So I gave up resisting, you have smut! With rather a lot of heavy characterization and sexpostition. :P Though shorter and less detailed then I usually like to do, but fanfiction has burned me before because I *gasp* prefer realistic sex scenes! I just can't right the fantasy silliness without thinking "ow, ow".
I shall be leaving that poll up, consider this instinctive to make your wishes known. If lots of people chime in I might risk removing my last few filters for this story, cause then hopefully. Fanfiction won't burn me and pull the story.
In other news, I have another job and school so chapters might slow up for a while. Good news though, we are at our 80th review! If the 100th person wishes for a one shot, I will do my best to accommodate. So with that we are back to regular scheduled programing! I only have one other showing of my other stories characters, so for those who found it jarring you shall not have to worry about it for a while again. Though it was in the summary people.
Roberts Return
Herian awoke with a groan. "Plough me sideways." she rolled over on to her front to hide from the sunshine piercing her room. Her head was pounding and she needed to piss, it was the latter that motivated her out of her bed to the privy.
On the way out after a much needed teeth cleaning she shielded her eyes from the sun. A thaw had set it, no doubt thanks to her sending the clouds away yesterday. By the height of the sun she guessed it was around noon. "Fuck." she hissed and stumbled towards the clothes she had discarded yesterday, pulling them slowly on. Then putting her Daedric armour away before she stubbed her toes on it.
She picked her way through the halls, hands trailing against the walls as she stumbled around. Sure enough lunch was just concluding by the time she made it to the great hall. Ned was talking with Jory, Sansa was delighted that the rest of their things and people had arrived from Kings Landing.
Eddard caught sight of the squinting elf and smiled, Harmiands letter had been a bit shocking, but very informative. He would be sure to pass it around to his boys when they were a bit older, and when Herian wouldn't miss it.
Herian approached her lord and tried to give him a smile but winced at a reflection of sun from a plate.
Feeling sympathetic Ned put himself between him and the reflection. "Having a nice morning? Or should I say afternoon?" He spoke louder than necessary.
The elf tried to glare at him, walked up to him, then the light hit her face again. With a groan she let her head fall into the middle of his chest. "Kill me now."
"And loose you demanding to be cuddled? Never!" A grin broke over Neds face, she really had been too cute last night.
Herian groaned louder and pretended Jory, Sansa and a good chunk of the kitchen staff weren't there.
Ned patted her on the back. "There, there, you didn't sing naked on the rampants or anything like that. You kept your antics to your room."
"Dare I ask what I did?" she grumbled into his chest.
"Said many flattering things, gave me quite a few kisses and you were determined to have me in your bed."
Jory Cassel laughed and turned it into a cough.
"Where might I find a crossbow? I am feeling the sudden need to shoot myself." She rested her hands on Neds belt, without so sort of grounding she was sure she would die of embarrassment. That and her head was pounding, putting her hands on the very stable man, was probably a very good idea. The last thing she needed was for everyone to see how horribly unbalanced she was.
Ned bit back a laugh, nearly joining in with Jory. It was hard not to let loose a bellow of chuckles, but after what she had done? It would have been a bit rude to laugh in the face of her embarrassment. His children were doing enough of that as it was.
Course, that didn't keep a smile off his face.
"Come now, no need to be so dramatic." he mused, "You knew there would be time for regret later. So I'd say just get it over with. You certainly could have done worse."
The cheeky smirk he had spoke volumes more than what the Stark's words had, but he couldn't find the urge to care in him. Not even the glare Herian shot him could wipe it away. Her gaze could have felt like a dozen hot daggers plunging themselves into the center of his forehead and yet the man's expression would not falter, not a bit.
"Fuck me." she muttered and let her head thud back against Neds chest. Quietly thankful for all the layers between, it made his chest softer. She could have done much worse, though she did remember pouncing on him nude. Unfortunately she didn't remember much after that. Talking was a hard painful thing, she desperately wanted to go back to bed. Hide from the world for a little while longer, she breathed deeply and purred. There was that lovely scent that she had awoken too. It stirred up more fuzzy recollections. "At least I am not wearing Sansa clothes." She muttered. Nope waking up in Ghanis' clothes once was more then enough of dresses for her.
Ned chuckled, "Now that, is something we can both agree on."
Looking out from where the two were, Ned could only imagine the sheer reaction if Herian had stumbled out whilst wearing his daughter's attire. Poor Jory would likely be on the ground, holding his sides as he laughed the night away. Of course, that might have been better that coughing up a storm due to his drink going down the wrong pipe but Ned wasn't too sure. There was only so much a man could take before he collapses out of his chair with his lungs already half empty.
Then of course, there would be his children. How would they have reacted to such a sight, especially Sansa herself. If Herian had been caught in that, Ned was sure he would not have seen her for at least a week or so. It was her after all. If the Witcher did not want to be found and had a damn good reason for it, then she wouldn't be for several days. Perhaps a bit of food would be needed to draw her out? He wasn't sure and gave the matter little thought.
After all, this was far more amusing anyway.
Herian pulled away, her head was pounding too loudly for her ears to work right. "You are enjoying this far to much." She did remember him picking her up and she was pretty sure she kissed him a far bit. Seeing as she had, as far as she was concerned a good excuse.
She moved a hand grabbed his collar and pulled him down. Laying a quick sober kiss on his lips this time, let him go put her hands on her hips and said. "I am hung over, that is my excuse I am sticking to it!" She then tried to go around him, only to stumble as her balance decided to desert her.
Ned reached up and held his arms out in case they were needed. The sudden and rather sloppy kiss had caught the Stark off guard, though not for long. He smirked at her sharp tone and how the elf had tried to stand without his help. Out of everything he could have seen, Ned wasn't sure if he had ever expected to see her in such a condition. With how she held herself normally, it might have been rather off putting indeed for such a sudden change.
Though given the time he had spent in King's Landing, the matter of hangovers wasn't much of a surprise to the Lord. The matter who had been doing it was, of course, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.
"Fine, fine. Fair enough." he mused, "If you're so adamant on what had happened, then who am I to stop you from stumbling off?"
Ned suddenly smirked, "Just do be careful. The last thing one would need is to be bumping off walls and tripping over carpets due to a mere hangover."
