could see Lady padding over to Fang so she could lay down next to him. “I’m certainly grateful for your intervention.” Ned said over the rim of his cup. “Administrative work is important, but there are fewer things duller.” He chuckled.

 

Sansa nodded and smiled. He could tell there was something on her mind. Those suspicions were confirmed when Sansa tentatively began. “There is a topic I wished to broach with you… Of a personal nature.”

 

“By all means…” Ned would always make himself available for his children.

 

Sansa paused for a moment before committing. “About Margaery.”

 

Ah…

 

Ned remembered that Sansa had become… close with the Tyrell girl. He was certainly not indifferent to that fact, but the truth of the matter was that her family had allied itself with house Lannister. For all they knew Margaery herself had wanted the match.

 

“My dear daughter,” He began, trying to make his voice soft. “I know relationships can be difficult at your age… but-“

 

“She won’t want to marry him!” Sansa interrupted her father in a very uncharacteristic turn that surprised Ned. “I’m sorry-“

 

He raised his hand to stop her. She was clearly unhappy but he had to make her see the truth. “The war is over. What would you have me do?” He asked. “Launch an assault on Casterly Rock for one woman? The Tyrells have allied themselves with the Lannisters, they would not take kindly to us absconding with half of their marriage alliance.”

 

“We have the Mistwalkers,” Sansa offered hopefully. “I know we have our agents in Lannisport and even Casterly Rock itself.”

 

It was true the North had agents in every kingdom. But what Sansa was asking for would require blood. It was not a sacrifice Ned was willing to make. Especially if it could ignite another war when the last one had barely even ended. “Sansa, such a thing wouldn’t be possible even under normal circumstances and as you might agree, these times are far from normal.” Ned was trying to be kind, but his daughter needed to understand.

 

“I know you are fond of her, but it’s an unfortunate truth that sometimes we cannot have what we want. What would we even do with her? Keep her in Winterfell? Would her family just leave her here?” He reached out across his desk and took her hands in his. “I am sorry Sansa, but this cannot be done. There are many other women for you to love.”

 

Sansa started at that. “I don’t love Margaery!” Her voice was so high it might have shattered glass.

 

Ned intended to say more but he was interrupted when the door opened and Cooper came into the study.

 

“Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace.” He bowed slightly. “But a matter has arisen that you ought to know of.”

 

My child is more important,  Ned wanted to say. But it was not a luxury a King could afford. So all he could say was. “We’ll talk more of this later.” Sansa nodded then left the study in a way that made Ned’s heart ache.

 

“I would hope this is of supreme importance.” Ned told Cooper as the Chosen Man stood to attention in his study.

 

“You would certainly think so.” He answered.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned set out from his study at a brisk pace, Hagman and Cooper rushing to fall in step with him. What servants were in their path hastily stood aside for them, not wanting to impede Ned. Something he would have been thankful for had the recent news he received not been filling his mind.

 

How the fuck is Cersei Lannister here?  he wondered to himself. The last Ned had remembered hearing of her, she was making her escape from King’s Landing on dragonback, with Stannis’ own dragonriders pursuing her. Ned had assumed Cersei had either managed to evade her attackers and return to Casterly Rock, or been captured and was being held in the Red Keep. Much as Stannis might not like the woman, he surely knew the importance she held and the bargaining power holding her afforded him.

 

The thought of Cersei being in the North hadn’t even crossed his mind until Cooper had come to him in his study. Rangers in the service of house Greystark had apparently first spotted her and her dragon collapsing in the Greywood. Likely from exhaustion. They had sent word to the Greyhold for wargs and men, thinking a Lannister dragonrider had come North to scout, not knowing she was a queen. They had only found out when she awoke as they transported her to the Greyhold and she demanded to see him. Given the need for secrecy, lord Greystark hadn’t even lent a letter ahead informing Ned of their arrival.

 

All that lead to Cersei being scurried through Winterfell’s hidden passageways with a bag over her head and deposited in one of the Main Keep’s guest rooms, with Ice Guard stationed at the door. As her presence in the castle still needed to be a secret, Ned didn’t discuss any of his thoughts with his companions on their way to see their Lannister prisoner. Ned only spoke again when they reached their destination. “I would see the prisoner.” He told the Ice Guard standing at the door, which they instantly opened for him.

 

Ned walked into the room at a stern pace, the heavy oaken door closing behind him. She was the first thing Ned clapped eyes on. Cersei was sitting on a wooden chair by the fire, likely warming herself. Her hair was messy and tangled, likely from the constant wind of dragonriding. Her dress was disheveled and slightly torn in parts. He was almost loathed to admit it, but none of it detracted from her radiance.

 

She turned to him when she heard him enter, fixing him with her emerald eyes that shone green in the fire light. “I was in that cell for days…” Cersei’s voice dripped with scorn as she rose slowly from her chair and stepped towards him. Ned remembered the last time they had seen each other. He and Arthur had fucked her in the Black cells and left her in quite a depraved state for her to be found in. “I was naked, chained, dripping with your seed… and your…”

 

Ned had almost forgotten what he had done to her in those cells. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. Nor was it something he had done with any other lover. Not even Mellario.

 

“You ravaged me. Body and soul. Defiled me. Befouled me…” Cersei continued. “When I was found by the guards, they were not quick to release me. I earned my freedom from each one of them. Do you want to know what I was thinking?” She asked. “After you ravaged me and left me to be passed around by my own guards?”

 

She was a hair’s breadth from him now, her eyes wide and wild. Ned did not know what to say. He only braced for the attack he knew was coming.

 

“I wanted you to take me again.” She whispered and sprung on him.

 

Ned, who had been expecting to be struck, was stunned to find Cersei pressing her full body against him and mashing her own lips against his with wanton desire.

 

“You took me.” She gasped between kisses. “Made me your whore. I’ve spent every waking moment thinking of how you ravaged me like no other.” Ned was too surprised to react, even as Cersei begun to tug at the strings of her dress, pulling them open with mad, naked lust.

 

“You drive me mad.” She moaned, ripping her dress open and letting it fall to the floor. “Take me. Take me. Take me. I’m your whore.”

 

As the beautiful woman threw herself at him, professing her desire, Ned came to realise she was quite mad. But she had the face of an angel, a body made for sin and the temperament of a needy whore. Ned did not have it in himself to deny her. Especially as his wives were still far away.

 

Even though Ned thought she was a horrible person, he could not deny Cersei was one of the most beautiful women in the realm. Her curves were soft and bountiful, her hair was like spun gold and her skin was flawless porcelain. Ned very much enjoyed running his hands over Cersei’s body as she pressed herself against him desperately, wantonly. She was half mad with desire, laying a thousand kisses on his face as her hands clumsily undid the ties on his breeches.

 

Ned was half a mind to make her wait for her reward. With his metal hand, he gripped her chin. She whined pathetically, looking up at him with her massive green eyes.

 

“Stand by the desk and wait for me.” He ordered in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

 

Cersei’s pupils dilated as she bit her plump lip, clearly weighing his order against her desire. In moments she made her decision, held her chin high and strode over to the desk. Ned certainly enjoyed the pleasant wobble of her meaty arse as she did so. He removed the rest of his clothes and sat on the end of the small bed that the room housed.

 

He looked Cersei in the eye with a smirk. “Come here.” He said. Cersei tried and failed to hide her excitement and took her first steps. “Crawl.” Was all Ned said, his voice soft as thunder.

 

The former queen of the seven kingdoms started at that, her pride clearly still had some hold on her. After a few moments of inner conflict, Cersei’s submissive side seemingly won out. She slowly sunk down to her knees and crawled the rest of the way over to Ned, her eyes never leaving Ned’s cock as it began to harden.

 

When Cersei reached him she sat on her knees, head held high, hands in her lap, back straight and her prodigious breasts fully presented for Ned’s appraisal. Ned found his eyes drawn to Cersei’s long neck, thinking that it looked decidedly bare.

 

“How would you like a golden collar?”

 

Cersei only gave a stifled moan and bit her lip, her thighs slowly rubbing together. Ned reached a hand out to cradle her head, running his fingers through her golden hair. She leaned into him slightly like a cat, before he began to manoeuvre her closer and closer to his now rigid cock. Instinctively, her plump lips parted as she tried to capture the glistening head of his manhood, but Ned kept her just out of reach. With his other hand, Ned took his shaft in hand and slapped Cersei in the face a few times. The loud thwacking of skin on skin bounced off the stone walls of their room. One of many indignities that lay in store for Cersei.

 

“Say thank you.” Ned ordered as he relented, though still held shaft in hand. Cersei only stammered.

 

“Wh-wha-?” She was cut off by another few cock-slaps to the face, her cheeks began to redden under the blows.

 

“Do I need to tell you again?” Ned asked, his grip tightening on her hair. “Say thank you.”

 

“Than-“

 

Thwack.

 

“Thank-“

 

Thwack.

 

“Thank you!”

 

Thwack.

 

“Thank you!”

 

“Good.” Ned finally let go of his cock. “Now smile.” She smiled sweetly. “Surely you can do better than that.” He added as her lips opened and she gave him a strained, pearly white smile.

 

With one hand, Ned pulled Cersei towards his cock. She got the message quickly and opened her mouth wide to accommodate. Ned entered the wet, soft tunnel of Cersei’s throat with a sigh, as he pulled her down his length.

 

The sounds of slapping were now replaced with the sounds of Cersei gagging on his length. On instinct she tried to pull back for air, but Ned did not let her. A shiver than through Cersei as his manhood plunged deeper into her throat. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and watering as her face began to turn red.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed his legs were planted firmly on either side of her kneeling form. Cersei’s hands had moved to the wooden bed frame, her nails digging grooves into the wood as he motioned her head slowly up and down his length.

 

Deciding she had been given long enough to reacclimatise to him, he yanked Cersei by the hair off his cock, allowing her to half-take one deep gulp of breath, before roughly slamming her face back down the whole length of his shaft. With both hands Ned began to move Cersei’s head back on forth on his shaft. It was moments before she went limp in his hands, her eyes rolled back as drool leaked from her mouth.

