Disclaimer: Imma stop doin' these, can I stop doin' these?

A.N. What's up it's ya boy tha God back on the attack with anotha muthafuckin chapter. It just got real. Now, you may be sayin', "How is he gettin' already a FOURTH chapter done when a month ago it took him two weeks to upload 2,000 words," well, to answer that, somebody's been cuttin' down on his super-happy-alone-fun-time. Now let's get it. Also, Imma steal a line from A Perfect Circle in this chapter. Because why not, and fuck off. It fits the Old Ways too well not to. Also, warnin', mixed martial arts in this chapter. Because I love that shit.

Big mention too, after further consideration, the numbers of Skagos should be much higher, since the Iron Islands are smaller and just as hard to live on, though only slightly warmer. The number of men Skagos can field will be 25,000 and the ships 750. (Ironborn are 20,000 strong according to sources.) And Skagos is much bigger.

WARNING: LEMON

Black Sheep, White Wolf

Chapter 9: Home Is Where the Heart Is

The shining white castle and bright, light sand reflecting the bright, Southern sun would have blinded Jon had it not been for him being used to the snows of the North. The light was no issue, but the heat of Sunspear as the Seawolf, Warwood, and Seaflame pulled in to dock, was a huge issue, though Jon refused to admit it aloud. Still, they were still over the water and it was the hottest Jon had ever been, leaving him to wonder just how hot it would be once deep in the city. Luckily for the Dornish, the three raider longships had stopped in Braavos to trade off all goods, because the heat had every Skagosi's temper hanging on by a thread, and the last thing any of them needed was for some angry Northman to murder some stubborn trader. Plus, Jon had got to see the great Titan of Braavos, which was something that he was sure nothing in Dorne could top.

When the Seawolf hit the dock, followed closely by it's two sister ships, Jon quickly vaulted on to the dock, eager to get this over with. He turned towards his and the others crews.

"Kira, Arik, Lachtín, Skulgarth, Odaki, grab your gear and you're with me. The rest of you stay with the ship. Ultán, grab five of yours and come with me, everyone else, stay for now," Several of the men looked unhappy with the prospect of being stuck in such a miserably hot place without even the prospect of women or drink, but they did as their Captain asked, nonetheless.

Jon began down the winding streets of Sunspear toward the castle, Longclaw on back, wolf by side, and weirwood spear in hands, with nine of his best warriors trailing closely behind him, when a large cluster of Dornish men in surcoats with spears surrounded him and his comrades, led by a large, broad-shouldered and white-haired man with a large longaxe in hand. Of course, Jon's party naturally went for their weapons, what they knew best. However, before they could prepare for combat, Jon held up his hand in a placating manner towards his own men, causing first confusion, then displeasure.

"I am Jon Stark, I have come to see your Prince Doran," Jon stated directly to the large man, who stared at him. After a moment, the man nodded and turned around. Half the guards feel in behind him, the other half fell in behind the Skagosi.

Upon arrival at the doors to enter the grand hall that would surely sit the royals of Dorne, Jon was tempted to admire the structure of the palace, but refrained from doing so, knowing that it meant becoming unfocused and possibly allowing his men to kill Dornishmen they needed. When the doors opened, Jon and his entered, inwardly sighing in relief at the coolness of the hall.

On the dais, in the throne, sat an aging, tired looking, gouty man, obviously analytical, but kind enough seeming. Next to him was a younger, better looking man, with a dagger at his hip, smirking. However, his eyes gave away a hint of slyness, an unexpected sneakiness. Jon deemed these men Doran and Oberyn, respectively. Next to Oberyn was a beautiful woman of the same age, holding on to his arm and sitting, whereas Oberyn stood. Seeing as how the Red Viper had no wife, Jon knew this must be his concubine. Next to her were three girls, two good looking and one average, one with daggers, another with a whip, and another with a spear. All three looked dangerous, and Jon dubbed them the infamous Sand Snakes. On the other side of Doran, however, was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen. She was a few years Jon's senior, that much was obvious, but she was not old. Her black curls fell in ringlets, and her dark, olive skin was unblemished, her jaw was smoothly rounded and her nose was a cute sort of round, and her short but full figure was flawless, like some dark, Dornish version of a princess from a story. She looked at Jon with an expectation, and something else he couldn't quite place, while Jon was sure his own eyes gave away everything, no matter how stoic he managed to keep his facial expression. This must surely be Doran's daughter, Arianne.