Herian rounded on the Lord, "I am always-" Her left foot got caught behind her right heel and she fell face first into Eddards waiting arms. "Carefull." she muttered against his tunic. "Dignity, dignity, where aren't thou?"
"I'm rather sure it left some time ago." Ned chuckled, "Might have gone after a pint or two, perhaps even longer. It often does take its leave once it spots wind of some ale."
With the kind of drink they often had, the matter of someone's dignity was almost like a foreign concept in its own right. As he gazed down at her, the Stark could admit that out of all the matters that revolved around drinking too much, Herian might have gotten herself let off rather cleanly with all things considered. Could have been worse.
Though with her laying in his arms, barely able to stand, let alone leave, it was rather difficult for the man to think of a situation that could have been any better. Surely, it was one of the more entertaining after mornings. Certainly, as at least no one else was making a complete and utter fool out of themselves, yet.
"Would you kindly help me to the table? And water, lots and lots of water. Then I think I shall find some dark corner of the Godswood to hide in." She definitely wouldn't protest against a lift, just this time she would refrain from showering his neck in kisses.
Ned smiled. "As you wish." And sweeped her legs out of her in the same manner as last night and chuckled at the undignified yelp that the elf let loose.
Herian wrapped an arm around his shoulder and let her head fall against his collar when Jory let loose another round of side clutching laughter.
"Water and black bread." Ned said to a passing giggling servant girl.
She nodded and raced off to tell the kitchen of events.
Ned set Herian down in her usual spot and almost as soon as he put her down she, she folded her arms on the table and buried her head in them.
Ned sat beside her astride on the bench. "I take it you had a good night then?"
"Aye." Came lowy from the elf.
Eddard smiled, he could only imagine what the two got up too. "What were you drinking?" he asked.
"The Gauntlet. Its White Gull mixed with other spirits." Thud thud thud went her head.
"White Gull?"
"It's a mix of Mandrake Cordial, Redanian Herbal, Cherry Cordial. It's used as a base for most witcher potions."
"So you ingested how many different alcohols?" Ned was beginning to see the picture.
The elf raised four fingers.
"All at once?"
A nod.
"I think you would do Robert proud." The elf really could hold her liquor, most men would be under the table right now.
"Practice, Witcher work can be stressful, there is always at least one party in the winter. The houch flows, and stories are traded, that whole, celebrating living another year thing."
The water and food arrived and Herian attacked the pitcher, pouring it into cup just so she would drink it easier.
Ned let her be till she had downed half of the pitcher and started in on bread. "So you two were up there for a while, did you find out what you wanted?"
Herian nodded and smiled meekly, the water was helping. "Aye, we talked about the family, played Gwent and he cleared up my theories on how I got here."
"Oh?" That had been a lingering question.
"You unlucky sods, are going to be the part of a Conjunction of spheres. I was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time." She didn't really like the dense black bread, but it was filling.
"A what?" Ned did not like where this was going.
"Conjunction of spheres, it's when the worlds come into alignment. Stuff often falls through, that's why on Harimands world there is monsters, most weren't native. Take vampires, they only appeared during a Conjunction, Giants are the same. For all I know, they could have come from here." Herian took another long drink, she was quickly dreading winter.
"Is there a why to stop it?" Ned asked.
Herian shook her head. "This is a naturally occurring one, were it forced, there would be. Ciri would be able to help. But this has been going on for months, maybe years. It won't be over for years yet."
"So our world maybe become a bit more like yours?" That was a frightening idea.
Herian nodded and said after taking another drink. "You've already had a Leshen, a thankfully easy Leshen." She shook her head. "I have no idea, how much you'll get or lose, or how much will awaken with you coming winter. What is native, what's not. We'll just have to wait and see."
Asking Old Nan to retell some of her stories was starting to sound like a very good idea. Ned decided to find time to listen again, the old stories might be the best source of information that they would have.
Some weeks later found Herian pouting in the middle of Sansa room.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Grumbled the elf.
"Oh hush, you look lovely." Sansa added a piece of ribbon to the elfs hair.
"I feel like a doll."
Sansa giggled and ignored the glare her Septa sent her way.
"Father will appreciate it." Sansa employed her not so secret weapon.
The Witcheress pouted but stopped complaining.
Sansa added on last ribbon. "There done!"
The girl had braided Herian wild red mane into two northern braids, one ribbon where the were drawn together at the back of her head, another at the end.
Herian reached up and poked a braid, it did feel very nice and she would feel a breeze around her collar which was a strange thing. "Thank you."
Sansa was about to speak when Bran burst through the door. "Lord Robert is here!"
The girl rose to chase after Bran but Herian caught her wrist and they went to the window instead,
Sure enough the two could see Robert and Eddard in the courtyard, though their greeting was significantly less joyful than at Roberts last visit.
"Who's that with him?" Sansa asked, squinting into the yard.
"Sandor." Herian said with a tight smile.
"The Hound?" Sansa asked her eyes widening. "Why would he come here?"
"Your Father asked me to extend a job offer to him. Either he is here with Robert, or he is here to accept the offer." Ned looked tense and Robert looked chastised. "I think we should let them be for a while."
The Weirwood tree.
In and around the north, trees and forest were often aplenty. It would be fairly hard to go through the vast countrysides of the frozen lands without seeing some sort of green somewhere. Often the columns of bark made up vast fields of greenery that could go on for miles at a time. It wouldn't be too uncommon for some poor sap to become lost in such a place if they didn't know any better. But inside these mighty patches of wood, there were things that stuck out even among their ancient roots. Trees that looked different than the rest, that seemed less natural and more akin to something found in a tale spoken to a child before bed. They had large, winding branches that reached up to the sky. Each were split off from the main log like tendrils of a massive beast. Yet of all, the leaves were some of the most striking of features these trees possessed. No matter the season, the weather, or anything in between, the leaves were always the color of freshly drawn blood.
In front of such a strange tree, Ned and Robert gazed up at its ashen white surface. Against the chilling breeze, neither spoke. To both men, their time standing next to each other felt like hours, an eternity in some respects. But in truth, it had been mere minutes since their arrival.