 

But that did not deter Ned.

 

The Gluck Gluck sounds her throat made as Ned plundered it were music to his ears. Cersei’s mouth was his personal relief and he planned to make good use of it. Eventually, as Ned pushed deeper and deeper into Cersei’s throat, he felt the familiar pressure building to a rapturous crescendo.

 

With a deep growl, Ned held Cersei’s lips to the base of his cock, fully incasing himself in her throat and deposited his seed directly into her stomach. The sudden surprise-meal seemed to shock Cersei out of her stupor, Ned only released her when his cock was done pulsating the last drops of his seed down her throat.

 

She fell back, coughing violently, her spit and Ned’s seed spilling from her mouth and onto her large, shuddering breasts. In that moment, Ned didn’t know which was better, filling Cersei’s throat with his seed or seeing the state she was in afterwards.

 

Either way he was enjoying himself.

 

Ned threw her a rag. “Clean yourself up, have some dignity.”

 

Cersei panted for a time before following his command, wiping herself clean. He didn’t even need to tell her to smile up at him again, she did so without instruction. Ned sat up, gazing down at the work of art that sat before him. A golden lioness who would do anything he wished.

 

“You’ll make a good bedwarmer, at least when my wives aren’t available.” He teased, “I’ll even whore you out to my household.” He grabbed her by the hair and drew her up. "Would you like that?"

 

Cersei only moaned in response, here eyes half-closed. She was eager to please him. And Ned imagined she enjoyed the degradation.

 

“My cock won’t ride itself.” Ned hurried her as she clambered onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.

 

Ned’s other hand groped at Cersei’s fleshy arse, making her moan and rub against him. Once Cersei was comfortably settled, Ned’s hands ran to her slim waist and pushed her downwards forcefully.

 

“Ahh-AHH FUCK!!” She threw her head back, eyes wide and wailing as Ned her down every inch of his throbbing shaft.

 

The walls of her cunt had become very familiar to Ned in the past, it was almost like returning home. Every inch of her hot, silky womanhood gripped his cock tightly. It fit Ned perfectly, having been fucked into submission multiple times. Cersei was shaking, trembling on his cock.

 

Ned leaned back and enjoyed the pleasant view of her shuddering breasts as she tried to control her breathing. Her hands had gone to Ned’s shoulders in a vain attempt to steady herself.

 

After a few moments pushing himself as deep into Cersei’s cunt as he could reach, Ned began to lift her off of him. Inch by inch she rose, cooing softly at the absence of him. Until she reached the end of his cock. That was when Ned slammed her back down with all his might. The clap of her arse cheeks on his thighs was loud as a thunderclap.

 

But Cersei was even louder.

 

“UGH! FUCK YES!” Her body bounced rhythmically on his shaft as he lifted her up and down. It wasn’t long before she was brought to a trembling peak, though Ned did not abate. He fucked her mercilessly through several climaxes, happily watching her mountainous breasts bouncing up and down in time with his thrusts.

 

“Such a good whore.” Ned almost sneered, fucking her cunt as he held her up. “You’ll enjoy when I pass you around to every man in Winterfell, won’t you?”

 

“Yes!” Cersei moaned in response, her mind clearly clouded in a haze of lust and pleasure. Ned decided it was time to ramp up the pressure.

 

If Cersei could understand what was happening through her pleasure-addled mind, she would have found herself being jerked up and down Ned’s member rapidly. He was bucking his hips, pounding her body as she slowly began to roll backward, losing all control of her body and having it soon replaced with a constant rapid firing of more climaxes surging through her. Ned felt the warm embrace of her release coat his cock again and again, begging for his own.

 

“AH! GODS! NED!! UGH!! FUCK ME! I LOVE YOU! I’M YOUR WHORE! FUCK! ME!! FUCK! ME!!!” Cersei shrieked, losing her grip on his shoulders.

 

That didn’t particularly matter so much as Ned still had a firm grip on her hips as he pounded away at them. The increased pace eventually tipped Ned over the edge. Rope after rope of his seed sprayed deep in Cersei’s womb.

 

After making sure every drop of his seed had been deposited, Ned released his iron grip on her hips. Cersei flopped bonelessly to the floor with a dull thud. Ned had slipped out of her when she fell, her loosened cunt overflowing with his seed. Cersei was still in a daze, trembling in the aftershocks of her pleasure as Ned extricated himself from her and walked over to a pitcher he hoped contained wine.

 

Thankfully he was correct.

 

With a glass of icewine in hand, Ned sat back down on the bed. What am I going to do with you? Ned wondered to himself. As it was, nearly half the Lannister family had run off to become the bedwarmer of a Stark. Tywin Lannister would be furious if he found out Cersei was in Winterfell. It was bad enough that Myrcella had chosen to “abandon her family” in Tywin’s eyes. He might even resume the war over the matter.

 

As was what sometimes happened, perhaps more than Ned would admit to, he let his cock do his thinking for him. In fairness, it was a weakness all Starks shared. He’d lost count of the number of wars a Stark started in the Age of Heroes because they were found bedding a neighbouring princess, or queen…

 

Or both…

 

Nevertheless Ned resolved to enjoy his new whore, at least for the day. And deal with the issue tomorrow. He had just fought a war against the Lannisters. They did owe him compensation.

 

Ned finished his cup and manhandled Cersei onto the bed, lying on her stomach with her arse in the air. She could only moan incoherently in protest to being moved. Ned paid it no mind as he lined his sword up with her sheath and plunged deep inside again.

 

That certainly got more than just a moan from his golden lioness. Ned took great pride in watching Cersei’s body writhe and jiggle beneath his thundering cock. Her legs clenching and toes curling on the bed as he slid his hands over her bouncing behind.

 

“AH! AH! FUC-!!!” Cersei thrashed on the bedsheets, shrieking as Ned ploughed her roughly. He had beaten Tywin Lannister in the field, he had beaten his armies and captured his city. Now he was ravaging his daughter again.

 

That was how Ned carried on for some time more. He took Cersei in a range of positions in a range of different places on a range of different surfaces. Cersei was on her back, screaming in delight as Ned ploughed her, when Harper entered the chamber.

 

When he saw Ned and Cersei together, Ned felt a twinge of fear as he thought Harper might have finally cracked and was going to kill him for all the times he’s seen Ned fucking.

 

But then he spoke.

 

“Sansa’s gone.”

 

“What!?” Ned spun in a rage, Cersei completely forgotten.

 

“She left a note. You aren’t going to like where she’s gone…”

 

 

————————————————————————————————————

How to Tame a Dragon’s Soul

 

One month post War of Five Kings

 

 

“Mastering the art of bending fire is a matter of will,” Rhaenys stated, standing straight with her hands behind her back in one of Winterfell’s many training yards. The stone walls were tall and there were no wooden structures to speak of so there was little chance of the castle being burned down. “To master fire, you must first master yourself.”

 

“The other three elements give life.” Jon added, standing beside her. “We breathe air, drink water, grow our food from the earth beneath our feet.”

 

Then Rhaenys spoke again. “But fire doesn’t give life, it is life. It breathes, it grows, it consumes. A rock would sit unmoving for a hundred years if left alone. But a fire left untended will devour and burn until there is naught but ashes.”

 

“Your fire would destroy everything in its path if you do not have the will to control it.” Jon finished.

 

“And that’s why you have us sitting here holding burning leaves?” Robb asked incredulously.

 

Ned could barely hold back his chuckle. Even he had to admit sitting, breathing and holding leaves was not how he expected their training to begin.

 

When Robb came to Ned, asking him if he could be given the ability to bend fire, he denied his son. Until, to his surprise, Melisandre admitted she did not actually need to lie with someone in order to awaken the dragon blood within them. She confessed, she had only said she needed to fuck Ned for it because she was bored.

 

That is what lead both Robb and Ned to sit on the ground in one of Winterfell’s smaller training yards, holding burning leaves and being lectured to by Jon and Rhaenys. As the two most experienced - and incidentally, the only - firebenders in the North, both Jon and Rhaenys had decided not to begin instructing Ned and Robb until she was fully healed from birthing her children. As two teachers would inevitably be better than one.

 

Of course Ned did wonder what Rhaenys needed to be healed for. As they she seemed to spend most of her time shouting at them to breath deeply and feel the heat of the sun. This latest lesson involved handing both of them a leaf that was burning from the centre to the edge. Jon and Rhaenys had instructed them to concentrate and keep the fire from reaching the edges of their leaf for as long as possible.

 

While Ned understood the importance of self control and he certainly recognised the danger of playing with fire. He had to admit the lessons were near boring him to tears. He could tell Robb was of the same mind. Yet they both held their tongues and concentrated on the leaves in their hands.

 

Ned felt it was almost like the way he could control ice, though there were some noticeable differences. As Jon and Rhaenys had said, the fire had a life of its own. It wanted to move outwards. It ebbed and flowed.

 

He had to concentrate to keep the small flames from eating outwards too quickly. Though if he kept the flames firmly in place, they would burn out into nothing. Ned had to let the burning embers gradually move out at a snails pace. He closed his eyes and felt the heat without and within him.

 

“Don’t forget to breathe.” Jon’s voice broke Ned’s silence. Much to his annoyance, Jon had been right, his breathing had become erratic in his concentration on the flames. It took time for him to find his peace again. That was how most of the instruction went for that day in the fourth hour, Ned decided he had spent enough time on training and had matters he needed to attend to.

 

News of an especially important project came to Ned as he sat in his solar looking over ledgers and letters from White Harbour detailing their ship building progress. “We’ve done it.” Sabrina stated as she swept into the room, Yennefer following behind her.

 

“We’ve successfully managed to find the soul-tether.”

 

“So all is ready?” Ned asked, dropping the papers as he stood, a smirk threatening to form on his face.

 

Yennefer nodded. “I think so. Though if you released my mother from her cell, she would be able to say with a certainty.”

 

Ned huffed, rising from his seat and leaving his solar with Sabrina and Yennefer in tow. “Not bloody likely.”