"Prince Doran," Jon greeted, bowing his head in respect, "Other members of the Martell family, I know you not, just as you do not know me, but I would ask you hear my proposition out to the fullest extent you can manage." Most seemed amused at his statement.

"Well, while I appreciate the honesty and bravado required to not beat around the bush, you are wrong. You know us better than we know you. I know many things, such as tales of Skagosi raids all along the Eastern coast, the slaughter at Sharp Point, for example. However, I have no idea who you are, aside from some Skagosi raider, so, who are you?" Prince Doran leaned forward, looking at Jon with an intelligent curiosity, the eagerness rivaling that of a child, but the knowledge so obviously much deeper. Instead of Jon answering for himself, which he was more than prepared to do, Skulgarth stepped forward.

"This is Jon Stark, King of Skagos, Lord of Kingshouse, First of his Line, the Gods Chosen Defender of Their Bloody Isles, and Harbinger of War and the Old Ways," Skulgarth declared, chest out and chin up, staring defiantly at this Southern Lord who would talk so dismissively to the King chosen by the Gods. Areo stepped forward, longaxe in hand, facing the man who had just stepped towards his charges. Skulgarth heard his step and turned, unslinging his battleaxe from his back, catching it and staring at Areo with his longaxe. Immediately, all of the Skagosi drew their weapons, prepared to strike down this man who would dare to assault a Sagart in a peaceful meeting.

"Halt, all of you, no harm was meant, I'm sure. Skulgarth, however old he may be, is still dangerous, and the man was simply preparing to defend his lord. No issue here."

"Areo, join us on the dais, if you would, and dismiss the guards. These guests are no threat to us as of now," Doran demanded, drawing Areo's attention and prompting him to follow the orders. The guards retreated, and now it was Oberyn who spoke.

"You are far away from home, Stark. Furthermore, it is confusing how a Stark, since I'm assuming you are this second son of Eddard Stark who was gone missing, managed to gain the Kingship of Skagos. Even more interesting than that is how a Stark seems to have lost the sense of honor his father had, and now puts entire holds to the sword," Oberyn spoke, his tone wondering and mischievous, with a hint of danger to it. Jon refrained himself from raising the spear in his hands and answered.

"Well, that's a rather long story, and we've been hot and thirsty and hungry for the better part of a day. Would you happen to have any water, perhaps bread?" Doran chuckled at Jon's not-so-subtle ask for Guests' Right.

"Yes, we have what you ask for. In fact, take part in our hospitality. Sleep in our rooms, and join in a feast this very night. Bring the men at your ships with you, let them join in the merriment."

-Linebreak-

"When a man moves to the next life no man wants to shiver,

So when I'm at rest don't lay me at the bottom of a river,

Oh I've waged war and I'll wager you son,

Come winter you'll wish you've burnt me as our ancestors have done,"

The voices of every Skagosi man in the hall rang out, reverberating in everyone's ears. When the echo finally stopped, all the Skagosi men broke out cheering, yelling and laughing. The royal Dornish family watched on, some with interest, some with annoyance. The Sand Snakes, who Jon had met earlier seemed split down the middle. Nym was interested, Tyene was hard to read, and Obara was annoyed at the boisterous Northmen for being unable to take part in a feast without causing such great commotion that servants fled in fear. Skulgarth and the Smalljon sat at the table with Jon, the Martells, and the Sands. Loch and Ultán stood from their spots in the crowd, causing a silence to envelope the crowd.

"My king," Loch stated, "Your men wish for you to start off the festivities proper." Jon couldn't help but chuckle, expecting no less from his men than to continue on with their form of partying, even in a foreign home. The men started to chant.

"Stark, Stark, Stark, Stark, Stark..."

"Alright you bloody bastards, I'm on my way," The warriors cheered and Jon couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. He made his way down to the middle of the room, in between all the tables, under the watchful eyes of the Dornish. The other Skagosi made a circle around Jon, and he quickly removed his shirt and sheath, having discarded his armor earlier on for comfort. Darragh stepped forward, shirtless as well, the slightly bigger man grinning at Jon. Skulgarth called out the rules.

