Disclaimer: Covers in fear underneath my bed, I'll try to lure him out for next chapter.
This chapter is NOT for those who are easily offended. So if you feel as if you've been told to fuck yourself and your whole family if someone mentions the word titties or 'little-willy' then this chapter will probably be like wiping your arse with sandpaper. SO any lemons will be marked at the beginning and end, so as to spare you dainty constitution, skip if necessary. Extra word of warning, the lemon will include incest by most modern standards, though I will remark that cousins having sex amongst the nobility was quite amused in the time period that the fic is set in (Many Royal families still do this to a degree)
Also mention of a spanking which some soft hearted people or SJW's can construe as child abuse, now on with the fic.
Winterfell:
Ned had 'just' taken the first bite out of his breakfast when his day took a turn for the worse as the horrified screech from his wife reached his ears. Willing to gamble a fortune that this had no doubt something to do with Jon, Ned considered for the briefest moment to finish his meal first, but, knowing that postponing the matter would not make things in any way better he sighed and shoved the plate away before walking in the direction of the sewing chambers where his wife's distraught sobs sounded from, and curiously Sansa's as well.
Steeling himself for a moment he opened the door. Cat was holding a letter in a shaking hand, trying her best to keep her sobs quiet while doing her best to comfort Sansa who had no shame with sobbing, and even Arya was suspiciously misty eyed and sniffling heavily. Maester Luwin was standing respectfully to the side with a grave expression on his face, while Septa Mordane looked scandalized and doing her best to shove the rest of the sewing group out of the room.
"What's wrong Cat?" Ned found himself asking as he was almost tackled by Sansa who threw her arms around his waist.
"A letter from King's Landing," those words caused a chill to go down Ned's back, surely this couldn't be about Jon could it? Such as it was, it was about Jon, just not the Jon he had in mind.
"Jon Arryn is dead, I know he was like a father to you," Cat said with a tremble in her voice, and only years of experience of receiving bad news; the deaths if his father brother and sister chiefly amongst them, and enough incidents about Jon to fill a book kept Ned on his feet, though he felt a stab of pain through his chest, 'yet more of his family dead,', "Your sister? And her boy?"
A heaving sob from Cat stopped Ned cold, 'gods be good, don't say that they are dead as well,' he thought.
"Ned…Lysa, Lysa was the one who killed Jon Arryn, she poisoned him, my own sister," she said, aghast and broken at the same time. "When Robert went to confront her she behaved like a madwoman and threw herself and her boy out through the window at the top of the Tower of the Hand."
Ned vaguely noticed that his feet buckled and sat down heavily, Sansa still clinging to him. "what," he wheezed.
"I know," Cat said. "I cannot fathom why she would do it. She seemed so happy after young Robert was finally born, and just, to throw it all away," she trailed off.
"We will mourn them at dinner tonight," Ned said comfortingly, while he would like to spit on Lysa's remains for what she had done, he also knew that regardless of everything Cat did love her, and young Robert had not deserved his cruel fate, so for Cat's sake, and the children of course who had exchanged several letter with Lysa and young Robert over the years and been told several tales about them, he would hold his opinions to himself and mourn his goodsister.
"My Lord," the voice of Ser Rodrik broke through their moment of grief as he knocked softly on the door.
"Come in," Ned said as he stood up, carefully extricating Sansa from around his waist.
"A message My Lord," Ser Rodrik said as he held out a small note. "They've captured a deserter."
Ned sighed, that was all he needed now to make his day worse, and he briefly spared a longing thought to the plate of fried eggs and sausages he had abandoned, 'I should have finished eating first,' he thought sadly. "Tell the lads to saddle their horses."
"Ned do you have to," Cat asked sadly.
Ned turned to his wife with a sad look, gods know he loved her, but she had never understood the North, even he, he admitted didn't know as much as he would like, owing to his long years spent with Jon Arryn in his childhood and teen years. "He swore an oath Cat," he said softly.
"Law is law My Lady," Rodrik chimed in.
"Tell Brandon he is coming too," Ned told Rodrik who nodded as he walked off.
"Ned," Cat hissed, "Seven years is far too young to see such things," she argued.
"He won't be a boy forever," Ned growled in return, and with how his day had been so far he was pleased that he had not raised his voice. Cat would never understand, and didn't want to understand their ways, why Ned had been a mere five years old the first time he had seen his father behead a man. "And Winter is Coming," he said ominously, repeating the words that his family had lived by for the eight thousand years.