As he gazed into one of tree's many 'faces', Robert lowered his head and coughed. The sound broke the Stark's gaze from the tree and turned his head. The Northerner's eyes found the former king, with a gaze calmly focused solely on the dirt beneath their feet.
"Everytime I look at one of these things, I can't help but wonder if at some particular moment, these faces are going to look back at me and say something."
Ned raised a brow and glanced at the tree, "It's hard not to imagine such a thing happening. Sometimes, I could almost mistake one of them with someone else I know." A warm chill passed through the eldest Stark, it took all of his willpower to keep focused on Robert. Not chase down the strange feeling.
"Can be a bit, unsettling, can't it?"
Among the chilling forest, the larger of the two men let out a small chuckle. Robert raised one of his hands and brushed his fingertips across his forehead. The chuckle continued, but not with the same energy or merriment that Ned was so used to. What came out of the man who once lorded over the seven kingdoms felt much like something belonging to a shadow. Some faint echo of a man from long ago, someone who had been snapped out of a long dream quite suddenly. It must have been painful, and far too sudden for any manner of sane men.
Robert ran his hand down the front of his face, "When I look into one of these...things, I can almost feel as if I'm looking into a mirror. It almost makes me feel sick to my stomach."
"Why? Too much to drink, or does your face really seem that revolting?"
Once more, what came next surprised Ned. By all accounts, he half expected the former King to snap at him with a bit of anger. It wouldn't have been too undeserving with what he had just said, but that was Robert for you. For a King, he had never had the best of tempers. Sometimes, Ned wondered if he should have hired someone to help the man with that little issue. Could have done wonders with those decisions he'd snap to whenever his blood began to boil. Might have saved him quite a lot of stress in the process.
Instead of such a reaction though, Robert merely shook his head.
"A tad. Though reminding me of my age is only part of it." he mused, "No. That's not it though."
Robert raised his head and looked toward the closest of the faces he could find. The former King's gaze found its way and met with the carving's very own pair of eyes. Silence swiftly followed for a moment or two, but was quickly broken with yet another sigh.
"One look at these creatures makes me wonder." Robert muttered, "What have they been through? What troubles they had been forced to struggle through? Had they been quick? Long and drawn out? Did they even live past them, or die in some tragic matter that no one soul could have had even the slightest ounce of control over?"
Robert lowered his head. Near his foot was a pebble, barely the size of his thumb. With a narrowed gaze in his eyes, the former king kicked the stone and bounced off one of the roots of the mighty tree.
"Did they spend their last moments regretting their decision in such matters, or did they merely spend it glancing up at a tree and muttering some mad bit of talk?"
Ned raised a brow, yet said nothing. There wasn't much to say anyway. Instead, he stood with his boots on the ground and regarded the former King as he turned away from the tree and shot him a small, if tired look. Since he laid eyes on the larger man, it was a matter the lord couldn't help but notice. Robert looked and acted quite tired. Not the absolute wreck he seemed as back at King's Landing, but a great weight had nestled itself upon the former lord's shoulder like a pair of heavy boulders.
Again, Robert shook his head, "Whatever the case, it doesn't really matter."
"Whatever they had done, I'm sure these poor fools dug their own holes, just as I have." he grumbled, "It is something I'm sure you've been waiting to hear from me though, after everything. I can just feel you trembling with excitement to utter those meager words."
Ned raised a brow, "I'm not sure I know what you mean-"
"Don't."
Like the snap of a twig, Ned stopped. His words fell back down his throat, retreating as Robert cut him off. His tone wasn't sharp or angered through. Much the opposite really. Like the chilling air that surrounded the duo, the former King's words were like a frosty breeze that spilled out from a much more vicious wind.
Robert regarded the Stark with a flat stare, "Since you arrived, I can tell you've been waiting for it. A moment to rub the truth in my face, gloat that I finally saw things past whatever thick piece of wall that I used to block myself off from the truth."
His shoulders sank, "So, if you're going to do it, I'd much rather you do it now and get it over with."
"I think you're confusing me with someone else." Ned noted. That seemed much more in line with a certain elf that was likely hanging out back at the castle. If she had the chance, he was certain she would lay into the old man without a hint of hesitation. Hell, she would be gloating with the top of her lungs. The Stark could practically hear her gleeful gloating that very second.
By the look on Robert's face, he could as well.
Speaking of which, Robert rolled his eyes at such words, "Perhaps, but I'd find it rather particular if you didn't have at least a smeg of gloating in you past all that ice and frost."
The air was cold, as it often was in the North. An icy chill ran down the back of both men's back. It was akin to a frozen blade being pressed against an exposed bit of flesh. Robert felt a particular shiver run down the base of his spine. For what seemed like an hour or so, the larger man spared the Stark a small stare. The two eyes bored into the lord of the North, waiting for something, anything to come from it. But, nothing did.
Robert grumbled, "Fine, if you won't do it, then I shall."'
"Few could say that they had what I did, even at the dead end of their very lives." he sighed, "Land to rule, men and women at my beck and call, more wine and ale than I could possibly drink."
He shook his head, "The two of us muddled through more than enough blood and body parts in our day. I stood atop a mountain of corpses, upon a throne of swords. And even with all of that, I was blind. What was right in front of me for such a long time. A lie that was staring me dead in the face long before my ale battered brain could take notice, and yet not once did I even bother to squint my eyes at what might have been there all along."
"Months, years, every damn day I sat with that woman by my side, and never once did I even raise a brow at what she did. The hidden smiles she shot her brother, the smirks, and the distained glances she shot in my direction at every opportune moment. Even that little bastard of a boy. Was I just that full of it that I never even pondered the thought that he might not have been mine. My father could be a bit of an arse at times, but I would think my blood would be more rational than anything that came out of the maw of that little shit."
Robert ran one of his hands through his frazzled hair, "It's maddening. I kept women by my side and never took a step out of my chambers without some sort of drink in my hand. Maybe I did notice and simply sought to drown out the pathetic truth with as much ale as I could stuff down my throat."
"And that, is a lot of ale." Ned noted, earning a sad nod from the former King.
He sighed, "Yes, yes it was. Hell, my throat feels utterly parched. I haven't had a good drink since I left that rotten place. My head hurts, my brain feels as if it's rattling around inside my noggin, and my legs? Oh, don't even get me started on that."