"All right, no eye gouging, no groin shots, no biting, all else is fair game, it's over when both men are done or one man is unconscious. Begin!"

Jon stepped forward at the same time as Darragh, both throwing out a test jab, Darragh's connecting solidly with Jon's chin. Jon smiled and threw a kick, connecting with Darragh's thigh, right above his knee. The brothers-in-arms danced around each other for a few moments, each throwing different shots, before Darragh shot forward with a leaping hook, expecting to catch Jon off guard. The young king, however, expected it and ducked under it, simultaneously sending a kick out to catch Darragh's legs, causing him to lose balance. By the time he had turned around, Jon was spinning, sending a flying back kick straight into his abdomen. As he bent over, Jon jumped up, pushing his knee into his friend's face. When Darragh shot upward, Jon threw a hook, connecting with Darragh and sending him backward. The Stark's mistake, however, was that next, he threw a one feint head kick, pretending to high kick with the left, only to jump and high roundhouse with the right. The slightly older man saw it coming, catching the leg and pushing Jon down, landing on top of him in full guard.

His arms were on Jon's sternum, until Jon swept them out and stuck his left leg sideways on the back of his friends neck, with his right foot pushing into Darragh's left hip. Jon hugged his knee with both arms, digging his right elbow into Darragh's collar bone (A.N. Shoutout to my man Eddie "Edgy Brah" Bravo, who created this, called mission control, or, the rubber guard). When Darragh attempted to punch him with his left arm, the right being unable to get in to reach him, the young captain stuck his left foot farther out and brought his right leg from pushing the hip to locking up with the left, trapping the head, arm, and shoulder of Darragh together. Jon pulled the arm down and straight, squeezing with everything he had, attempting to choke Darragh until he tapped or fell unconscious. Darragh, ever the warrior, picked Jon up, slamming him back down on his back. Jon managed to hang on, however, and fought to squeeze even harder. Finally, Darragh's vision went black and his body limp, and all men rushed over, helping to wake him up.

When Darragh's eyes finally opened after a moment, taking in his surroundings, his king grinned and the group of men cheered, hoisting both up. They handed both men some Skagosi Ale, recently dubbed Wildfire-Water. Jon and Darragh clasped hands and hugged, both laughing, before Darragh raised Jon's hand. Jon stepped out of the circle, heading back up to the dais as two more men stepped in to the circle.

When Jon reached his seat, he was met with the questioning stares of several Dornishmen, as well as the interested look Obara had gained from the combat. Oberyn spoke out.

"Well, I must say, you Skagosi know how to celebrate. You party like Dothraki, only, without the killing."

"No, usually there's that too, but we're on the warpath, and must leave that behind us," Jon answered, raising his bottle to his lips and taking a deep drink. Oberyn snorted and Jon raised an eyebrow at him.

"Though, it seems you don't drink half as well as you fight. Have some Dornish wine, it's certainly tougher than whatever water you have in there," Oberyn stated, not expecting the snorts that came from all three warriors on the dais. Jon walked over, presenting the bottle to Oberyn. Oberyn looked confused, before raising it to his lips, attempting to take down an entire gulp, breaking out in a fiery cough halfway through his attempt. "What in the seven Hells is this?"

"That would be Skagosi Ale, Prince Oberyn. Nicknamed Wildfire-Water. A bit tough at first," Jon laughed at the dubious look on the Prince's face. Oberyn turned, giving the drink to his daughters. Obara took a drink, with the same result as her father, followed closely by her two eldest sisters. All the Northmen watching laughed.

"Aye, now you can try drinking like a Skagosi," Smalljon stated out loud, drawing more laughs from the men when two of the girls glared at him, Nym deciding rather to smirk at him, seeming to have taken a liking to the large and rugged Northerner. Jon turned and looked at the rest of the family, primarily Arianne. She was looking at him again with that glint in her eye, that look that he couldn't place. Before he could think more on it, she looked away. Jon caught another bottle thrown his way, uncorking it and drinking down several mouthfuls immediately. Before he could celebrate further, Prince Doran captured his attention.