"Can I come?" Arya asked eagerly and Ned tiredly ran a hand over his face as this set of his wife again. Too tired to do more than to try and be a voice of reason he was struck by painful memories at how much his youngest daughter reminded him of Jon's mother, so many similarities, from her looks, her cheeky demeanour, adventurous spirit, all the way to how she stamped her foot angrily to the floor while she was angry, to how she stomped off, muttering angrily to herself as her mother played the ultimate card of victory, 'I am your mother young Lady and you will go to you room this instant,' no matter how much Arya wanted to argue, she had nothing that could combat that particular move.
"Sometimes I worry about her," Cat said sadly while shooing Sansa away.
"She is just like my sister," Ned said with a sad chuckle.
"Let us hope not," Cat muttered, "We all know what happened to her," and Ned unconsciously winced again at that unexpected shot, reminding him not only of the painful memory of Lyanna's death, but of how he had lied to her only boy all his life.
"I will not let that happen," He said reassuringly.
Cat nodded gratefully and embraced him. "Hold me," she whispered.
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
Sandor Clegane felt dead on his feet as he stood in the great hall of Moat Cailin, waiting for his turn as Jon Stark held petitions for the men and women in his demesne. He had ridden hard after he told the little shit of a Prince to go fuck himself, so hard that he had nearly killed his horse as a matter of fact.
Telling the Prince and the Lannisters to go fuck themselves had not been the wisest decision of course, Tywin Lannister would no doubt want his head for that, but at the same time he had had enough of Tywin Fucking Lannister and his entire ill begotten family. Just the fact that Tywin had let Gregor live as long as he had, deliberately overlooking Gregor's numerous crimes over the years had more than earned Sandor's ire and hatred. To tell the truth Sandor had only stayed as long as he had since there didn't seem to be anything better out there. No one seemed to be willing to cross Gregor or Tywin, both whom would have wanted him dead if he had tried to serve someone else, that is until Jon Stark came to King's Landing.
When Sandor had first seen him when he was brought before King Robert after the 'Riot of the Wolf' as it had been known after, he had barely spared the young man any thought. When Stark had challenged Gregor to single combat he had just remarked to himself that he would be yet another fool to end up dead, and then the duel had started.
From that day until the day he died he would forever treasure the sight of Jon Stark slicing up his brother's back and slowly taking his time to snap each individual rib with a dull axe. The howls of mercy and agony was sweeter than any piece of music in the world. Jon Stark had earned his respect and gratitude that day, Sandor's burnt face and his murdered younger sister at Gregor's hands had been avenged, and when the little shitstain of a Prince had ordered Sandor to hunt Stark down and bring back his head Sandor knew he had a choice.
Sandor was a fairly average swordsman, slightly better than his brother, his and Gregor's distinct advantage had always been their prodigious strength, strength that had proved to count for nothing against Jon Stark who himself was clearly blessed with great strength, but the way the young Lord moved, the way he fought, it was clear the boy had tremendous skill and instincts to back up his strength, which told Sandor all he needed to know. To best Jon Stark he'd have to take him by surprise, and finish him quickly, otherwise he'd join his brother in death far sooner than he had planned. That Stark clearly hadn't given two shits about Gregor, the Queen and her family also proved to Sandor that he wouldn't be cowed by Tywin Lannister either.
So with those facts Sandor chose life in the North, provided Stark would accept him that is, rather than to follow the orders of the Prince to get himself killed.
"Thank you m'lord," the voice of Stark's petitioner brought Sandor out of his thoughts and he stepped up towards where Jon Stark sat with his wife at his left hand, and a great beast of a wolf at his right.
"And you Are?" he asked Sandor.
"Sandor Clegane, Lord Stark."
The mood in the room changed as guards tensed, hands finding the hilts of their swords, the direwolf bared her teeth at him with a low growl, while Stark's only reaction was a slight narrowing of the eyes. "The Hound, Gregor Clegane's younger brother I presume?"
Sandor nodded.
"And why have you come to my home with a sword at your side?"
Slowly Sandor drew the sword and tossed it at Jon Stark's feet. "I have come from King's Landing to swear it to you."
Snorts and gasps alike ran through the hall while Stark raised his eyebrows somewhat. "Look at me," Stark said with a low whispered that was heard by everyone and Sandor raised his eyes to meet Jon Stark's penetrating gaze and almost gulped.