 

When he had found out Tetra had helped Sansa on her expedition south to abscond with Margaery Tyrell Ned had been spitting with fury. It had been the latest in a long line of defiant acts from Tetra. So he’d had her sent to Winterfell’s cells, again. And he wouldn’t release her until she apologised. Unlikely. Or until Ned’s anger simmered down after a time. Or when he had need of her again. At present none such eventuality had happened, so Tetra stayed in her cell.

 

Ned lead the pair of mages through the winding corridors, passageways and halls that made up Winterfell’s main keep. Eventually they came out into a yard with a doorway that lead down below ground. Ned opened the door and ushered his companions down the many stone steps into the ancient Stark sex dungeon.

 

In spite of being underground, its halls were well-lit and had a constant flow of fresh air. Racks and chains and ropes lined the walls, along with several other implements of pleasure. On the far side of the largest hall in the dungeons stood a massive bookcase stacked to the roof with erotic novels and guides on how one might become a skilled lover.

 

Ned had read every one of them.

 

Alas Ned had not taken Yennefer and Sabrina into the sex dungeon for the usual reasons, at least not immediately. In one of the smaller rooms Darksister, one of the Targaryen family swords, was placed on a weapon stand. Around it were brass instruments of a magical nature Ned could not discern. Crystals, pearls and other gems were arrayed on those brass instruments with a chalk pattern marked into the table beneath the sword.

 

“Will it work?” Ned asked as Sabrina and Yennefer followed him into the room.

 

“We think so.” Sabrina answered, producing a vial of Rhaenys’ blood she had taken earlier that day.

 

“Then by all means, commence the ritual.” Ned ordered. Yennefer and Sabrina only nodded then went to stand on opposite ends of Darksister and began to chant.

 

Everyone knew that souls moved on from their current plane when they died. It was the way of the world. Once a soul was split from its body, it was near impossible to bring it back. But those rules could be bent on occasion.

 

For instance if someone had died when they were not at peace, say in the middle of a battle. And if the weapon that cut that someone’s soul from their body was in the possession of a number of incredibly powerful magic users… And if there was a person who carried that someone’s blood and gave it willingly to said powerful magic users…

 

Well, then there was wiggle room within the rules of nature.

 

The brass instruments began to spin, sparking with arcane energy as Sabrina and Yennefer continued their incantation. The chalk began to flare and shine brightly with radiant fire. The assorted gems began to glow and rise into the air around Darksister. Ned felt the earth shake under his feet as the lights shone brighter. Sabrina poured Rhaenys’ blood onto the Valyrian steel blade, it ignited instantly, burning bright purple.

 

The light from the ritual was near blinding for Ned, he had to shield his eyes. It was then he began to hear something. A voice. Not that of Sabrina or Yennefer. A voice that was coming from Darksister. No… Ned thought, the fire on Darksister…

 

Ned strained his eyes to look into the bright purple flames as the voice became stronger, louder. He could nearly tell what the voice was saying when he saw the hint of a face in the flames. A face he had not seen in over two decades.

 

Rhaegar Targaryen.

 

“W-w-w-WHhhhHhHaaAAAATttTtTTTttTtTt IIIIIIiiiisSSSsSssSssSS TtTttttThhhHHhHIIIIiiiIIsSSSssS!!?” Howling, pained words screamed from the flames in a thousand echoing voices as Sabrina and Yennefer kept chanting.

 

More slurred words followed. “HhhhHH-YY-eeEELLlllLllPPPP MmmMMMmeEEEEEeeeE-EeEeeEeEE!”

 

It was an incredibly old ritual they were enacting. Tetra had come to Ned with an idea the day they had returned to Winterfell. She suggested it was possible for them to bind the departed soul of Rhaegar Targaryen to a place of their choosing. The whole thing was only possible thanks to their current possession of Darksister. As it was the weapon that was used to kill Rhaegar. There was power in King’s blood and in a King’s sword. The act of killing Rhaegar with his own sword had made Darksister a tether for his soul, keeping a part of him connected to their plane of existence, Tetra had explained.

 

After time and consultation with Lyanna, Ned decided to give permission of the ritual to be enacted. If only so they could watch Rhaegar’s soul be imprisoned in eternal torment. Through the chanting and the wails of the Rhaegar’s echo and the deafening void of the soul-realm they had pulled him from, the ritual eventually ended with a blinding flash of light.

 

“Wh-wh-what is this?!?” Ned heard a shrill voice calling out as the light eventually returned to the room. Before Ned’s eyes he saw Rhaegar Targaryen sitting in an iron chair across the room, straining against the glowing runes that held him in place.

 

It was not a perfect image of the prince. His form was tinted purple and half-fading away. He was a shade of the man Ned had once seen battling Robert in the waters of the Trident. Rhaegar looked up from his bonds and saw Ned in confusion.

 

“What game is this, Stark?!?” He spat.

 

“Oh be quiet.” Yennefer said, waving her hand.

 

To Ned’s surprise, Rhaegar’s ethereal mouth disappeared entirely, rendering him mute. This certainly seemed to distress the Targaryen as he strained against his bonds even harder, trying desperately to break away. But to no avail.

 

Ned looked to Sabrina and Yennefer, who both looked more than a little worn out by their ritual. “It’s not a perfect rendition, but it should suit our needs.” Sabrina seemed satisfied, walking over to Rhaegar and pushing her hand through his ethereal body. Another thing that would have sent Rhaegar screaming in terror if he had a mouth to voice his fear.

 

“We will need to find a way to physically touch the shade though.” She added. “Lyanna said something to me about using it as a punching bag.”

 

Ned didn’t answer her, he only looked down upon Rhaegar. The man who had done such evil to his family. Jon Arryn had once told him that revenge was a fool’s game. He had been correct, as he often was. But he’d never told Ned just how satisfying it would feel.

 

 

—————————

 

 

Ned bided his time until his wives returned to Winterfell. They were a welcome sight, as were the babes they brought with them. Ned had found his hands itching to hold them since he had arrived home. He would do everything in his power to make the world a good and peaceful place for his children to grow old in.

 

Cat and Ash were the first ones Ned told of his plans. They were eager to help. That’s what lead to Ned walking with Elia through the Stark sex dungeon late at night. Ned was holding her hand as she wore a blindfold to mask the surprise. Eventually they got to the room that had Rhaegar’s shade bound to what they now referred to as the ‘cuckold’s chair’

 

“You said you had a surprise for me…” Elia said warmly as Ned closed the door behind them. “Do you not think our dear wives might grow jealous?”

 

“Our dear wives convinced me that this gift should be yours alone.” Ned hummed into her ear, urging her forwards with a hand on the small of her back. Besides, they both had said they wanted to ‘break in their new whore’ referring to Cersei.

 

Eventually she stood in the centre of the octagonal chamber, facing Rhaegar with her back to the large bed. “This is something that has apparently been in the works since Darksister came to Winterfell.” Ned slowly unwrapped the blindfold.

 

Elia blinked in the warm light of the glowing orange crystals that illuminated the dungeon. She rubbed her eyes until they focused on what lay before her. She started in shock, looking from Ned back to Rhaegar, who was trying to speak but his mouth had been left sealed so all he could manage were muffled shouts.

 

Elia seemed more shocked than anything. “What is this?”

 

“Rhaegar’s spirit.” Ned explained. “Bound to that chair in this dungeon using Darksister and a few ancient and some entirely original rituals.” He moved over to the table that sat next to Rhaegar’s chair, an array of implements lying atop it. “He can only be touched by these things.” Ned picked up a rod and bonked Rhaegar on the head with it. The translucent shade seemed very annoyed at that, looking at Ned with hate in his eyes.

 

Elia stood still for a moment, contemplating the situation. Ned was content to wait for her. Eventually a sinister smile spread across her features. “Oh… This is going to be fun…”

 

“If you wanted to hear his voice again, this wand will unseal his mouth if you hit him with it. It will also render him only able to tell the truth as he knows it.” Ned lifted the wand from the table.

 

“There are things I want to ask him.” Elia stated, walking closer to them. “For that, I require him able to answer.” Ned handed her the rod. She did not hesitate before smacking Rhaegar over the head with it. The loud CRACK echoed off the stone walls.

 

“Elia? What is this?” Rhaegar’s voice came into focus as his mouth returned. “How are you here? Where is this place?”

 

Elia sealed his mouth before she spoke. Ned felt it best to stand back and let them talk. “You are in Winterfell. I am here because I live here.”

 

She hit him again.

 

“Ah! I demand you stop that! I am your husband, you will obey me!”

 

CRACK

 

“You’ve been dead over twenty years, you have no power over me.”

 

CRACK

 

“That can’t be true. That’s impossible!” Rhaegar seemed to grow distraught at the news of his death. “I’m the Blood of the Dragon, I am the-“

 

CRACK

 

“You are a bad memory.” Elia stated. “When I heard Robert and Ned killed you on the Trident I wept with joy.”

 

CRACK

 

“That can’t be true. I am your husband. You are devoted to me.” He nodded towards Ned. “This Northern barbarian has clearly put a spell on you.”

 

CRACK

 

Elia looked from Ned, then to Rhaegar. “I fucked him in Harrenhal after you crowned Lyanna.” She said. “Aegon is Ned’s son, not yours.” Rhaegar began to thrash against his restraints.

 

CRACK

 

“You lie. The dragon must have three heads, Aegon was my son!”

 

CRACK

 

“Enough of your fucking prophecy!” Elia shouted. “You abducted a child and started a war that brought your entire fucking dynasty down because of that damn prophecy.” The rage seemed to bubble within Elia. “My world grew so much brighter the day you died. I moved to Winterfell, I married Ned, Ash and Cat, had more of Ned’s babes.” She laughed then. “Rhaenys is here too. She sees Ned as a better father than you ever were. She’s married to Ned’s oldest son and they have children of their own. Day and night the two of us get our backs blown out by our Stark men!” She threw the wand across the room then, it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.

 

“Ned, get naked and give me that cock.” Elia barked.