"King Stark, I would like if you and your two friends joined my brother and I for a drink in private," Jon nodded, understanding completely.

"Let me get my stuff first," Doran nodded, and Jon jumped down to the lower table he had left his sword and shirt on. Grabbing the black tunic in hand and turning with the sheathed blade in the other, Jon caught sight of Arianne's gaze, her staring at his shirtless abdomen, before she turned back to talk to Tyene, blushing slightly, though it was hard for Jon to tell with her darker complexion. Jon felt the sudden urge to blush, but understood that would earn him teasing from his men he didn't necessarily want, so he maintained his calm. He quickly put his shirt on, slinging Longclaw across his back he followed his two friends, Areo Hotah, and the two princes.

When they entered Doran's study, Jon attempted to pull the door closed behind him, only to be stopped by a soft hand on his bicep. He turned, and Arianne smiled at him, moving past him, so tantalizingly close, brushing against him as she passed, tempting him. He kept his hands to himself however, and when they both entered, Doran gave his daughter a look, though she gave him one right back.

"So, King Stark," Doran began.

"Just, Jon, if you please, Prince Doran, no need for such formalities amongst friends."

"Alright, then I am simply Doran, and my brother Oberyn, to you. I would wish to know this proposition you have brought to me." Doran's eyes were better guarded than Oberyn's, but the look in them gave Jon no doubt he was every bit as dangerous as his younger brother.

"Well, Doran, I would propose a pact, of sorts, towards an end of unification," Jon vaguely declared. When Doran raised his eyebrow, Jon continued, "The Seven Kingdoms had a good run, but we are on the brink of war, we all feel it. The Targaryens kept Westeros from bursting at the seams for a long while, but the Baratheon king cannot. There are too many kingdoms in Westeros for there to be only one king. It was seven kingdoms for a reason. There are supposed to be eight kings, excluding the King of Skagos. I would propose that when this war comes, and it shall, I promise you, we stick together. Dorne and Skagos have always been the two most defiant places in Westeros, save for the Iron Islands, but those squids are part of the problem. Squid raids and fear of the Old Ways keep the kingdoms unified. I shall have a pact with the North, assuredly. When the time comes, Dorne shall have a king just as certainly as the North or Skagos. We can help each other with this. That, and, it never hurts to have some good men to help you get your justice."

Jon knew that even if Doran did not agree to the first part, just as any good Southern ruler, he would definitely agree because of the last point. Justice was something that the Dornish were dying to have, metaphorically. The look in Oberyn's eyes said all he needed to know, but Jon needed to finish strong with Doran.

"Of course, I recognize that you do not want to push your people into war and devastation. I understand, your culture is not the same as my own. But, Northern and Dornish culture are more alike than you'd think. Women are more free in the North, and bastards are only treated badly by those who have closer ideology to the Southern kingdoms. I expect nothing from you now, only that when war comes to our doors, and it will, you and I both know that, we ally ourselves with like-minded men. We support you, you support us. We help each other throughout the wars to come, and increase trade in times of peace. In return for your obliging me, I should be more than happy to help you gather lion and dog heads."

"While this is all so tempting, I don't understand one thing. Your men and you, you put entire castles to the sword, but you want to help me fight a monster?"

"Well, Doran, there's a difference. We do not rape women, nor do we terrorize and butcher children. In Skagosi culture, any man who wields his blade against a child too small to even lift one, is no man at all. And any man who forces himself on a woman is no man, as a real man would find a woman who is more than willing to join him. We kill, yes, we kill women, yes, but we do not put ENTIRE castles to the torch, and we do not torment those who do not deserve it. Clegane deserves to burn for what he did sixteen years ago, and we would like to see that dream become a reality." Doran mulled over the thought for a moment before reaching his hand out to Jon. The king shook his hand, then Oberyn's.

"Very well then, King Stark, may let us talk of plans, shall we?" Doran smiled, a small, intelligent thing.

"Of course, King Martell," Jon smirked back.

-Linebreak-

The Smalljon and Skulgarth were leaving, followed closely by Arianne and Areo. Jon was beginning to leave, when Doran grabbed his arm, prompting him to stay with the Princes of Dorne.

"Aye, Doran?" Jon questioned, unsure as to what more was needed to be said.