Ned smirked, "Well, I've told you a good walk couldn't hurt you all that much. May finally help with that gut of yours. No more need of a stretcher for that armor you used to wear."
"Very funny."
The two men battered back a small laugh between each other. It was short, but sweet. Robert could hardly remember the last time he had laughed like that. These past few weeks had surely left little room for some chuckling. Though as they laughed, the former King glanced up and noticed a leaf. A small leaf, fluttering down from the mighty tree. It was red, blood red, almost as if someone had ripped open their own flesh and drenched it with as much fluid as they could muster without passing out.
When he saw it, Robert stopped laughing.
"Yet with all the aches I have, my heart and pride feels it the most." he sighed, "It is as you and that woman had spoken of."
"I am no King. I haven't been a King for years now. All I've been is some drunken slob, sitting atop a throne that I stole, with a woman at my side. A woman who was more concerned with fucking her brother than being a queen, and having more bastards than I'd rather come to admit."
Bitter, tasteless words dribbled up from the man's throat. Robert clenched his eyes shut and bit back another curse. Throughout the long and treacherous journey to the North, the former King had spent far more than his fair share of time cursing what had happened. Days spent muttering whatever wayward curse and yell he could muster He could recall the confused looks spared toward him by random bystanders that passed him on the road. Upon his arrival though, the man felt as if he had little more to curse about. He felt drained, empty, and nothing else to say. Anything else would be a wasted breath, nothing more.
The tired man lowered his head and let loose a small sigh. He crossed his arms and shook his head. In the presence of the Stark, the tree, and whatever else he could spy throughout the forest, Robert felt empty. No anger, no rage, there wasn't even a hint of disappointment left. In the past, the man would have found anything to blame his worries on. His right hand, his wife, the Kingdom, and even the ale he so casually shoved down his throat at any given time during the day. Now though? There wasn't anything, not a bit. The former King looked to himself and felt the urge to turn on his heel and walk away.
Such thoughts came to an end though when a hefty smack slammed into the man's back. Robert stumbled forward and sputtered about, unprepared for whatever had hit him. With a glare in his eyes, the former King snapped around and turned to face whatever had smacked him without his permission.
Ned had slapped Robert on the back with a loud smack. The sound of the impact echoed through the forest, more than loud enough to catch the former King's attention. As he turned though, the larger man was met with an expression he rarely saw upon the Stark's face. It wasn't one of cold indifference, irritation, or a hefty glare that could knock even the most composed men off their feet like a good hook to the face. Instead, the old time friend looked at him with a pair of warm eyes, and the lightest of smirks that he had seen in quite a long time. He could barely even realize he was looking at the Lord of the North, the smile clashed that much with what was normally seen atop the man's face.
"Lesser men, would have done nothing. One undeserving of such a title, might have remained on his throne, aware of what was happening around him, and done nothing. Such a man would have merely drank ale from sunrise to sunset, using it to put their minds off what was happening until the day they would find themselves as a rotten pile of flesh, face first in the dirt. To such meager men, they would be unfit to sit upon a throne, even one made of straw."
Ned chuckled, "And that, least to me, makes you a King."
"Once you bore witness to what was happening around you, you did what you had to. Robert, you turned away, you denied them what they were muttering about in their towers, behind closed doors. You could have remained blind to what was happening around you, and yet. You didn't. Witnessing the vile snakes slithering around your house, you threw that ale aside and bid them farewell. The snakes have but the wolves to contend with now, and you decided to leave them to their fate, instead of being dragged down to the depths along with them."
He gave Robert a good, firm pat on his shoulder, "You may not have seen it for such a long time, but when you did, you realized what had to be done. That is what makes a King. Perhaps not the one you wanted to be, but it is what you are."
Robert said nothing, not a word. The former King lowered his gaze and stared at the snow ridden ground. But in his silent, the man smiled. He felt the grip of Ned's hand and chuckled. A deep, bombastic chuckle. It started out slow, but slowly it worked its way up the man's throat and erupted out like a slow burning fire. Throughout the forest, the sound of a Baratheon's laughter echoed outward, all for anyone to hear.
Ned smiled, content with the man's laughter. With another pat, the Stark helped his friend raise his head and laugh. The two shared a long, content bit of chuckling between the two of them. Neither could remember the last time either of them had done such a thing. With nothing hanging out in the back of their mind, nothing nagging at them constantly like a maggot nibbling into their flesh. There was none of that, not a hint of it. Both friends stood in front of the massive Weirwood tree and laughed, for longer than either of the pair could have expected. In the end though, neither could find even the slightest urge to stop. Not for a moment.
As minutes passed and as snow fell around them, the laughter began to subside. Robert heaved himself up and held his stomach. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, a sentiment that even Ned could agree with. The Stark kept himself on his feet with a hand on the Baratheon's shoulder. If the two laughed any harder, either of them were sure they'd find itself rather difficult to breath for a good while.
Ned chuckled, "Now then, with that settled."
"What are you going to do now?" he asked, "I'm sure you don't have many places to go these days. I'm still surprised to see you looking so well after such a journey here."
Robert waved a hand, still having trouble catching his breath, "Well, that is the question isn't it. I could perhaps go seek out my brothers. I'm sure to get an ear full from them, but that is to be expected. Might as well get it over with before they grow even more angry with me."
The Lord of the North shook his head, "Perhaps, but until then, you're welcome here in Winterfell as long as you may require for yourself."
"No," Robert shook his head, "There is no need. You have done more than enough for me, I couldn't possibly take up room in your home, not after all the trouble I have caused you."
Ned raised a brow, "You are one for trouble, but this is still my keep. If I wish to have a guest, then that is my decision. It might not be what you're used to, but I'm sure it'll be decent enough for you."
"Thank you." Robert said and both men turned to the sound of eerie singing.
Herian before the hearth of her room, a large new tome sitting enfront of her. It had been in Harimands box, Harimand had taken far too much delight later in his life, experimenting with the natural magics of new worlds and forms of channelling and absorbing these energies.
The book detailed these forms, as the elf was still very drained from her fight with the Witcher. Herian was attempting to learn these new techniques, stress on attempting.