 

Ned hardly needed to be told twice. He quickly disrobed, as did Elia. She practically leapt into Ned’s arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him into a passionate embrace. Their tongues danced a lusty rhythm together, re-familiarising themselves with each other after time away.

 

“Gods, you even kiss better than him.” Elia giggled when they pulled apart for air.

 

“I should hope so.” Ned carried her over to the bed and dropped her down on the silken sheets.

 

Elia’s body still held some of the softness from carrying his children but that made her all the more beautiful in Ned’s eyes. Her breasts had swelled to even larger than before. The same with her arse which she presented to Ned teasingly, having turned onto all fours on the bed so she could look right at Rhaegar as Ned took her.

 

“I would ask you to start slowly, my love.” Elia smiled back at him. “It’s been far too long since your gargantuan manhood has plundered my depths.”

 

She was putting a performance on for Rhaegar, showing just how much she had been enjoying life without him. Ned was all too happy to oblige her. A loud CRACK echoed through the room as Ned smacked her on the arse.

 

Elia wiggled her hips enticingly as she moaned in delight. They were both going to enjoy this quite a bit. Ned climbed onto the bed as Elia spread her knees wider and arched her back, presenting both her vulnerable holes to him.

 

“Take your wife, my wolf.” Elia purred. “She is eager to please you.”

 

Ned cracked a sly grin. “Just as he is to please you.” One hand went to her hip and the other to the base of his fully hardened cock.

 

“Which hole do you think he will take first?” Elia sarcastically asked Rhaegar. “My cunt or my arse? He takes both regularly of course-!” Her words were cut off by Ned pressing the head of his cock an inch into her vice-like cunt. With delight, Ned watched as a violent shiver ran through every inch of Elia’s bodacious form. Her rich bronzed skin rippled in anticipation of her pleasure.

 

“I think i’ll start with your cunt, my dear.” Ned began to press deeper into her, spreading her cunt wider with his encroaching girth. Elia gasped and moaned and purred, pressing back against Ned, begging for more.

 

“Gods, even after all these years, your massive cock never fails to fill me completely.” Elia sighed contently before calling out to Rhaegar. “His cock’s three times bigger than yours even when it’s soft!”

 

Ned pressed a few more inches into Elia, making her squeal in delight. He could feel every inch of her velvet tunnel quivering around his shaft, stroking him, begging for his seed. Just as it had a million times before.

 

“You’re nothing compared to Ned or his cock!” Elia moaned. “It’s so fucking- oh Gods, oh Gods - Ah!”

 

Her moans turned to panting as Ned pulled back and impaled her again, fucking deep into her cunt. Ned knew he had gone deeper into Elia than any other, because she’d screamed it many times while they made love. But there was still a certain satisfaction to seeing her wail about his prowess to her former husband. He knew his cock stretched her in ways Rhaegar could never dream of. Now Rhaegar knew it too.

 

Ned’s thrusts were slow, but forceful, he was precise and unyielding in his movements. Elia’s hands were white-knuckled into the end of the bed, her thighs shaking and toes curling. Though she never stopped looking at Rhaegar, not for one moment.

 

At the steady, but relentless pace, her climax was an imminent inevitability. Ned felt the telltale fluttering of her cunt before a sudden rush of warmth as Elia bathed his cock in her pleasure. With her whole body beginning to tremble in delicious euphoria, Ned pulled Elia up by her arms so her back was against his chest.

 

“Let your heart run adrift.” He whispered in her ear. “Say the words you know to be true.”

 

“I love you!” Elia sobbed, tears forming in her eyes. “I always have. And I thank the Gods every day that I have been able to live here with you.”

 

Ned pulled her into a deep kiss again, even more fervent than the first. After a few bouts of tongue-wrestling, Ned let her flop back down to the bed.

 

Even as Elia’s cunt shivered and spasmed around Ned, his pace never wavered. He kept ploughing Elia’s field hungrily, mercilessly, tirelessly. Ned hammered her cunt again and again, ramming his shaft into her womb.

 

“I fucking looooove yooooouuuu.” Elia’s half-slurred moans were partially muffled by the bedsheets as she had not the strength to lift her head. Rhaegar only raged against his restrains, his cries of indignation muffled by his mystic gag.

 

Ned began to rain blow after blow on Elia’s arse, before long her cheeks were turning red. She only climaxed and begged for more. Ned upped his relentless pace, feeling his own climax approaching. With a thumb up Elia’s arse and a fist full of her hair, he pulled her back onto him as far as she would go. Every inch of his footlong cock was buried deep inside Elia, depositing his seed directly into her womb. Ned would not be surprised if he had just impregnated her again. The thought pleased him.

 

“I’m not done with you yet.” Ned said, before taking Elia’s leg and flipping her onto her back, while still sheathed fully inside her. He pulled her up until she was sitting in his lap, face to face with him.

 

“Isn’t that better?” Ned asked, beginning to thrust his still-hard cock up into Elia’s sodden cunt.

 

Elia only moaned lethargically, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. This position was much closer than their last one. Ned could feel every inch of Elia’s fleshy body against him. Her monumental breasts were pressed against his chest, her arse was gyrating on his hips.

 

Ned was smothered in Dornish beauty and he was completely content with that.

 

After a time spent riding Ned, Elia seemed to catch her second wind. Her movements grew more intense as she humped her hips against him. It seemed every moment was punctuated by kisses. Her plump lips were locked on to his every moment they could, only parting for air.

 

With a hand on Elia’s sumptuous arse and the other cupping a breast, Ned growled. “Who owns your cunt?”

 

There was no hesitation. “You do!”

 

“Who?”

 

“You do!” She said, louder.

 

“WHO!?”

 

“MY HUSBAND EDDARD FUCKING STARK! HE OWNS MY CUNT!” Elia screamed as they both rose to their mutual climax, drenching the room with the smell of sex and pleasure.

 

They rested their foreheads together as they came down from their mutual high. The bedsheets were tangled around them, stained in their pleasure and sweat, warmed by their intense heat.

 

After near an eternity in each other’s arms, panting, Elia suddenly broke the silence. “So is my arsehole next?”

 

Ned only laughed, his cock growing harder again. Their night was far from over.

 

 

Notes:

And so the second round of shorts begins. I hope you enjoy it, there are quite a few more to come.

The Sansa short was a long one, can you tell it was a cut storyline from the previous chapters? The other two Ned shorts contained ideas I had been ruminating for a while. And now we finally have some inkling of Ned’s tax policy for the North. The next chapter of shorts will hopefully not take as long to write as well as having more shorts. It’ll cover a range of characters over a longer time timeframe than this chapter.

Until next time on When Winter Comes!

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Chapter 33: Appendix

Appendix

 

The King of Winter

The Starks trace their descent from Brandon the Builder and the ancient Kings of Winter. For thousands of years, they ruled from Winterfell as Kings in the North, until Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, chose to swear fealty to Aegon the Conquerer in exchange for a Marriage-pact and dragon eggs. Their blazon is a grey Direwolf on an ice-white field. The Stark words are Winter Is Coming.

 

EDDARD STARK, King of the North, Vale, Riverlands and Themyscira, King of Winter, Lord of the Amazons, Stark of Starks,

  —his direwolf, FANG,

  —his dragon, SNOWSONG,

  —his great eagle, {SNOWFLAKE}, slain protecting Sansa and Arya as they escaped King’s Landing,

  —his shadowcat, SHADE,

  —his snowbear, BORGGER,

  —his raven, BASTARD,

 

—his first wife QUEEN ASHARA, of House Dayne,

  —her direwolf, STARLIGHT,

—their children:

    —PRINCESS ALYSANNE, the eldest daughter, nineteen,

      —her direwolf, STEELCOAT,

      —her dragon, STARBURST,

      —her snowbear, GWYN,

    —PRINCESS ALYRIANNE, a girl of fourteen,

      —her direwolf, MAIDEN,

      —her dragon, ICEBONES,

    —PRINCE ARHTUR, a boy of ten,

      —his direwolf, BARKER,

      —his dragon, DAWNBREAKER,

    —PRINCE ALARIC, a boy of seven,

      —his direwolf, BITER,

      —his dragon, BIGBITER,

    —PRINCE HOSTER, a newborn boy,

      —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

    —PRINCESS SYANNA, a newborn girl,

      —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

—his second wife QUEEN CATELYN, of House Tully,

  —her direwolf, REDMANE,

—their children:

    —PRINCE ROBB, the heir to Winterfell, a twin to Jon, twenty years of age,

      —his direwolf, GREY WIND,

      —his dragon, GNASHER,

    —PRINCE JON, a twin to Robb, twenty,

      —his direwolf, GHOST,

      —his dragon, MOONHOWLER,

      —his gradungr, TOOTHLESS,

    —PRINCESS SANSA, a girl of eighteen,

      —her direwolf, LADY,

      —her dragon, SUNBEAM,

      —her dove, PEARL,

    —PRINCESS ARYA, a girl of fourteen,

      —her direwolf, NYMERIA,

      —her dragon, SEER,

    —PRINCE BRANDON, called BRAN, eleven,

      —his direwolf, SUMMER,

      —his dragon, BRAN,

      —his eagle, RAVEN,

      —his raven, EAGLE,

    —PRINCE RICKON, a boy of eight,

      —his direwolf, SHAGGYDOG,

      —his dragon, CHOMPER,

    —PRINCESS PERIANNE, a newborn girl,

      —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

    —PRINCESS SERANA, a newborn girl,

      —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

—his third wife QUEEN ELIA, of House Martell,

  —her direwolf, DUNE,

    —her former husband, {RHAEGAR TARGARYEN}, killed in battle by ROBERT BARATHEON, beheaded by EDDARD STARK,

       —her child with Rhaegar:

            —PRINCESS RHAENYS, her eldest daughter, twenty-two years of age, wife of ROBB STARK,

              —her direwolf, MOONEY,

              —her dragon, SALVATION,

    —her children with Eddard:

         —{AEGON}, Elia’s firstborn son, slain by GREGOR CLEGANE?