"I merely wished to say, it would be good of you to talk visit your mother on your way West," Doran told him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"My mother is in Winterfell," Jon retorted, unsure as to where this was going, confused.

"No, surely you must have heard of the circumstances of your birth," when Jon nodded tersely Doran continued, "Your birth mother is Ashara Dayne, sister of Ser Arthur Dayne."

"She is a lost woman, with a dead brother, and a missing lover and son," Oberyn continued, "She wanders the halls and Godswood in Starfall, I have seen it with my own eyes. She stares at everything, but she sees nothing. She is cared for by the servants, but she spends all day, not talking, walking around with her brother's sword in her arms, as if she's looking for him. Some days, however, it's like she's looking for you. I heard her, one day. She was walking down the hall, and she stopped at the room they kept you in before your father took you. She called out your name, and she went in to the room. She called your name, and when you didn't answer, she wept, she wept like no woman has ever wept before, save for those who know the pain of their child dying. Seeing your mother would do the both of you good." By the end of Oberyn's story, Jon was slightly choked up.

"Besides, I would also like to give you a proposal of my own. If we are to be allies, it never hurts to seal the pact a bit more." Jon looked confused, so Doran continued, much more straightforward. "I have seen the way my daughter and you look at each other, Jon Stark. I would be pleased if you were to become my good-son. Shh, no need to answer now, go, think on it. When you come back this way, you shall have an answer." Jon, flustered, nodded and left.

Upon his arrival to the corridor, Arianne was by his side, in step with him. When he looked at her from the corner of his eye, she merely grinned at him, showing off her beautiful, white smile.

"What did you speak with my father of, King Stark?" She smiled half innocently, half seductively. Jon had no doubt that she had heard at least some of the conversation, and it angered him. He cared not if she heard the marriage proposal, but if she had heard the part about Starfall, his wrath would be absolutely terrifying to any person without ice in their veins.

"Nothing, and it is Jon to you, Princess," Jon tried to be curt and polite, but the wolf blood was acting up, and he was riled.

"I didn't hear anything save for something my father said to you at the end. Something about you making a decision when you come back. This decision would not have been a marriage proposal by any chance, would it?" Jon wasn't sure if she had heard it, or could just guess as to what it was.

"Perhaps it was, Princess," Jon turned to look at her, realizing for the first time just how short she was. Him, at 6'1", her at 5'2", it was a good height difference. Her round yet sharp features amazed him, and he would be a great liar to claim he was offended by the thought of her as his wife.

"Well then, what exactly do you think, my king?" She was teasing him now that they had stopped in front of his door, fluttering her eyelashes and looking up at him through them, awfully close considering the circumstances.

"I think that a woman has her own say in the matter at hand," Was Jon's answer. He had no other answer. His blood was running, and he was one sentence or signal away from dragging her in his room and having his way with her.

"I think, that my weakness is dark and dangerous, handsome men. I would very much like to test out my possible future husband," And that was the sentence that broke Jon's resolve, though her sultry smile certainly didn't help keep it together. The young man brought his mouth down on hers, and when her hands when in to hi hair, he picked her up, his hands on her ass and her legs around his midsection. He kicked the door open, closing it with his shoulder when they were inside. He tossed her on the bed, her landing softly on the silk and cotton covered feather-bed. She smiled at him, waving him forward with a finger, and he smiled, moving forward in response.

LEMON WARNING DON'T READ IF YA DON'T LIKE 'EM

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his groin closer to hers as his lips attacked hers, his tongue dominating the fight for control, exploring her mouth. Eventually, one of her feet found it's way in between them, pushing him off of her. Jon unslung Longclaw from his back and tore off his shirt and began to unfasten his trousers, watching and drinking in the sight of the woman before him, seductively taking off her dressing, bending and arching as she did so.

The moonlight coming in from the open terrace, along with the cool breeze, granted the perfect environment for Jon as he watched her lifting up her dress. She picked it up, rather tight in some areas, with her fingers gripping the bottom. She turned, her back to Jon, pulling the dress upward, showcasing her smooth legs. When it got to her supple ass, she was forced to tug it up, and over the round, juicy rear she exposed to Jon. If his member wasn't hard before, it was now. She turned back, just as the dress reached her breasts. She pulled her arms above her head, pulling the dress with them, showing off her big, beautiful, luscious breasts, larger than any Jon had seen, likewise for her rear. They were topped by large, brown nipples. When the dress was off, she threw it to the side, and her hands ran through her hair, as black as his, when they came back down. He stepped forward, kissing her, still aggressive and strong, but slower than before.