She breathed deeply and fell into her Witchers mediation, slowly opening herself to the lay lines of the land.
Bit by bit, cell by cell, she let her walls down, Winterfells magic was warm, pleasant even. She didn't go soul running, just stayed in her own skin. It still felt alien to her, there was no Aetherius here to absorb from. This magic hummed through the land and grew with each passing minute. It was a small, tiny change, like water eroding away at a stream, but given enough time a stream could become a river.
She called her soul up, her dragon and wolf.
They rose and she let out a small moan as they left her body to sit beside her. The Laylines gift was more intense now, with no flesh to protect her. Herian called out softly, a wordless cry, the magic seeped into her. She could feel her pool returning bit by bit, but it felt less and less like proper Magicka.
It felt warm one moment, icy the next and it seeped deeper and deeper, her magicka started to change and warp to it. Now she was starting to understand why the Starks were famous for being cold with wolf hearts. If this was what lurked under there skin? This wild magic of ice and fire, it made her wolf want to run free.
Herian could feel the land itself, it remembered peoples and powers dating back to the first men. A human magic, not of this place, yet this place adopted them, took them in and made them its. The elf prodded that magic of the land, tested it.
What she found was family, a family worth of magic, renewed and weaken, throughout the ages. She felt Eddard and his children, though they were lesser than him, if still strong. Had Herian the thought to spare, she would think that Catylen must not have had any magic to pass on.
The Starks felt a strange warmth crawl through them, Jon snapped his head away from his book and left his room.
Deeper and deeper, more and more. It hurt, it burned, it was soft, yet it hurt more and more. The elf tried to fight it away, draw back into herself. It was like something was sinking her claws into her, voices filled her head. Not letting her go, demanding to be heard. A thousand, thousand voices, voices that spoke in tongues no man could speak, voices to deep to be human, others in tongues Westeros had forgotten.
Jon burst into the room in time to see her fall forward to the ground and scream. "Sehttayemohtpayem!"
Her soul snapped back into her skin and she fell to the side, eyes wide and unseeing, panting all the while.
Jon raced over, "Herian!" Kneeling he helped her sit back up. "What happened?"
She pressed a palm to her temple. "Was trying to absorb your worlds magic, it hurts." She wrapped her arms around her. Her heart felt like it might burst, the magic she had taken in squirmed and wriggled around within her like a worm. It felt like her skin was humming with the new power, but couldn't figure out what to do with it.
"Can I help?"
She shook her head, her red locks falling into disarray. "Need time."
Jon sat beside her crossing his legs. "Alright."
Herian looked at the teen and remembered the incoming Conjunction of spheres. He had grown, learned, been open to all manner of things, but he would never be a match for most monsters. She bit her lip and made a choice. "Jon, remember once not long after we meant I mentioned that my Wolf Gift can be passed on?"
Jon nodded.
"Would you like it? I will teach you control of course, but." She squeezed herself tighter, oh it burned a frozen fire. "I think that maybe it would be good for you to have it. I wasn't ever going to offer it to you before, your human, and that is good. But being a bit more than human, can never hurt in the long run." If something happened to her it would also leave him with an edge.
Jon was speechless for a moment, the offer, the offer to be like her. He knew it wouldn't all be fun and games, hell it would be bad at times. "Yes, thank you." His gut told him that this was the right move.
Herian picked herself up. "Come on then, the sun is still up and a run will do me good."
They retrieved the cloaks and walked out of Winterfell, once in the Wolfs Wood, they stayed close to castle. Herian picked a glade and stripped, told Jon to do the same. Then gave herself over to her wolf. Strangely the shift was easier then normal and she heard the strangest whispering for a moment.
She held out her right arm to Jon and cut a thin line across her wrist. "A mouthful, no more."
Jon nodded, swallowed and pressed his lips to the cut, he let his mouth fill with tart coppery fluid and then pulled away and swallowed. He coughed and fell to his knees, his chest ached and the change shunted itself through him.
Herian took a step away and watched. She found it odd how, easy the shift was being on him, he was done in seconds.
A huge black wolf rolled to his feet before her, he was bulkier than her and about the same height. Strangely, much of him was shaped just a little more wolven then herself. His fingers shorter and thicker, claws wider, shorter and thicker as well. His pelt was very thick and looked like it would service him well in the coming winter. Ice blue eyes came to focus on her, he growled.
The gold wolf lunged forward and forced him back to the ground closing her jaws around his head. Just holding him, not breaking the skin.
The growl lessened and stopped.
Herian released his head and stepped away, then stood up tall. A short barking laugh escaped her as Jon set about figuring out how to get his new legs under him.
He shook his massive head at her, his ears flicked forward and he gave his own barking laugh.
The gold wolf flicked her wrist in a come gesture and they set off deeper into the forest, walking till Jon got the hang of it. With a single step she switched to all fours and walked around him, showing. Again they did this till Jon was comfortable with it, then they ran!
Jon's heart was singing! It was like Warging Ghost but more intense, it was his own body! He jumped over a great fallen tree and pushed himself to see how fast he could go.
Herian kept easy pass with him, he was doing abnormally well. Maybe there was something about this place that suited werewolves? Her own shift had been easier, watching Jon leap around like a puppy was very amusing. She caught the scent of deer on the wind, an old buck. Within a few strides she caught up with Jon and rubbed her cheek against his. Then flicked her head for him to follow.
She showed than the prowled along the forest floor, when the buck came into sight, Jon fell back to watch. Herian slinked as close as she could and then with a great pounce brought the buck down in one fell swoop. Her teeth tearing its throat out.
The smell of blood made Jons stomach growl, slowly he approached the buck. Herian stepped back allowing him access.
His teeth cut through bone and flesh with easy, and the taste was extraordinary. He let out a rumbled then set about devouring the buck, the gold wolf started to tear out large pieces of her own.
It tasted so good, he tore and feasted crunched the bones and when it was growl he raised his nose and scented for more.
Herian growled at him, drawing his attention back to her. The look on her face made him shudder and he let out a wine.
The gold wolf went around the corpse and rubbed her cheek against his again. Jon inhaled deeply taking in her scent, till the bloodlust faded. He had a new understanding of how she had felt in Kings Landing, hungry, never full. This must be what she said when she talked of control, not to gorge oneself, to know when to stop and be able.