         —PRINCESS MORIGGAN, a newborn girl,

            —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

         —PRINCE BALIN, a newborn boy,

            —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

         —PRINCE LEWYN, a newborn boy,

            —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

—his fourth wife QUEEN HIPPOLYTA OF THEMYSCIRA,

—his siblings:

—{BRANDON STARK}, his elder brother, murdered by the command of Aerys II Targaryen,
   
    —his direwolf, ENDEAVOUR,

    —his dragon, GNASHER, taken a new rider, Robb Stark,

—PRINCESS LYANNA STARK, his younger sister, a Witcher, sometimes called WOLF MOTHER,

    —her direwolves, FREKI, FREYA, BRIDDA, HILDA,

    —her dragon, SAERAXYS,

 

—PRINCE BENJEN STARK, his younger brother, Grand Marshal of the North, member of the Winterfell Council

  —his direwolf, WARDEN,

  —his dragon, WINDERFRÖST,

—PRINCESS RHEA, of house Thenn, Benjen’s wife,

           —her direwolf, AXE,

         —their children:

            —PRINCE ALFRED, his eldest son, nineteen years of age,

              —his direwolf, UHTRED,

              —his dragon, FROSTMOURN,

            —PRINCE OSRIC, the second son, seventeen,

              —his direwolf, TOOTHLESS,

              —his dragon, PALEWING,

            —PRINCESS JEYNE, the eldest daughter, fifteen,

              —her direwolf, MAMMOTH,

              —her dragon, CLOUD CHASER,

            —PRINCE JEOR, a boy of twelve,

              —his direwolf, WOOFIE,

              —his dragon, ICEBREAKER,

 

    —PRINCE BERIC STARK, his great-grand uncle, father to Yennefer, Witcher, called BLOOD WOLF, master-at-arms and swordmaster of Winterfell,

      —his direwolf, ROACH,

      —his dragon, {BLACKADDER}, died from ill health derived from wounds received during the War of the Nine Penny Kings,

 

—PRINCE ROBB STARK, heir to Winterfell

    —his first wife PRINCESS RHAENYS, of House Targaryen,

    —their children:

      —PRINCE AEGON, a newborn son,

        —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

      —PRINCESS LYARRA, a newborn daughter,

        —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

    —his second wife PRINCESS MYRANDA, of House Royce,

      —her direwolf, RUNE,

 

—PRINCE JON STARK, Robb’s younger twin,

    —his first wife PRINCESS YGRITTE, of House Ryder,

      —her direwolf, EMBER,

    —their children:

      —PRINCE TORMUND, a newborn son,

        —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

      —PRINCE IVAR, a newborn son,

        —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

    —his second wife PRINCESS VAL, of House Ryder,

      —her direwolf, PEARL,

    —their children:

      —PRINCESS GENNA, a newborn daughter,

        —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

      —PRINCE ALARIC, a newborn son,

        —his direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

    —his third wife PRINCESS MYRCELLA, of House Lannister,

      —her direwolf, DELIGHT,

    —their children:

      —PRINCESS JOANNA, a newborn daughter,

        —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

      —PRINCESS JEYNE, a newborn daughter,

        —her direwolf, UNNAMED,

 

—PRINCESS ALYSANNE, the eldest daughter,

    —her husband, DONMAR, of house Thenn,

        —his direwolf, SPEAR TIP,

 

—Stark household:

—SER ARTHUR DAYNE, his good-brother, counsellor, swordsmanship instructor to his children, 

    —his squire, LEONARD DHALARK,

—HIGH DURID LUWIN, member of the Winterfell Council, healer, advisor, tutor,

—VAYON POOLE, chief steward of Winterfell, member of the Winterfell Council,

     —JEYNE, his daughter, Sansa’s closest friend,

—TETRA GILCREST, cold hard bitch, Rectoress of the Palace of Magic, lover of Beric, mother of Yennefer,

    —her direwolf, MOON EYES,

    —her raven, RUTTER,

—YENNEFER, TRISS, SABRINA, Mages of Winterfell, members of the Winterfell Council,

—HARPER, captain of the Chosen Men, member of the Winterfell Council,

—HAGMAN, HARRIS, COOPER, PERKINS, ISAIAH, Chosen Men,

—RANGER MARTYN CASSEL, lord commander of the Winter City Watch, Jory’s father,

    —RANGER JORY CASSEL, captain of the guard, member of the Winterfell Council,

—HORTENN GALAWAY, Winterfell’s chief scribe,

—HALLIS MOLLEN, DESMOND, JACKS, PORTHER, QUENT, ALYN, TOMARD, VARLY, HEWARD, CAYN, WYL, Ice Guard,

—OSHA, Ice Guard, sworn shield to the younger Stark children,

—NUBIA, Amazon warrior, sworn shield of Eddard Stark,

—BRIENNE TARTH, called BRIENNE THE BLUE, sworn shield to the wives of Eddard Stark,

—THISTLE, Winterfell beastmaster, member of the Winterfell Council,

—MONFRYD GUNN, leader of the Engineer’s Guild, member of the Winterfell Council,

—SER ETHAN GLOVER, a master-at-arms,

—THEO ‘BUCKETS’ WULL, Winterfell’s weapon master, can drink anyone in Winterfell under the table,

—RANGER RODRIK CASSEL, a master-at-arms, Jory’s uncle,

    —BETH, his young daughter,

—ARRA BRIGHTWAY, bastard daughter of Eddard Stark, Witcher, has claimed a dragon,

    —her dragon, WANDERER,

—DAGMER SNOW, a dragonrider in service to house Stark,

    —his dragon, BEHEMOTH,

—CARA SNOW, a dragonrider in service to house Stark, sister to the traitor Cleaton,

    —her dragon, SQUID’S BANE,

—MAREI, a lusty servant,

—SEPTA LEMORE, tutor to Lord Eddard’s daughters,

—MIRABEL GARLICK, keeper of the glass gardens,

—HULLEN, master of horse,

    —his son, HARWIN, a guardsman,

—JOSETH, a stableman and horse trainer,

—FARLEN, kennelmaster,

—OLD NAN, storyteller, once a wet nurse,

    —HODOR, her great-grandson, a simpleminded stableboy,

—GAGE, the cook,

—DORKK, Grand Forgemaster, chief smith of Winterfell,

—MIKKEN, mastersmith and armorer,

—LEMAN RUSS, LYONEL JONSON, ROBETT GULLYMAN, VULKAN, ROGAL DORN, CORACKS, Witchers of some repute that reside in Winterfell and the surrounding Winter City

—SYRIO FOREL, former First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos, Waterdancing instructor to Arya,

—GENDRY WATERS, smith’s apprentice, bastard of Robert Baratheon,

 

—the people of the Winter City:

    —SER MARK RYSWELL, a master-at-arms, castellan of the Winter City’s northern gate,

    —ALY SNOW, a dragonrider, Captain of the Rook Hounds gang,

        —her dragon, ICEWING,

    —REAMUS POOLE, member of the Winter City Pooles, a former Ice Guard now Aly’s second in command,

    —ROS, one of the most expensive whores in the city,

    —ROMAR, called THE RAT, Captain of the Ratway gang,

    —MENNHART, a Grandmaster Bladesinger, overseer of the Winter City Fencing school, older half-brother of Sylvie,

        —some of his students:

        —LYARRA, eldest daughter of Eddard Stark and Sylvie of the Wolfswood,

        —DACEY, second daughter of Eddard Stark and Sylvie of the Wolfswood,

        —JORMUN, son of Eddard Stark and Sylvie of the Wolfswood,

    —DANELAD VANDERVILT, head of the Vandervilt family,

    —CLARISSA VANDERVILT, a Mistwalker, member of the Vandervilt family,

    —SER SOLOMON SNOW, called THE KNIGHT OF BLOODSTONE, in the employ of the Vandervilt family,

    —CHATAYA, proprietor of a Stark-owned brothel in the Winter City,

        —ALAYAYA, her daughter,

        —DANCY, MAERI, two of Chataya's girls,

 

—Masterly houses sworn to House Stark:

    —House CASSEL

    —House POOLE

    —House MOLLEN

    —House DORN

    —House GALAWAY

    —House JONSON

    —House GULLYMAN

    —House RUSS

 

—his principal lords and ladies bannermen:

    —SER HELMAN TALLHART, Master of Torrhen’s Square,

    —RICKARD KARSTARK, Lord of Karhold,

    —ROOSE BOLTON, Lord of the Dreadfort,

    —JON UMBER, called GREATJON, Lord of Last Hearth,

    —GALBART and ROBETT GLOVER, Lords of Deepwood Motte,

    —WYMAN MANDERLY, Lord of White Harbor, Grand admiral of the eastern fleets,

    —MAEGE MORMONT, the Lady of Bear Island,

    —HOWLAND REED, Lord of Greywater Watch,

    —IVOR STILLWATER, Master of Stillwater,

    —RODRIK RYSWELL, Lord of the Rills,

    —ALFRED MARTARK, Lord of Moat Cailin,

    —BARTHOGAN SEAWOLF, Lord of Saltcliff,

    —MANCE RYDER, Lord of the Blaze keep, Grand admiral of the western fleets,

    —BJORN AN CRAITE, Jarl of Khaer Parravel,

    —STYR THENN, Keeper of Thenn-watch,

    —LYESSA FLINT, Lady of Widow’s Watch,

    —MAG MAR TUN DOH WEG, called MAG THE MIGHTY, Great chief of the Giant clans,

    —DONMAR DHALARK, Lord of Aly’s keep,

    —SYLVIE, Lady of the Wolf’s wood,

    —GORREK HAMMER-HAND, Thane of the Khazak Ruul,

    —THORGRIM GRUDGEBRINGER, Thane of the Kharaz Hill,

    —MALAKI MAKKISON, Thane of the Karag Barr,

    —BALGRUUF NORD, Jarl of Whiterun,

    —ATLAN, Lord of the under-sea,

    —ROBERT RARKER, Lord of Ramsgate,

—the great chieftains of the mountain clans:

    —HUGO WULL, called BIG BUCKET, or THE WULL, older brother of Theo,

    —BRANDON NORREY, called THE NORREY,

        —BRANDON NORREY, the Younger, his son,

    —TORREN LIDDLE, called THE LIDDLE,

        —DUNCAN LIDDLE, his eldest son, called BIG LIDDLE, a man of the Night’s Watch,

        —MORGAN LIDDLE, his second son, called MIDDLE LIDDLE,

        —RICKARD LIDDLE, his third son, called LITTLE LIDDLE,

    —TORGHEN FLINT, of the First Flints, called THE FLINT, or OLD FLINT,

        —BLACK DONNEL FLINT, his son and heir,

        —ARTOS FLINT, his second son, half-brother to Black Donnel.