She turned until Jon was against the bed, and she pushed him back. She grabbed his erect cock, appraising the tool, overjoyed with the rather large, but not insanely large, thick, nine and a half inch dick in front of her face. She squatted down, eye level with it now. Sticking her tongue out, she licked the tip, tasting his salty precum. She ran her tongue down the underside of his shaft until she reached his balls. There, she stuck her mouth around one, jizz-swollen testicle, sucking on it for a second with her hand around his member, keeping the thick tool even more up. She took her mouth off, running the tongue up the left side of his dick, then down the right, ever so slowly. Then, she brought it back up the bottom of the member, Jon staring at her, wide-eyed. She ran her tongue around the head, swirling around it, before licking the slit of it, pushing her tongue against the hole. Jon was speechless when she stuck her mouth on the head, sucking on it, simultaneously swirling her tongue around it. Soon, she brought her tongue to the underside of his cock, and began to bob her head up and down the phallus, taking a little bit more each time, her tongue running along the bottom of his shaft.

Jon, deciding to return the favor, sat up, reached down, and grabbed her hips, turning her and picking her up, until her pussy sat directly above his face, and she returned to her work. He started by running his tongue just around the outer edge of her cunt, hearing her half moan and half whine. He ran his tongue down her slit, slowly, somewhat forcefully pushing his tongue against the lips. Then, once at the end of it, he brought his tongue back down one lip, then slowly back up the other, pleased with her throaty moan adding more pleasure to her oral efforts. He found the right hole in her slit, pushing his tongue in, then moving it in and out. The noises she made urged him on, and he stuck his tongue as far in as it would go, before pushing it against the edges and dragging it up and down the hole. Soon enough, he felt his balls tightening and knew he was close, so he pulled out his tongue, earning a whine from her. He placed his tongue on her clit once he found it, and began to lap at it as he teased a finger in to her folds. He felt himself cumming and managed not to be too loud as he shot his load into her moaning mouth. She seemed to swallow the cum, before sitting back and riding his face and finger. He added a second one, scissoring them inside her snatch. She nearly screamed, and her snatch clinched around his fingers, her juices shooting out all over his face, some falling in his mouth. After she finished riding out her orgasm, she turned, moving her body down until her wet and pulsating core was on his midriff, less than a foot away from the tip of his again hardening dick. She lapped at the juices on his face, cleaning it of her love juices.

Jon flipped them over, realizing they had gotten to the middle of the bed. She was on her back and his tip was at the opening of her entrance. She initiated the lip locking this time, as he pushed his cock in to her, an inch at a time, her wet, velvety, vice-grip of a vagina having to stretch and accommodate his member, fighting him for every inch. When he took his mouth off hers, she moaned out loud, a sound that made Jon's legs burst with energy, ready to move.

He started slow, moving in and out of her, pulling out more with each pull back, a half inch at a time, until he was to the point that every time he pulled out, his head was the only thing left in. He started picking up speed, putting more force in to each thrust.

"Ooooooo my king, your cock, oh gods," Arianne started, unable to finish whatever sentence she had started. Her back arched slightly, her hips moving up to meet his. He began to drive in to her, one forearm keeping him off of her now, the other playing with her right nipple. He pinched and pulled, twisting it only slightly, gaining gasps from her as he began to hammer in to her, pounding away at her core. His hand that had been on her nipple traveled down, grazing her belly button and her navel, reaching her little button. He began playing with her clit, pulling and rubbing at it, as he pushed himself, forcefully and quickly, into her wet, welcoming opening, over and over again. Soon she was panting, moaning louder than before.

"OOOOOO JOOON!" Arianne shouted as she climaxed, her back arching until midriff met his and her cunt squeezing him, making it impossible to move for fear of cumming. Finally, she same down from her high, and he rolled her over and she got on all fours. He sat back and enjoyed the sight of her big, juicy, ass and lovely, juicy cunt staring at him. She moved her hips, wiggling her ass at him. With her ass jiggling towards him, Jon was more than ready.