Those eyes couldn't be natural. His normally dark eyes had a definite amber shite to them, almost like the wolf at his side, and Sandor almost felt as if he could 'see' the wildness in them. Cold and wild like the North itself, and he felt the skin of his neck prickle, as if it was caressed by something invisible.
"Tell me exactly why you would forsake all oaths to the Lannisters to serve me, I will know if you lie," Sandor didn't doubt it for a second.
"I have hated my brother and the Lannister's for most of my life. You killed my brother, allowing my Sister to finally rest in peace." Sandor paused for a moment before continuing. "After you left the Prince ordered me to hunt you down and bring him back your head…" Sandor paused while he waited for the shouts of outrage to die down. "I've had enough of that sadistic little bastard and his entire family. You killed my brother and you don't give a fuck about what Tywin Lannister thinks, for that you will always have my thanks and my respect."
"You cannot take him seriously My Lord," said one of the men who was seated at the high table with Stark and his wife, wearing a suit of fine dark red and rune embossed armour.
Jon Stark was silent for a second as he leaned back in his chair, and Sandor noticed that his eyes seemed normal again. "He speaks the truth Robar," Stark said as he held up a hand to silence any protesters. "Whether he will continue to do so remains to be seen."
Sandor let out a sigh of relief and then Jon Stark stood up and walked around the table to pick up Sandor's sword. He studied the large blade for a moment before he offered it hilt first, confused Sandor took hold of it.
"Do you swear Sandor Clegane, in the name of the Old Gods and the New, to serve me and House Stark faithfully in all things? To follow my commands? To defend me and my family with your life if necessary?"
Sandor nodded. "I do My Lord, I swear it on the Old Gods and the New."
"Then rise Sandor Clegane, in recognition of your oath of fealty I swear to you that you will always have meat and mead at my table, and that I will never knowingly give you a task that will bring you dishonour."
"Thank you My Lord," Sandor said as he stood up, sheathing his sword, and he was somewhat surprised to notice that while he was definitely taller than his new Lord he did not dwarf him as much as he thought he would, a bit more than half a head taller than him, Stark was a bigger man than most it seemed, though it may be that his height was never particularly noted since Stark seemed to have spent a lot of time with Lord Umber's oldest son, who was of a height with Sandor and a bit broader around the chest and shoulders.
As Stark walked back towards his chair to continue the petitions Sandor felt a moment of peace for once as he easily slipped into his normal position of five paces behind and half a step to the right of his new master, say what they will about him, but Sandor was a loyal beast, and knew his place, and anyone who wanted to test Lord Stark would have to contend with his blade along with Lord Stark's.
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
Robb:
Robb did his best to look stern and disappointed as he watched his father reprimand Arya, though he suspected that he failed to do so as Arya shot him a few impish grin while she tried her best to seem meek and apologetic in face of their father's anger, Bran at least had no such compuntions at all as he was sniggering openly at the sight.
It had been a somewhat morose day as Bran's archery lesson had been interrupted by Ser Rodrik who told them to saddle their horses in preparation for the execution of another deserter from the Night's Watch. The serious nature of their day was further compounded as they learned that their aunt Lysa and cousin Robert had both died, and that their uncle Jon Arryn was also dead at the very hands of their aunt Lysa.
So the mood as they rode out of Winterfell to the executioner's hill had been quite sombre, even Theon had the good sense of keeping silent, leaving each man to their thoughts. During the two hour long ride Robb had felt the skin on his neck prickle several times, as if someone was following them, yet regardless of how many times he looked back he couldn't spot anyone. Of course it turned out that he was right, as shortly after his father beheaded the deserter, who had seemed scared out of his wits and babbled about White Walkers, a horse had leaped out from the trees nearby, most likely spooked ad the sudden sound of a head getting chopped off and the shower of blood that followed, and he had barely restrained himself from breaking out into laughter as the rider of the horse had held on for dear life for a few moments before being thrown off, revealing the now ruffled form of his youngest sister, who at least had the grace to look tremendously guilty, no doubt due to the sheer astonishment evident on their father's face.
"Don't know what you were thinking," the voice of their father said for the umpteenth time.
"I wanted to see," Arya muttered guiltily.
"Arya Underfoot strikes again," Theon muttered beside him, finally cracking Robb's façade, though he hastily schooled his expression once his father turned his gimlet eyes accusingly at Robb.
"You can be assured Arya that this will have consequences, and you will tell your mother when we get back," father said, causing Arya, Robb and Bran to wince, Robb and Bran with sympathy, Arya with dread.
"I didn't mean to make you angry," Arya whispered despondently, the first signs of tears evident in her eyes.