 

The principal houses sworn to King Eddard are Karstark, Martark, Umber, Flint, Seawolf, Mormont, Nord, Greystark, Hornwood, Rarker, Ryder, An Craite, Reed, Cerwyn, Thenn, Manderly, Glover, Tallhart, Dhalark, Royce, Egen, Waynwood, Sunderland, Hunter, Lynderly, Grafton, Redfort, Templeton, Corbray, Belmore, Melcolm, Hersy, Darry, Frey, Mallister, Bracken, Blackwood, Whent, Smallwood, Mooton, Goodbrook, Ryger, Piper, and Vance.

 

 

 

The King on the Iron Throne

 

The youngest of the Great Houses, born during the Wars of Conquest. It’s founder, Orys Baratheon, was the bastard brother of Aegon the Dragon. Orys rose through the ranks to become one of Aegon’s fiercest commanders. When he defeated and slew Argilac the Arrogant, the last Storm King, Aegon rewarded him with Argilac’s castle, lands and daughter. Orys took the girl to bride, and adopted the banner, honours, and words of her line. The Baratheon sigil is a crowned stag, black on a golden field. Their words are Ours is the Fury.

 

STANNIS BARATHEON, the First of His Name, the older of King Robert's brothers, formerly Lord of Dragonstone, secondborn son of Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lady Cassana of House Estermont, called THE STERN, claims kingship over all Westeros but only controls the Stormlands and the Crownlands,

—his dragon, BAELYS,

 

—his wife, LADY SELYSE of House Florent,

—SHIREEN, their only child, a girl of sixteen,

—her dragon, THRUUDA,

 

—his uncle and cousins:

—SER LOMAS ESTERMONT, an uncle,

—his son, SER ANDREW ESTERMONT, a cousin,

 

—his Kingsguard:

    —SER RICHARD HORPE, Lord commander,

    —SER ROLLAND STORM, the bastard of Nightsong,

    —SER CLAYTON SUGGS,

    —SER HUBARD RAMBTON,

    —SER ROBAR, a Witcher, called Serpent’s Bane,

    —SER ANDREW ESTERMONT,

    —SER PATREK, of King’s Mountain,

 

—his court and retainers:

—{MAESTER CRESSEN}, healer and tutor, an old man,

—MAESTER PYLOS, his young successor,

—SEPTON BARRE,

—SER AXELL FLORENT, castellan of Dragonstone, and uncle to Queen Selyse,

—PATCHFACE, a lackwit fool,

—SER DAVOS SEAWORTH, called THE ONION KNIGHT and sometimes SHORTHAND, once a smuggler, captain of Black Betha,

    —his wife MARYA, a carpenter's daughter,

      —their seven sons:

      —DALE, captain of the Wraith,

      —ALLARD, captain of the Lady Marya,

      —MATTHOS, second of Black Betha,

      —MARIC, oarmaster of Fury,

      —DEVAN, squire to King Stannis,

      —STANNIS, a boy of nine years,

      —STEFFON, a boy of six years,

 

—BRYEN FARRING, squire to King Stannis,

 

—his lords bannermen and sworn swords,

—ARDRIAN CELTIGAR, Lord of Claw Isle, an old man,

—MONFORD VELARYON, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark,

    —his dragon, KELPIE,

—DURAM BAR EMMON, Lord of Sharp Point, a boy of fourteen years,

—GUNCER SUNGLASS, Lord of Sweetport Sound,

—ARSTAN SELMY, Lord of Harvest Hall,

—CASPER WYLDE, Lord of Rain House,

—SER MASON TRANT, Lord of Gallowsgrey,

—PAYTON PENROSE, Lord of Parchments,

—SEBASTION ERROL, Lord of Haystack Hall,

—ELDON ESTERMONT, Lord of Greenstone,

—SELWYN TARTH, Lord of Evenfall,

—GULIAN SWANN, Lord of Stonehelm,

—GYLES DONDARRION, Lord of Blackhaven,

—BRYCE CARON, Lord of Nightsong,

—SALLADHOR SAAN, of the Free City of Lys, styled Prince of the Narrow Sea,

—MOROSH THE MYRMAN, a sellsail admiral.

 

—the people of King's Landing:

—the City Watch, called GOLD CLOAKS:

—SER ALYN ESTERMONT, Lord Commander,

—HALLYNE THE PYROMANCER, a Wisdom of the Guild of Alchemists,

—TOBHO MOTT, a master armorer,

—SALLOREON, a master armorer,

—IRONBELLY, a blacksmith,

—LOTHAR BRUNE, a freerider,

—SYMON SILVER TONGUE, a singer,

 

King Stannis has taken for his banner the fiery heart of the Lord of Light; a red heart surrounded by orange flames upon a bright yellow field. Within the heart is pictured the crowned stag of House Baratheon, in black.

 

The principal houses sworn to King Stannis are Celtigar, Velaryon, Seaworth, Bar Emmon, Sunglass, Selmy, Wylde, Trant, Penrose, Errol, Estermont, Tarth, Swann, Dondarrion, Caron, Darklyn, Stokeworth, Staunton, Rosby, Massey, Buckwell, and Hayford.

 

 

Regent to the King Under the Mountain

 

TYWIN LANNISTER, the First of His Name, grandfather to Tommen, Regent for his grandson,

KING TOMMEN I BARATHEON, a boy of ten, the boy king,

  —his dragon, GOLDWING,

  —his kittens, SER POUNCE, LADY WHISKERS, BOOTS,

 

  —his mother, QUEEN CERSEI, Queen Regent and Protector of the Realm, missing,

  —her dragon, PRIDEFYRE,

 

  —her oldest son, {KING JOFFREY I BARATHEON}, poisoned at his wedding feast, a boy of sixteen,

  —his dragon, VENOM,

 

  —his sister, PRINCESS MYRCELLA, a woman of nineteen, missing,

 

  —his uncles, on his father's side:

    —STANNIS BARATHEON, Lord of Dragonstone, styling himself King Stannis the First,

    —{RENLY BARATHEON}, former Lord of Storm's End, styled himself King Renly the First, killed by his brother on the eve of battle,

 

  —his uncles, on his mother's side:

    —SER JAIME LANNISTER, the KINGSLAYER, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,

    —TYRION LANNISTER, called the IMP, a dwarf, accused of Regicide and Kinslaying, 

    —Tyrion's squire, PODRICK PAYNE,

    —Tyrion's concubine, SHAE, a camp follower, eighteen,

 

—his small council:

  —LORD TYWIN LANNISTER, his grandfather, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Hand of the King, Tommen’s Regent,

  —SER JAIME LANNISTER, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,

  —SER KEVAN LANNISTER, master of laws,

  —GRAND MAESTER PYCELLE,

  —LORD HARYS SWYFT, master of coin,

  —LORD JANOS SLYNT, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, severely burned in defence of King Joffrey when Eddard Stark tried to take the realm for himself,

  —LORD MACE TYRELL, LORD MATHIS ROWAN, LORD PAXTER REDWYNE, counsellors,

 

—his Kingsguard:

  —SER JAIME LANNISTER, called KINGSLAYER, Lord Commander, recovering at Casterly Rock,

  —{SANDOR CLEGANE}, called the HOUND, killed by Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell,

  —SER OSMUND KETTLEBLACK,

  —SER OSFRYD KETTLEBLACK,

  —SER OSNEY KETTLEBLACK,

  —SER MARKVART LEFFORD, a knighted Witcher,

  —SER HELMAN GAUNT,

 

—his court and retainers:

  —SER ILYN PAYNE, the King's justice, a headsman,

  —VYLARR, captain of the Lannister household guards at King's Landing (the "red cloaks"),

  —SER LANCEL LANNISTER, formerly squire to King Robert, recently knighted,

  —TYREK LANNISTER, formerly squire to King Robert,

  —SER ARON SANTAGAR, master-at-arms,

  —SER BALON SWANN, second son to Lord Gulian Swann of Stonehelm,

  —LADY ERMESANDE HAYFORD, a babe at the breast,

  —JALABHAR XHO, an exiled prince from the Summer Isles,

  —MOON BOY, a jester and fool,

  —SER OWYN LANNISTER, Master of Lannisport, held the Lannisport main keep against the Starks for a week before peace was declared,

  —SER LAMBERT TURNBERRY, SER DERMOT OF THE RAINWOOD, SER TALLAD called THE TALL, SER BAYARD NORCROSS, SER BONIFER HASTY called BONIFER THE GOOD, SER HUGO VANCE, knights sworn to King Tommen,

  —SER LYLE CRAKEHALL, called STRONGBOAR, SER ALYN STACKSPEAR, SER JON BETTLEY called BEARDLESS JON, SER STEFFON SWYFT, SER HUMFREY SWYFT, knights sworn to Casterly Rock,

  —JOSMYN PECKLEDON, a squire and hero of the Blackwater,

 

 

King Tommen's banner shows the crowned stag of Baratheon, black on gold, and the lion of Lannister, gold on crimson.

 

Principal houses sworn to King Tommen are Payne, Swyft, Marbrand, Lydden, Banefort, Lefford, Crakehall, Serret, Broom, Clegane, Prester, Westerling, Vyrwel, Florent, Oakheart, Hightower, Crane, Merryweather, Tarly, Redwyne, Rowan, Fossoway, and Mullendore.