He moved forward, impaling her with his cock in one swift thrust. She nearly screamed again, moaning like an expert as he pounded in to her again. He leaned back as he thrust in to her as hard and quickly as he could, pushing her forward each time, only for her to get fully impaled and smacked by his body every time she came back and met another thrust. Every time he pulled out, the walls hugged his member, embracing him whenever he came back in. From his position, the Stark king looking down at her ass, the perfect amount of muscle and fat, in his opinion. Just enough muscle to keep her ass from having some serious fat dimples, but more than enough fat to keep her ass very mobile and beautiful, constantly smacking and jiggling as he hammered home. He reached out and grabbed one hip and one cheek as he pounded in to her, admiring her ass. He moved one hand up to grab her hair, pulling her head back and arching her back more, as the other hand slapped one ass cheek then the other, slowly turning her brown ass red.

"OOO..." Her scream of euphoria was cut off at the intense pleasure coursing through her as he starting thrusting in to her even faster. She went silent, her mouth in a perfect O, and her eyes rolled in to the back of her head. Her arms gave out, so now she lay on her chest, the side of her face pressed in to the bed. He leaned forward, feeling himself growing closer to his own orgasm, pounding in to her and using gravity to help him, now thrusting forward and downward, in to her. His hands left her body, one now on either side of her head as he forced himself through her lips, over and over again. She had never had sex on this level of savage passion, and she couldn't gather her thoughts. His hand moved up her throat, firm, grabbing partially on her jaw. He turned her face toward him, and when they made eye contact, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own. He was so close now, pounding as if his life depended on it. He grunted and growled, snarled and howled, sounding so much like he did in battle. She was speechless, unable to make any noises come out, save for two, in a whimper.

"In me," Arianne managed to croak out, pleasure still coursing through her. One of his hands reached forward, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her into his thrust as the other hand stayed on her neck. Another orgasm hit her, sending her pussy in to a violent seizure, shuddering and squeezing around his cock as he unloaded all his pent up hormones in to her core, before her orgasm drove him over the edge. He continued to hammer in to her, regardless of how difficult it was with the vice grip, and shot one load in to her, then another, painting her walls with his cum, then another shot, and another. Jon unloaded in her, filling her to the brim, much of it going straight for her womb, some even being forced out of the hole due to the pressure in her core. He howled in to the night air, marking her body as his with his baby batter.

Lemon Over

When Jon came down from his high, he felt exhausted, unable to stay up anymore. He fell to Arianne's side, she falling with him, so that they stayed together, him still in her. Both were in a state of bliss, and neither had any words. Finally, just as they were both so close to sleep, Arianne spoke.

"I'll agree to the marry you whether you will or won't, my King," She stated, turning to look at him, dark and ominous in the moonlight with his sword behind him against the bed and his back to the door, in between her and anybody who may enter. He made eye contact, and reached forward, trapping her lips in a short, passionate, and sweet kiss. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes.

"I would have to be the world's greatest fool to say no, my Queen," He replied, drawing relief and happiness to both their eyes. And with that, they both drifted off in to a sound sleep.

-Linebreak-

When the Dornish dawn splashed across Jon's face, and he opened his eyes to see another, he experienced beauty in it's most honest hour. She had no jewelry or fancy clothes on, no products from across the seas to make her pretty, her hair was splayed and tangled everywhere. All the same, Jon had never seen a face more beautiful than hers in that moment. He watched her face, like an angel out of some story. Then, her eyes opened.

They were a dark hazel and brown, impossible to place. Although from a distance they may just seem brighter than other brown eyes, they were far from average and dull, as most thought about brown eyes. There were so many shades, flecks of colors, different designs in the iris. It was breathtaking. She smiled at him, at first a genuine one, which he returned. He kissed her on her nose.

"I wish you would smile like this more often, Queen, it makes you even more beautiful than you already are," She blushed slightly before sighing, laying her head on his outstretched arm.

"So, are you to leave this morning, my King?" She asked, confused, because she had never felt this nervous and bad by the thought of a man leaving.