They started back towards Winterfell, back to their clothing.
Herian shifted back first and waited for him.
Jon shook his head when he had returned to his human shape. "How do you do that? Stop?"
Herian smiled and hugged him. "Practice, my father is wolf was well. I did with him, what we just did. Till I could control, sure I fell a bit off the waggon later on, but I never went completely mad."
"How often should we do that?" Jon asked as she pulled away and got dressed.
"Once a month, the full moon. It makes the shift easier." She fixed her cloak.
Jon finished a moment after. "Alright." He breathed deeply, he could smell rain, moss and oak, beyond that some of the small foke were setting about dinner. "That is going to take some getting used too."
The elf smiled knowingly. "That it will."
They returned to Winterfell.
Herian wandered for a bit, Jon had chosen to return to his reading, leaving Herian to work on the problem of her magic alone. After the run she felt less like she was burning from the inside out. The elf subconsciously started to trail her fingers along a the walls as she walked. Feeling the rush of the water through the thick stone, Winterfell had history. A history she hadn't thought about too much since coming, how foolish she had been.
She should have treated this castle like a contract, history was one of the first things Witchers looked at when there was a problem. However she hadn't known there was a problem, she had been sparse with her magic and it had returned. However now drained of all of it, she released just how slow it had been to return. This would not do, sure she probably could manage, but there was a magic here, growing and she was determined to figure it out.
After the first contact, there had been voices. With her now clear mind, she remembered, her feet took her towards the Godswood without her input.
The Weirwood trees and these 'Old Gods' perhaps they were a focus in this lands magic. Maybe she could try meditating under the white skinned tree.
She wandered into the Godswood, she liked it here, it was very different than the southern Kings Landing wood.
This Godswood was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. It had none of the southern red woods. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armoured in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded so close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshappen roots wrestled beneath the soil. All blanketed in a soft white snow. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.
The elf loved this wood, it reminded her of home and resonated in her spirit. When she walked with it, it felt as if Hircine was walking with her, it felt like this place belong in his realm, the Hunting Grounds. Where southern's would feel doom and gloom. She felt a deep life thrumming in the ground, she reached out and touched an ironwood tree. Herian stretched out her soul, and reached into the tree.
Its greeting was strange, like a caress over her spirit, it had a strange voice that she didn't understand. It was one of the voices she had heard before, but this time it was just one. Not near as overwhelming, she tired to ask about the Laylines, but no words could be spoken.
Yet the ironwood understood and Herian's eyes rolled into the back of her head as it pulled her deeper. "See" she was sure it said, and she did see. There was a place of power within the Weirwood tree, the Laylines were strong and growing stronger. Each Weirwood was connected to the others, she didn't try to see through their eyes. She was a stranger in this land. Other voices started to feel her and she asked the ironwood to return her to herself.
The tree was reluctant, but it let her go.
Herian fell to her knees and and took a few deep breaths, her eyes returned to normal. Yes she had made the right step in coming here, slowly she picked herself back up, careful to not touch the tree or any roots and returned to her wanderings. She did not go straight to the Weirwood, instead she enjoyed the scents and sounds of the Godswood. The great creaking as the wind past through the trees, the moan of there swaying.
She opened her mouth to sing out in Daedric, but decided against it. Daedric belonged to the Daedra, theirs was a power, and it was not something she wanted to invoke right now. It was the native language of her magics and it had forced the voices away before. This was their place, she would not use a foreign tongue.
The elf pursed her lips, what should she sing? She need to introduce herself that was clear and the only song she knew of Witchers was one the monsters had created for them. Well she had one for werewolves, perhaps that would be a good start. Herian raised her voice and sang to the Old Gods.
: "The maiden she should at cottage go,
The linden trees tremble in the grove.
The she thook the way to the forest blue.
'Cause she was by love bound.
And when she came to the forest blue,
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
There met her a wolf so gray,
'Cause she was by love bound.
"Dear wolf thou bite not me!
Thee I will give my silver gown."
"Silver gown suits not me,
Thy young life and blood must go."
"Dear thou wolf bite not me!"
The linden trees tremble in the grove.
"Thee I will give my silver shoes"
'Cause she was by love bound."
"Shoes gown suits not me."
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
"Thy young life and blood must go"
'Cause she was by love bound.
"Dear wolf thou bite not me!
Thee I will give my silver crown!"
"Silver crown suits not me,
Thy young life and blood must go."
The maiden she climbed so high in oak.
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
And the wolf he stood on the ground and howled.
'Cause she was by love bound.
And the wolf he tore up the oak by the roots.
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
The maiden she gave such a terrible cry,
'Cause she was by love bound.
Young lad saddles his mount gray,
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
He rode a little faster than the fowl flew,
'Cause she was by love bound.
And when then he came to the place forth,
The linden trees trembles in the grove
Then he found no more than a bloody arm,
'Cause she was by love bound.
Gods comfort Gods help me young lad,
The linden trees trembles in the grove.
My maiden is gone my horse is dead,
'Cause she was by love bound.:"
Her translation wasn't very good, but she hadn't bother to translate this one before now. That said, some tongues just didn't translate nicely to others. Nor did she care she had just told the whole godswood how to hurt her. The elf hoped they would take it as a leap of faith.
The wind picked up and the leaves and pine rustled, creating a symphony of sounds. Herian slowed and listened, though words she could not understand, the wind kissing her cheeks gently.
The Witcher raised her voice in an smooth eerie lullaby.
":Wolves asleep amidst the trees,
Bats all aswayin' in the breeze,
But one soul lies anxious, wide awake,
Fearin' all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths.
For your dolly, polly sleep has flown,
Don't dare let her tremble alone.
For the witcher,
Heartless cold,
Paid in coin of gold,
He comes, he'll go,
Leave naught behind
But heartache alone.
Dee dee ohh.
Birds are silent for the night,
Cows turned in as daylight dies,
But one soul lies anxious wide awake,
Fearin' all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths.
My dear dolly, polly shut your eyes,
Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries.
As the witcher,
Brave and bold,
Paid in coin of gold.