 

 

The Prince of the Dunes and Red Mountains

 

Dorne was the last of the Seven Kingdoms to swear fealty to the Iron Throne. Blood, custom geography, and history all helped set the Dornishmen apart from the other kingdoms. The Martell banner is a red sun pierced by a golden spear. Their words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

 

DORAN NYMEROS MARTELL, Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne, has led Dorne to secede from the Iron Throne,

 

    —his wife, MELLARIO, of the Free City of Norvos,

    —their children:

        —PRINCESS ARIANNE, heir to Sunspear,

        —PRINCE QUENTYN, a new-made knight, fostered at Yornwood,

        —PRINCE TRYSTANE, the middle one,

        —PRINCESS LYANNA, their second daughter,

        —PRINCES EDDARD, their youngest child,

 

    —his siblings:

        —PRINCESS ELIA, living happily in Winterfell with her lovers NED, CATELYN and ASHARA,

            —her eldest daughter, RHAENYS, married to Robb Stark,

            —her first son, {AEGON}, murdered during the Sack of King’s Landing,

            —her daughter MORIGGAN,

            —her son BALIN,

            —her son LEWYN,

 

        —PRINCE OBERYN, called THE RED VIPER,

            —his paramour, ELLARIA SAND, natural daughter of Lord Harmen Uller,

          —his bastard daughters, THE SAND SNAKES:

            —OBARA, his daughter by an Oldtown whore,

            —NYMERIA, called LADY NYM, his daughter by a noblewoman from Old Volantis,

            —TYENE, his daughter by a Septa,

            —SARELLA, his daughter by a trader captain from the Summer Isles,

            —ELIA, his first daughter by Ellaria Sand, eighteen years of age,

            —OBELLA, his second daughter by Ellaria Sand,

            —DOREA, his third daughter by Ellaria Sand,

            —LOREZA, his forth daughter by Ellaria Sand,

 

    —Prince Doran’s court at the Water Gardens:

        —AREO HOTAH, of Norvos, captain of the guards,

        —MAESTER CALEOTTE, counsellor, healer, and tutor,

    —at Sunspear:

        —MAESTER MYLES, counsellor, healer, and tutor,

        —RICASSO, seneschal, old, blind,

        —SER MANDFREY MARTELL, castellan at Sunspear,

        —LADY ALYSE LADYBRIGHT, lord treasurer,

 

    —his bannermen, the Lords of Dorne:

        —ANDERS YRONWOOD, Lord of the Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, the Bloodroyal,

        —HARMEN ULLER, Lord of Hellholt,

        —DELONNE ALLYRION, Lady of Godsgrace,

        —DAGOS, MANWOODY, Lord of Kingsgrave,

        —LARRA BLACKMONT, Lady of Blackmont,

        —NYMELLA TOLAND, Lady of Ghost Hill,

        —BELEGAR SANDSTONE, Thane of the Red Peaks,

        —QUENTYN QORGYLE, Lord of Sandstone,

        —SER DEZIEL DALT, the Knight of Lemonwood,

        —FRANKLEYN FOWLER, Lord of Skyreach, called THE OLD HAWK, the Warden of the Prince’s Pass,

        —SER SYMON SANTAGAR, the Knight of Spottswood,

        —EDIRC DAYNE, Lord of Starfall, a squire,

        —TREBOR JORDAYNE, Lord of the Tor,

        —TREMOND GARGALEN, Lord of Salt Shore,

        —DAERON VAITH, Lord of the Red Dunes,

 

Principal houses sworn to the Prince include Jordayne, Santagar, Allyrion, Toland, Yronwood, Wyl, Fowler, and Dayne.

 

 

HOUSE LANNISTER

 

Fair-haried, tall, handsome, the Lannisters are the blood of Andal adventurers who carved out a mighty kingdom in the western hills and valleys. Through the female line they boast of descent from Lann the Clever, the legendary trickster of the Age of Heroes. The gold of Casterly Rock and the Golden Tooth has made them the wealthiest of the Great Houses. Their sigil is a golden lion upon a crimson field. The Lannister words are Hear Me Roar!

 

TYWIN LANNISTER, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, Hand to King Joffrey,

 

    —his wife, {LADY JOANNA}, a cousin, died in childbed,

    —their children:

        —QUENN CERSEI, wife of King Robert I Baratheon, a twin to Jaime

        —SER JAIME, called KINGSLAYER, member of the Kingsguard, a twin to Cersei,

        —TYRION, called THE IMP, a dwarf, presumptive heir to Cesterly Rock

 

    —his siblings:

      —SER KEVAN, his eldest brother,

        —his wife, DORNA, of House Swyft,

          —their eldest son, LANCEL, newly knighted,

          —their twin sons, WILLEM and MARTYN,

          —their infant daughter, JANEL,

 

    —GENNA, his sister, wed to Lord Mance Ryder,

      —their eldest son, Tygett Ryder, heir to the Blaze keep,

      —their second son, Ned Ryder,

      —Ygritte Ryder, called Short-Arse, member of the Ice Guard, a twin to Val, married to Jon Stark,

      —Val Ryder, youngest daughter, a twin to Ygritte, married to Jon Stark,

 

    —SER TYGETT, his second brother, Witcher,

 

    —{GERION}, his youngest brother, lost at sea,

      —his basterd daughter, JOY, a girl of eighteen,

 

     —their cousin, SER STAFFORD LANNISTER, brother to the late Lady Joanna,

       —his daughters, CERENNA and MYRIELLE,

       —his son, SER DAVEN LANNISTER,

 

—his counselor, MAESTER CREYLEN,

—ALEENA, a disgraced Child of the Forest the Tywin employs to make Uruks,

 

—his chief knights and lords bannermen:

    —SER ALYN PAYNE, Lord commander of the Golden Legion,

    —LEO LEFFORD, Lord of the Golden Tooth,

    —DAMON MARBRAND, Lord of Ashemark,

        —SER ADDAM MARBRAND, heir to Ashemark,

    —SER HARYS SWYFT, Lord of Cornfield,

    —BARUNDIN GOLDFINGER, Thane of the Western Dwarves,

    —TOM PAYNE, Master of Miner’s Pass,

    —ANDROS BRAX, Lord of Hornvale,

    —SER FORLEY PRESTER, cousin to the Lord of Feastfires

    —SER OWYN LANNISTER, of the Lannisport Lannisters,

    —VARGO HOAT, of the Free City of Qohor, a sellsword,

 

Principal houses sworn to Casterly Rock are Payne, Swyft, Marbrand, Lydden, Banefort, Lefford, Crakehall, Serret, Broom, Clegane, Prester and Westerling.

 

 

HOUSE TYRELL

 

The Tyrells rose to power as stewards to the Kings of the Reach, whose domain included the fertile plains of the southwest from the Dornish marches and the Blackwater Rush to the shores of the Sunset Sea. through the female line, they claim descent from Garth Greenhand, gardener king of the First Men, last of the old line, perished on the Field of Fire, slain by Baelon Abraxys, his steward Harlan Tyrell surrendered Highgarden to him, pledging fealty to Aegon Targaryen. Aegon rewarded the Tyrells and Abraxys by combining their houses, with a marriage-pact. Baelon would marry Harlan’s daughter, take the Tyrell name, words, Highgarden and dominion over the Reach. The Tyrell sigil is a golden rose on a grass-green field. Their words are Growing Strong.

 

MACE TYRELL, called THE ACE, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach,

—his dragon, GREENHAND,

 

    —his wife, LADY ALERIE, of House Hightower of Oldtown,

    —their children:

        —WILLAS, their eldest son, heir to Highgarden,

        —his dragon, GREENTHORN,

        —SER GARLAN, called THE GALLANT, their second son,

        —his dragon, RĒKO,

        —SER LORAS, the Knight of the Flowers, their third, son,

        —his dragon, OAKFALL,

        —SER EDDARD, their youngest son

        —his dragon, FROZEN FLOWER,

        —MARGAERY, their only daughter, a maid of eighteen, married to King Joffrey Baratheon but unconsummated, missing,

    —his sisters:

        —MINA, wed to Lord Paxter Redwyne,

 

        —JANNA, wed to Ser Jon Fossoway,

 

    —his widowed mother, LADY OLENNA of House Redwyne, called THE QUEEN OF THORNS,

 

    —his uncles:

 

    —GARTH, called THE GROSS, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden,

    —his dragon, VYGGO,

    —Garth's bastard sons, GARSE and GARRETT FLOWERS,

 

    —SER MORYN, Lord Commander of the City Watch of Oldtown,

 

    —MAESTER GORMON, a scholar of the Citadel,

 

    —his household:

        —MAESTER LOMYS, counsellor, healer, and tutor,

        —IGON VYRWEL, captain of the guard,

        —SER VORTIMER CRANE, master-at-arms,

 

    —his knights and lords bannermen:

        —PAXTER REDWYNE, Lord of the Arbor, husband of Mina Tyrell,

        —RANDYLL TARLY, Lord of Horn Hill,

        —ARWYN OAKHEART, Lady of the Old Oak,

        —ANNA HENRIETTA, Lady of Beauclair,

        —MATHIS ROWAN, Lord of Goldengrove,

        —LEYTON HIGHTOWER, Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port,

        —SER MORDRED MULLENDORE, Lord of Uplands,

        —SER JON FOSSOWAY, husband of Janna Tyrell,

        —ORTON MERRYWEATHER, Lord of Longtable,

            —LADY TAENA, his wife, a beautiful woman from Myr,

                —RUSSELL, their son, a boy of six,

 

Principal houses sworn to Highgarden are Vyrwel, Florent, Oakheart, Hightower, Crane, Merryweather, Tarly, Redwyne, Rowan, Fossoway, and Mullendore.

 

 

HOUSE ROYCE

 

House Royce of Runestone is an old and powerful noble house of the Vale, formerly sworn to House Arryn. However the extinction of that house led to a council of the kingdom’s lords where they voted to make Yohn Royce lord of the Vale. Their seat is the castle Runestone, located on the coast of the narrow sea north of Gulltown. There is also a junior branch occupying the non-hereditary seat of the Gates of the Moon, located on the path that leads to the Eyrie. The Royces of Runestone blazon their arms with black iron studs on bronze, bordered with runes, and their words are " We Remember ".