Their father hugged her. "I know you didn't love," he said as he stroked her back. "But you are a noble Lady of a great House, it is not your place to witness executions," father said, bringing some fire back into Arya as she angrily stomped her foot.
"I'm not a Lady," she barked angrily, causing Theon to snort.
"Oh but you are," the Greyjoy mocked, "And one day you'll be married off to some Lord and birth his babes and spend your days sewing," he crowed with a grin that was shared by Robb, they all knew that Arya despised sewing, or anything that normal girls seemed to enjoy. She was far to similar to Jon that way, and had seemed to make it her life's goal to take over Jon's position of giving mother and father Grey hairs in his absence, not that Jon's absence still wasn't felt, Robb thought with a grin as Jon seemed quite capable of creating mayhem out of anything he touched, regardless of where in the world he was.
"NEVER!" Arya yelled as she tried to jump Theon, her hands stretched out like claws, and only father's quick actions at holding her back saved Theon from having his eyes clawed out, or his throat torn out from the way Arya was baring her teeth, more like a wolf than a young girl of nine Robb noted.
"Arya," their father sighed as he held her firmly.
"Never, I'll never marry or sit around doing nothing but sewing and popping out children," Arya snarled, "I'll sooner run off to Essos or the Wall."
If Robb was shocked at the venom in her tone their father seemed downright pain as he closed his eyes in pain and his voice was trembling as he consoled her. "I promise you Arya, you won't have to worry about that."
"Really?" she asked hopefully as she gave her father a full blast of her wide doe eyes and cherubic smile, causing Robb to shudder. Arya was mostly seen with an impish grin on her face, no doubt the result of something or other that she had done, or was planning to do. But when she really wanted to she could use her wide round eyes and angelic face to melt the heart and resistance of most people in Winterfell, only mother, father and to a degree Jon, seemed to be immune to its effect. Probably since they all knew her far too well, and Robb suspected that Jon shared a good deal of the responsibility for teaching Arya that particular look, Jon was the one who had perfected it while Robb and Jon were still little innocent tykes…well Robb at the very least, he doubted that Jon had ever been truly innocent, too much of the wolf blood in him.
"We'll speak more of this later," Father said, causing Arya to wipe her, no doubt fake tears and give them a beaming smile. "But don't think for one minute that this means you won't be punished for today," father said, causing Arya's smile to stiffen a bit.
"Well done little sister," Robb whispered to Arya as he ruffled her hair, ignoring her protested 'Hey, stop that.'
"Mount up," Father said as he returned Ice into the wolf pelt sheath before mounting his horse. "Arya you'll ride with Robb."
"Ow," Arya muttered as Robb lifted her up and placed her in front of him.
"What is it now Arya?" he asked her.
"I think I broke my bum when I fell from that horse," she said before glaring around, no doubt trying to find the horse that had wisely bolted away to who knows where.
"Serves you right," Robb said with a chuckle. "Perhaps next time you won't fall of your horse."
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
Ned:
Cat's reaction to Arya amongst their number had first been relief at seeing her, having first thought that Arya had run south to find Jon, only to turn to fury once she heard that Arya had snuck away to witness the execution. The following hour had been a hassle as Ned not only had to be strict with his youngest daughter, but also try his best to keep Cat from being unnecessarily harsh with her, though he would support Cat's final decision on Arya's punishment, he and Cat having agreed long ago that he would take charge of the boys while Cat would have the final say when it came to the girls punishment, though thankfully Sansa was at least sensible enough to not raise their ire too much, her only infractions being badgering the kitchen staff to make her lemon cakes that she often smuggled into her room.
Said punishment eventually ended up with Arya receiving ten licks of the switch to her behind, and while Ned hated to do it, he would rather give his rebellious daughter a few whacks to the rump rather than send her south to become a Septa which had been Cat's first choice until Ned calmed her somewhat, so he counted that one as a victory. Arya had sent been sent to her rooms without supper to lick her wounds, figuratively that is.
"I've come to my wits end with that girl," Cat raged as she paced in their solar, Ned following her movements with a fond grin. "Don't smile at me like that," she snapped causing him to chuckle. "She is completely uncivilized, why couldn't she be more like Sansa," Cat despaired.
"Cat," Ned said softly. "Arya is and always will be her own woman, there too much of the wolf blood in her for her to be anything else."
"I know," Cat huffed.
"Perhaps we should consider a different strategy with Arya," Ned voiced slowly.