"Yes, my Queen. I have a job to do. And, before that, I must visit my mother, my birth mother, at Starfall," He played with her hair as he looked in her eyes, explaining his need to leave, and noticed the hint of fear in her eyes. "I shall come back, I promise you that."

"I have finally found a man I am happy to marry, who I believe I can learn to love, and he is leaving me for war," She stated, feeling like crying. "You may die, and even if you don't you may find another while you are gone. I will share you with no woman, Jon Stark." He laughed, and she had the urge to slap him. He smiled his most genuine grin at her.

"I would expect no less of you, mo Banríon," He kissed her on the lips, and she sighed.

"Mo Banríon?" She asked. He smiled.

"It means, my queen." She blushed and he grinned. She resumed her seriousness.

"At least, help me talk to my father, say yes to the marriage and allow me to come to Starfall. I will go no further, I will stay there," Jon looked unsure so she continued, "I have heard, from rumors, how your mother is. I can help her, you being there will help the most, but her only son's bride-to-be would certainly be able to help, if I were to stay there. Especially if your seed quickens in me. I imagine her good-daughter and her grandchild would be quite a bright addition to her life while you are at war." Jon could find no way to argue with her and groaned.

"I can see this is the beginning of a long line of me being wrong and you always being right," He moaned out. She smiled and patted his cheek.

"At least you know, and that's half the battle," She smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He sat up, picking her up with him. He stood, and grabbed her hands, gently helping her off the bed, knowing she must have been sore after last night. He grabbed her dress and sandals, and started to help her put them on.

"I may be sore, but I can do it myself, husband," She teased at him. He blushed and grumbled, turning and grabbing his own clothes, hurriedly putting them on. Grabbing her hand he led her to the door and opened it, dragging her with him in to the hall, when they turned and spotted Doran, Oberyn, Smalljon and Skulgarth all stopped and staring at them.

"Uuuuuuhhh… I accept your proposal?" Jon spoke, the end more of a question than anything. He blushed when Oberyn and the Smalljon laughed out loud, Skulgarth and Doran opting for small smiles.

"Oh, young love, eh Doran?" Oberyn said to his brother, laughing again.

"Quite," Was the response.

"Come on, lover boy," The Smalljon spoke, "You need to grab your armor so we can go. We've got several stops before we can come back."

"Aye, and we mustn't take long, lest Nym grow weary in your absence," Jon teased back at his best friend, garnering a 'shut up'.

"Oh, and, my Prince Doran, I have spoke with Arianne, and we both think it would be good to come to Starfall. No further," Jon started before being interrupted.

"Yes, yes, son, she may, so long as you can promise that I'll get a letter if my grandchild is on the way," Doran jested, gathering laughs from everyone but Jon. "Come now, my future son, we have gifts out by your ship."

Upon arrival at the Seawolf, Jon once again was hot as Hell in his armor. However, his day was off to a good start and only got better when he saw the horse by his ship. It was a dark gray, almost black steed, much like his armor or his eyes, not as large as some warhorses, but larger than Dornish steeds. At Jon's stare of wonderment, Oberyn explained.

"His father was a destrier, one of those warhorses you Northerners like. A big and mean one, at that. He bred with our fastest female, and this was their offspring. Bigger than our steeds, but smaller than warhorses. A big beast, strong enough to carry armor and an armored man, but with the stamina and energy of a Dornish steed, though not as quick. And here, one from me," Oberyn handed him a blade in a sheath. (A.N. the blade is the Felon knife from ZombieTools.) When Jon unsheathed it, it was a large knife, with a beautiful shape, and a Valyrian Steel blade. It had no fancy handle, but it was beautiful in a simple way nonetheless.

"I thank you, Prince Oberyn," Jon started but was interrupted by Oberyn placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You are to marry my niece, Jon," Oberyn started, squeezing his shoulder, "You are family, my new nephew. Besides, you have vowed to help serve our family justice, and that was before you became part of our family. I imagine there is no way you cannot keep your word now."

Jon laughed before turning back to his new mount. Petting it for a while, he took the reigns and turned to Arianne.

"Come on, mo Banríon, to Starfall we go."

Light chapter, gon' be light and dark next chapter, which I'm workin' on now.