 

—YOHN ROYCE, called BRONZE YOHN, Lord of Runestone, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East,

 

—his wife, {MARISSA MANDERLY}, older sister to Lord Wyman, died of a wasting illness,

—their children:

  —Ser Andar Royce, his eldest son and heir,

  —Ser ROBAR ROYCE, known as ROBAR THE RED,

  —Ser WAYMAR ROYCE, a knight in the service of Wyman Manderly,

  —YSILLA ROYCE, betrothed to Ser Mychel Redfort,

  —BETHANY ROYCE, his youngest daughter,

 

—his household:

        —MAESTER HELLIWEG, tutor, healer and counsellor,

        —DRUID ALFORRD, tutor, healer and counsellor,

        —SEPTON LUCOS, a man of the faith,

        —SEPTON PYRLIG, a warrior-priest in service to lord Royce,

        —SER SAMWELL STONE, called STRONG SAM STONE, master-at-arms of Runestone.

 

—his knights and lords bannermen:

    —LORD NESTOR ROYCE, High Steward of the Vale,

        —SER ALBAR ROYCE, his son,

        —his daughter, MYRANDA, called RANDA, married to Robb Stark

        —MYA STONE, a bastard girl in his service,

    —LYONEL CORBRAY, Lord of Heart's Home,

        —SER LYN CORBRAY, his brother, who wields the famed blade Lady Forlorn,

        —SER LUCAS CORBRAY, his younger brother,

    —TRISTON SUNDERLAND, Lord of the Three Sisters,

—GODRIC BORRELL, Lord of Sweetsister,

—ROLLAND LONGTHORPE, Lord of Longsister,

—ALESANDOR TORRENT, Lord of Littlesister,

—ANYA WAYNWOOD, Lady of Ironoaks Castle,

    —SER MORTON, her eldest son and heir,

    —WALLACE, her youngest son,

—SER DONNEL, the Knight of the Bloody Gate,

—SER SYMOND TEMPLETON, the Knight of Ninestars,

—JON LYNDERLY, Lord of the Snakewood,

—EDMUND WAXLEY, the Knight of Wickenden,

—GEROLD GRAFTON, the Lord of Gulltown,

—EON HUNTER, Lord of Longbow Hall,

    —SER GILWOOD, Lord Eon's eldest son and heir,

    —SER EUSTACE, Lord Eon's second son,

    —SER HARLAN, Lord Eon's youngest son,

—HORTON REDFORT, Lord of Redfort, thrice wed,

    —SER JASPER, SER CREIGHTON, SER JON, his sons,

    —SER MYCHEL, his youngest son, a new-made knight, betrothed to Ysilla Royce of Runestone,

—BENEDAR BELMORE, Lord of Strongsong,

 

The principal houses sworn to the Lord of the Vale are Egen, Waynwood, Sunderland, Hunter, Lynderly, Grafton, Redfort, Templeton, Corbray, Belmore, Melcolm, and Hersy.

 

 

HOUSE TULLY

 

The Tullys never reigned as kings, though they held rich lands and the great castle at Riverrun for a thousand years. During the Wars of Conquest, the riverlands belonged to Harren the Black, King of the Isles. Harren's grandfather, King Harwyn Hardhand, had taken the Trident from Arrec the Storm King, whose ancestors had conquered all the way to the Neck three hundred years earlier, slaying the last of the old River Kings. A vain and bloody tyrant, Harren the Black was little loved by those he ruled, and many of the river lords deserted him to join Aegon's host. First among them was Edmyn Tully of Riverrun. When Harren and his line perished in the burning of Harrenhal, Aegon rewarded House Tully by raising Lord Edmyn to dominion over the lands of the Trident and requiring the over river lords to swear him fealty. The Tully sigil is a leaping trout, silver, on a field of rippling blue and red. The Tully words are Family, Duty, Honor.

 

—EDMURE TULLY, Lord of Riverrun, Master of Rivers, Warden of the Trident,

 

    —his mother, LADY MINISA, of House Whent,

    

    —his siblings:

        —QUEEN CATELYN, called CAT, the eldest daughter, wed to King Eddard Stark,

 

         —LYSA, the younger daughter, widowed by Lord Jon Arryn,

 

      —their uncle SER BRYNDEN, called THE BLACKFISH,

 

       —his household:

            —MAESTER VYMAN, counselor, healer, and tutor,

            —SER DESMOND GRELL, master-at-arms,

            —SER ROBIN RYGER, captain of the guard,

                    —LONG LEW, ELWOOD, DELP, guardsmen,

            —UTHERYDES WAYN, steward of Riverrun,

 

—his knights and lords bannermen:

        —TYTOS BLACKWOOD, Lord of Raventree Hall,

                —BRYNDEN, his eldest son and heir,

                —LUCAS, his second son,

                —HOSTER, his third son, a bookish boy,

                —EDMUND and ALYN, his younger sons,

                —BETHANY, his daughter, a girl of eight,

                —{ROBERT}, his youngest son, died of loose bowels,

         —JONOS BRACKEN, Lord of the Stone Hedge,

                —BARBARA, JAYNE, CATELYN, BESS, ALYSANNE, his five daughters,

          —JASON MALLISTER, Lord of Seagard,

          —PATREK MALLISTER, his son and heir,

          —OLYVAR FREY, Lord of the Crossing, squire to Prince Robb Stark,

           —SER KARYL VANCE, Lord of Wayfarer's Rest,

           —CLEMENT PIPER, Lord of Pinkmaiden Castle,

               —his son and heir, SER MARQ PIPER,

            —SHELLA WHENT, Lady of Harrenhal,

                —SER WILLIS WODE, a knight in her service,

             —NORBERT VANCE, the blind Lord of Atranta,

             —THEOMAR SMALLWOOD, Lord of Acorn Hall,

             —WILLIAM MOOTON, Lord of Maidenpool,

                 —ELEANOR, his daughter and heir,

              —SER HALMON PAEGE,

              —LORD LYMOND GOODBROOK,

 

Principal houses sworn to Riverrun include Darry, Frey, Mallister, Bracken, Blackwood, Whent, Smallwood, Mooton, Goodbrook, Ryger, Piper, and Vance.

 

 

The Queen Across the Water

 

After the Targaryens lost their crown to Robert Baratheon, they’ve lived in exile in Essos, biding their time…

DAENERYS TARGARYEN, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, called DAENERYS STORMBORN, the UNBURNT, BREAKER OF CHAINS, MOTHER OF DRAGONS,

    —her dragons, DROGON, VISERION, RHAEGAL, BAELYS, LYRMINOR, ZATTAX,

 

—her mother, RHAELLA, of House Targaryen, Dowager Queen,

 

—her brother, {RHAEGAR}, Prince of Dragonstone, slain by ROBERT BARATHEON and NED STARK on the Trident,

    —Rhaegar’s daughter, RHAENYS, married to PRINCE ROBB STARK,

    —Rhaegar’s son, {AEGON}, murdered during the Sack of King’s Landing,

 

—her brother, {VISERYS}, died of a fever shortly after they escaped from Dragonstone,

 

—her twin sisters, SHAENA and SHAELLA, daughters of RHAELLA and a Summer Islander ships captain, born during exile, both nineteen,

 

—her lord husband, {DROGO}, a khal of the Dothraki, died of a wound gone bad,

—her stillborn son by Drogo, {RHAEGO}, slain in the womb by the maegi Mirri Maz Duur,

 

—her protectors:

—SER JORAH MORMONT, formerly Lord of Bear Island, a bear skinchanger,

—SER BARRISTAN SELMY, called BARRISTAN THE BOLD, Lord Commander of the Queensguard,

—STRONG BELWAS, eunuch and former fighting slave,

—her Dothraki bloodriders:

        —RAKHARO, the arakh , a bloodbourne sorcerer, blood of her blood,

—JHOGO, the whip, blood of her blood,

—AGGO, the bow, blood of her blood,

—IRRI, young dothraki woman found to be magically capable, now a skilled hydromancer,

—UCHINA KAHASHI, a blind Yitish master swordsman,

—IGNIS, called IGNIS THE RED, an old man, former guard for Aerion Targaryen,

—JACKS, a son of a slave who snuck into her tent and pledged himself to Daenerys as she bathed, secretly Cregan Dhalark sent to spy on her for Eddard Stark,

—SINAFAY, a Child of the Shadow, or dark-elf, firebending master and instructor to Daenerys,

—MINTHARA, a Child of the Shadow Paladin,

 

—her captains and commanders:

—DAARIO NAHARIS, a flamboyant Tyroshi sellsword, captain of the Stormcrows, a free company,

—BEN PLUMM, called BROWN BEN, a mongrel sellsword, captain of the Second Sons, a free company.

—GREY WORM, a eunuch, commander of the Unsullied, a company of eunuch infantry,

—HERO, an Unsullied captain, second-in-command,

—STALWART SHIELD, an Unsullied spearman,

—GROLEO of Pentos, formerly captain of the great cog Saduleon , now an admiral without a fleet,

—ROMMO, a jaqqa rhan of the Dothraki,

 

—her handmaids and servants:

—JHIQUI, young woman of the Dothraki,

—MISSANDEI, a Naathi scribe and translator,

 

—her uncertain allies, false friends, and known enemies:

—{MIRRI MAZ DUUR}, godswife and maegi, a servant of the Great Shepherd of Lhazar

—XARO XHOAN DAXOS, a merchant prince of Qarth,

—QUAITHE, a masked shadowbinder from Asshai,

—ILLYRIO MOPATIS, a magister of the Free City of Pentos, who brokered her marriage to Khal Drogo,

 

Notes:

Updated the appendix

Notes:

I suppose this has been a long time coming. I’ve always enjoyed Powerful North fics and finally decided to have a bash at one of my own. The next chapter will be posted soon, Ned will be the main pov for the story.

The main “pairing” Will be Ned Stark/Ashara Dayne/Catelyn Stark.