"What do you mean?" she asked as she looked at him.
"Well…" he searched for the right words, this would require every bit of his diplomacy. "Yours and Septa Mordane's way clearly isn't working, the more you push the more Arya dig her feet in."
"Clearly," Cat replied drily.
"She is old enough to foster," Ned continued. "And if there is anyone who can not only appeal to, but also tame her it is Jon and Alys."
"What?" She hissed. "He would probably encourage her," she protested.
Ned shook her head. "If anything Jon has calmed down somewhat the last year or two…for the most part," he said hurriedly. "And with Alys' help perhaps the pair of them can manage her somewhat, besides I do believe Arya misses Jon," he was wearing her down he knew it. "Besides, imagine what a few years of peace and quiet we will have if we unleash her on Jon instead."
"I…I don't know Ned, she only has a few more years before she becomes a young woman, and ready to wed," Cat said, and Ned sighed. He knew that Cat wished for glamorous southern marriages, away from the North for both of their girls, Sansa would definitely have one he knew, but she was still adamant for Arya to have one too.
"I just don't want her to…" he trailed off, the memories of Lyanna and her fate a painful reminder, and with how Arya had acted earlier he feared the same thing happening.
"Don't want her to what...Ned?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry at his pained whisper, and Ned decided to share at least some of the truth.
"Lyanna…she wasn't kidnapped," he said, causing Cat to look at him questioningly.
"She tried for almost a year to convince father, Branden, myself and Benjen to break the betrothal between her and Robert. As the date for her wedding drew nearer she must have had enough, and she ran off."
"But Rhaegar," Cat started.
"He and Lyanna got to know one another during the Tourney of Harrenhal, well enough that both of them fell head over heels for one another, to the point that they forgot all sensibilities and ran off without so much as a by your leave."
Cat gasped.
"The result of their actions broke her Cat, father and Brandon dead, and her great love dead at the hands of her jealous betrothed, that and the fate of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon…she just…lost all hope I think."
"You told me she died of a fever," Cat accused.
Ned shook his head. "When we found her she had just given birth," he said, and Cat fell weakly into a chair, holding a hand to her chest.
"And…the babe?" she asked with a whisper.
"A girl…stillborn," he said, his voice as cold as the Winter in their House words. "Her daughter dying before she could name her must have been the last straw I think," he said. "She just didn't have anything left to live for." It truly hurt, to add even more lies as he tried to tell her some of the truth, but he couldn't he just couldn't let anyone suspect that Lyanna's babe wasn't dead, the he was actually living as a full out Lord in the North.
"Does Robert know?" she asked.
"No…I hadn't the heart to tell him," he said with a mournful sigh.
"You fear Arya will do something similar then?" she asked softly, taking his hand comfortingly into her own.
He nodded. "You didn't see her today Cat, Theon merely japed about her one day being wed and spending her life sewing. She almost assaulted him," Ned said with a fond chuckle. "She reminded me so much of Lyanna, she was just the same, getting ever more desperate and stubborn in her vehement denials until she ran off. Perhaps if we had listened…" he trailed off.
"Oh Ned," Cat kissed him softly. "If…if you think it best, perhaps we can have her stay with Jon and Alys for a time, see how it goes."
Ned restrained himself from crowing in victory, 'disaster averted,' he thought. "I'll write a letter to Jon tomorrow, though I suggest we keep Arya in the mum for now, I don't want her to think that her actions today deserves a reward," he said, causing Cat to laugh.
"Lord Stark, Lord Stark," Luwin and Rodrik both broke into his solar in haste, worry plain on both their faces.
"What is it?" Ned asked, now alert and ready for bad news.
"A raven from Lord Frey," Luwin said as he held out the opened letter.
Many might find it insulting if a Maester was to read their correspondence, but Ned never found anything bad from it, rather he was grateful when Luwin accepted his offer of being allowed to read any letters to him, a wise man, and Ned valued any advice he could share. "Bad news he asked Luwin."
"According to Lord Frey a Dornish host of three thousand rode by the Twins a mere two days ago."
"What?" He almost bellowed, "What on earth could…" he started before realizing what could cause a Dornish host to move to the North. "Jon," he growled. TO tell the truth Ned had thought the Dornish would be thankful that Jon had killed Clegane, the rest of the Realm certainly was, with the exception of the Lannisters, he had never thought their bloodlust so great that they would send a host towards the one who killed Clegane before any of them could.