He'll chop and slice you,
Gut and dice you,
Eat you up whole.
Eat you whole.":
Herian had always liked this one, it was always fun to see Witchers from the monster's perspective. One song about monsters, one about Witchers.
The wood creaked out its own response, the wind played in her hair. She smiled, and the Weirwood came into view, and with it Eddard and Robert, both looking at her.
"Oh uh, sorry. I shall come back later then." She turned on her heel and started to leave.
Eddard reached out. "No, it's alright, we're done. What are you doing here? If you don't mind me asking, you don't usually roam here."
Herian made her way over, the frosted ground crunching underfoot. "Well your Gods have seen fit to try and all talk to me at once." She rubbed her temple in memory. "I figured, I'd take a guess and try and introduce myself properly. Maybe then they would let up."
"You can talk to the Old Gods?" Neds brow rose.
"Ha, no. But they won't let me gather magic from the area. It's like what I do take burns, I can't use it and the longer I try to gather the more voices I hear." She walked around the two men to stand under the Weirwood.
The Witcher pulled a glove off and just brushed her fingertips to the white wood.
Pain raced up her arm like a thousand tiny needles. The elf gave a high pitched yelp and jumped back.
Eddard moved swiftly to her side, his cloak sweeping around him. He came up behind her and steading her by her shoulders. "What happened?"
"I want to say it bit me. But I don't think that would begin to describe it." Herian wiggled her fingers trying to regain the sensation.
Robert couldn't help it, he chuckled. "I never thought I'd would hear you yelp like that."
Herian glared at him, but felt a smile on her lips.
Ned took her hand and the pain faded, whether it was because he was warm or just someone else, she couldn't tell.
Her hand felt cold to the touch, like ice. He looked down when he felt Herian lookup. "What?"
"I have an idea." She stepped forward turned to him and pulled his glove off.
Ned allowed her to pull him to the Weirwood tree. With a step and her back to his front her hand in his, together they touched the tree.
Magic flared up Herian's arm, twisted inside her and settled, and yet it still didn't feel like magicka. It felt more euphoric, like it was caressing every inch of her body, exploring her.
Ned felt the elf shake and moan against him. Which ignited his lust, then a strange warm feeling was slowly making its way into him as well, travelling long forgotten paths. When the last door opened the felt the same pleasure, his free hand came around her waist and his fingers gripped her hip so hard she would have bruises.
When it became too much they both pulled away, eyes dilated with lust, hearts hammering.
"What in the name of the Old Gods, was that?" Eddard asked peeling himself away from her, though all he wanted to do was strip her and fuck like a wolf in the snow.
Had Robert not been there, Herian would have pounced Ned. "I have no idea, my best guess would be whatever, whoever your Old Gods are, was getting acquainted with us."
They stared at other, panting coiled ready to spring.
Robert looked between the two, thinking, "Well it's about time." The aloud he turned away and waved over his shoulder. "Enjoy yourselves." He chuckled when Herian's yelp reached his ears followed by the soft crunch of snow, that meant they hit the ground.
Herian wrapped her legs around the northman as he attacked her neck. Biting, nipping, kissing, relishing in every sound he pulled from the elf. Grinding his cock to her cunt. Hands made quick word of the cloak clasp, the elfs tunic was all but torn off.
Her eyes fluttered in pleasure and she responded with the same fevered action. She raised up to kiss her Thane, though that title would soon no longer be relevant. Their lips parted and Ned slid his tongue over hers, he forced her back to the ground and used an arm to support his weight while the other cupped a full breast.
Her nipple was hard and sensitive in the cool air, each swipe of his thumb caused a small moan.
Herian in the back of her mind to could the lay lines flare, the magic pulsing through them.
Eddard lowered himself and attacked her left breast as it was yet untouched.
Her cry echoed through the wood as his hot mouth descended, he nipped the delicate flesh, pressed his tongue to the hard point and flicked it back and forth gently.
The elf writhed beneath him, bucking her hips to his, one hand in his hair the other gripping his shoulder for all her worth.
Ned sucked harder on the sensitive flesh, drew his tongue slowly over while massaging her other breast. Testing, teasing, the cool in in contrast with his warm hand and mouth sent Herian reeling.
"You okay?" Ned moved back up her, kissing and biting her neck through his question.
Herian slide her hand out of his hair, ran a finger under his jaw and pulled him gently up to kiss her again, slowly with that heat growing underneath. Taking the time to gather just enough of her thoughts. "Yes, more." she nipped his lip, catching it carefully between her teeth, he growled. "Fuck me." She whispered.
Eddard did not need to be told twice, he rose back slightly, then attacked her breeches, again nearly ripping them in the process. His mind called up some of the information from Harimand letter, this wasn't Catylen, he wasn't about to treat her the same way. He undid the lacing from on his breeches and pulled his cock free. Shivering when the cold air hit it. "Turn over."
Herian shivered though not from cold, and braced herself raising her hips up with her knees, forearms flat to the ground, back arched slightly, all to present herself to him.
With a hand Eddard guided himself to her, then slowly pushed forward wrapping both hands around her hips. It was perfect, soft, hot, with just that right amount of resistance slowly giving way to his might.
Herian was in heaven, he felt strong and powerful behind her, his weight, height, all of it focused on her. His cock felt perfect, sliding slowly into her, her own juices helping him push deeper, fill her more. She shut her eyes and pushed back against him as best she could, but the braced position allowed for very little input on her part.
Ned gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her flush to him sharply.
The elf cried loudly out, her voice echoing around through the Godswood, though with how he was pressed up against that most pleasurable place. She couldn't find it in herself to care who heard.
The northman leaned forward wrapping an arm around her hips, but coming parallel to her to kissing her neck, his breath audible in her ear.
Herian let out a pleased sigh when his bulk covered her, his cloak hiding the two of them from the wind. The heat of his chest, warming her, his free hand came down to braced himself next her hers. In relax she contracted her cunts walls around him, fluttering her muscles.
Ned jerked his hips sharply in response, a bit her neck again.
She stilled at the combined actions, she was fast loving it when he bit her, it all felt so good it was more than a little overwhelming. Her inner muscles were protesting against the intrusion, a slight ache though them.
"You need a minute." Ned rumbled in her ear. That was something Harimands letter hadn't needed to outline, woman need a little time after that first blissful stroke.
Herian didn't want to wait a minute, the stretch and soreness could go to Oblivion. She let out a small whine and clenched her muscles again.
Eddard let out a sharp intake of breath and growled. "Fine." Slowly he withdrew part way then slammed forward, all his strength and mass behind it. Then did it again and again, building a slow pounding rhythm. He had to dig his free hand into the snow to ground himself, the shear pleasure was consuming. She was growing wetter around him, taking all he threw at her, the slap of her breasts together as the force traveled through her. His hand moved from her waist to tightly grip a breast, just feeling its heft and texture.
The elf cried out with every empowered thrust, she had to use all her strength to keep from being driven down to the forest floor. Sharp shocks of pleasure, tried to turn her to mush. The walls of her cunt contracting and releasing in time with his strokes. That ache of penetration gave way to one of pleasure, that endless earning for more. A fire that could only be fed.
Ned kissed her slender column of her neck, her long red locks, soft against his cheek, he watched her hands franticly grip her cloak. Her loud crying moans, the sweetest music he had ever heard. His pace was just right, setting her alight, the sounds of their joining grew to a wet slap. He kneaded her breast, forcefully, just to hear the her groan louder.
He grew back slightly and smiled when she gave a shuddering moan at the loss of him at her back. He ran his hands down her back slowly, fingers splayed wide, tracing the hard tense muscles, his thumbs down her spine.
Herian moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed at the long smooth pet.
Neds hands settled back on her hips, to grip in that same bruising strength. He slowly guided her forward while withdrawing. Then slammed forward pulling her back to met him, again, and again, deep laboured breaths as he fought his pleasure for the sake of hers.
Her eyes widened and all she could do was pant, try to keep air in her lungs. It almost hurt, the angle, she was sure there was no more room for him. He was hitting things deep within that fingers could never. Faster he moved before setting on a punishing pace, that filled her, pushed her farther down into that abyss.
Eddard looked down to her, watched his cock posses her over and over, that sight alone was almost too much.
Herian came undone all at once, she came with a cry and crumbled to the ground as her arms gave way. The pleasure was near blinding, and it raced up her spine, to consume her.
Her muscles gave one last flutter around Ned, and he let go, pulling her to him one last time, before releasing his seed. He leaned back down over her and pulled them both to the ground on his side, refusing to leave her warmth for the time being.
Eddard drew his cloak over them and nuzzled his face into her soft hair, the braid had long since fallen apart. He grew great breaths, his free arm wrapped around her, a hand possessively over her stomach.
Herians brain was utter mush, all she wanted to do was sleep, his cock still hard felt different here, heavier, thicker. The elf drew her legs up slightly to give him better access should he want to go again.
He followed her action, curling around her, then pinning her legs under one of his.
They both focused on regaining their breath for several minutes. Ned stroking her belly lazily.
Herian purred at the sensation, and felt that ache for more slowly flicker back to life.
Neds eyes fell on the Weirwood tree, blush almost dusted his cheeks. "Never thought I would do this before the Gods."
The elf gave a small tried laugh. "It's not so strange, Sanguines sphere of influence is sex as well as other things. Partaking in the pleasures of the flesh is but one way to worship a God like him. Your Gods are old, I doubt this is the first time they have seen this." She wiggled her hips very slightly, trying to get comfy.
Neds hand snapped to her waist, "If you don't stop that, I will have you again." he growled in her ear with just that right kind of threat.
Herian bit her lip and smiled, that sounded rather wonderful. "If you do that, there will be no doubt what we've been up too."
Eddard chuckled, stroking her hip with a thumb. "With how you were screaming I don't think that will be a problem. Robert has probably already made some lewd comments to Rodrick or someone."
"Probably." Herian said with a smile. "You make me very glad I waited till I found someone I wanted."
"Waited?" Ned asked, she had no maiden head, but he hadn't really thought on it.
"I was till now, a maiden. Not that I really cared about it, I was just waiting for someone I liked." She explained it like it was nothing major.
Ned raised himself up to look her in the eye, a brow raised.
"What?" She asked confused.
Ned shook his head and chuckled. "You should have said something, I would have-"
"Been more gentle?" Herian reached up to caress his cheek, "That is not me, I am not some delicate flower that you have to be afraid of breaking. This was perfect, I would not wish for anything different." Her eyes flicked away as many things flittered through her mind. "At least not right now."
Ned smiled and leaned down to kiss her, long, slow soft kisses, conveying other feelings than lust, binding them.
The sun was setting and the temperature dipping.
"We sound go back inside." Ned said, the cold wasn't bothering him yet, but supper would be soon.
Herian sighed and kissed him one last time. "Alright."
Slowly he withdrew from her sheath and tucked himself away before the wind could taunt him.
Herian slowly sat up, her legs protesting loudly, particularly between them. She grew them up under and reached over to gather her clothing and boots, pulling her tunic on swiftly, but her underclothes and breeches slowly. When dressed, Eddard helped her to her feet.
"Ohhh." Herian pressed a hand to her womb.
Ned picked up her cloak and gave it a shake. "Sore?" Catelyn had always been sore, but then he had never fucked Cat like he just had Herian.
"A bit." She admitted, she was mildly surprised that she hadn't healed. Maybe her healing was selective to what was life threatening. Her hips were sore and she knew the walk back would be slow. Then she had the oddest feeling of their fluids leaking out of her, now she understood a benefit to small clothes.
Ned pursed his lips, then wrapped her cloak around her fastening it. With a smirk as her only warning he scooped her up carrying her bridal style.
"Hey!" Herian explained, looping her arms around his neck.
"You're light, I am not going to make you walk all the way back to the keep. Not when your soreness is my doing." He set off out of the Godswood, not sparing the Weirwood a glance.
Herian purred and kissed his cheek, loving the feeling of his beard against her chin. "Alright, I don't see any point in fighting you. But you put me down when we get closer, in case the whole keep doesn't know what we've been up too."
Ned smiled. "As you wish."
Herian snuggled into his embrace with another purr.
Short porn. :P Please review, don't forget about that contest for the 100th reviewer or the poll.