"Lord Stark, a raven from Jon," Vayon Poole, their steward said as he came walking in, "it arrived shortly after Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik left in all haste."
Ned took the unopened little scroll, prepared for the worst kind of news (barring Jon's death), only to vicously restrain the urge to slam his head into his desk.
"Lord Stark?" Rodrik questioned.
Ned cleared his throat as he started to read.
Dear uncle, you'll be pleased to note that I have now returned to the North after my somewhat…disastrous trip to King's Landing. If it helps I never intended to cause trouble, That caused unbelieving snorts from all of them. Anyway as I wrote, I have returned North, a fair bit richer on coin than I was, and Winter has whelped, we know have seven direwolves, not just one.
On other news, I thought I should let you know that I've accepted Sandor Clegane into my service in thanks for his information. The others in the room shared looks of disbelief. Apparently, Prince Joffrey ordered him to find me and bring back my head, just the head mind you, nothing attached, and before you decide to ask, I know the he wasn't lying.
Lastly, and the main reason I am sending this letter, is that it seems that half of Dorne has decided to show up to thank me for my little jaunt to the capital, so if you should suddenly wonder why there are a few thousand Dornishmen at the Moat you'll know that they are there to celebrate, and if I might say so, I've been provided with enough gifts that I could drink wine for years on end.
Signed:
Jon Stark
Lord of Moat Cailin
Silence reigned for the briefest moment before Ned and Cat both yelled, "JON!"
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
Jon:
Jon and Alys had just finished breaking their fast when the door to the hall burst open revealing an out of breath Edd who was still acting as Castellan, a position he intended to hold for a few more years at least, due to a desire to see his young nephew to grow up and also to claim the position of favourite uncle. "Jon, Alys, you better come," he told them, causing Jon and Alys to share a brief look of bafflement.
"What's about Edd?" he asked as he hefted Lyarra into his arms while Alys did the same with Torrhen, Robar and Sandor following behind at a respectable distance.
"I don't quite know what it is Jon," Edd said as they entered the courtyard where one wagon after another showed up, all of them loaded to the hilt.
"My Lord Stark," a man who was even more corpulent than King Robert and Lord Wyman bowed as much as his big belly allowed. His forked beard was stained with grease and held half a dozen gold rings in it.
Jon returned the bow with a short nod of his head. "I am he," he said. "And might I enquire as to why you are here master…" he finished, fishing for the name of the large man.
"Illyrio Mopatis, Magister Illyrio Mopatis, of Pentos."
Jon felt his eyebrows go up to his hairline, 'what on earth would bring a Pentoshi Magister here of all places?' "You honour me by visiting my home Magister, food, drink and shelter will be given should you desire it."
"A hundred thanks Lord Stark," Illyria said with another short bow. "Alas I am short on time as I have a wedding to arrange shortly, but when I heard of your heroic deed myself and a few friends whom wishes to retain their anonymity decided to offer you a few gifts," The magister said as he gestured to each of the wagons with extravagant gestures as the drivers of the carts started to unveil them one by one.
"Glass, carpets and tapestries from Myr, Steel and furnishing from Qohor, wines white and red from Lys, fabulous fireworks from Yi-Ti, exotic fruits from all over and a chest full of gold, all given generously from grateful men and women as thanks for ridding the world of such a monster as Gregor Clegane."
Jon felt weak in his knees. Not from receiving gifts, he had already received dozens of ravens, primarily from the Reach and the Lords of the Narrow Sea, offering gifts and thanks, such as Lord Randyll Tarly who informed him that he was gifting him with ten wagons of grain and an offer to purchase more come winter at a reduced price, to Lord Monford Velaryon who gifted him with three galleys from his own small fleet, but this amount, the chest of gold alone was even bigger than the one he had won in King's Landing.
"You have my most heartfelt gratitude for this Magister, should you or any acquaintance of yours need food or shelter you need but to ask and I shall grant it."
Illyrio bowed again. "Many Thanks Lord Stark, as for the carts and the oxen pulling them, you may keep them. I should love to stay longer, but as I said, I have a wedding to arrange."
"Of course," Jon said. "Do you require horses to return? I assume you docked in White Harbour."
"No transportation necessary," Illyrio said. "There is room for us in the last carriage, and we have good tents to sleep in on the road," looking at the large man and his guards who didn't seem small either, Jon felt a pang of sympathy for the oxen pulling the last wagon.
"Then I wish you good fortune on the road."
Illyrio and his servants disappeared soon enough, leaving Jon and the rest to inspect the various inventory in the carts, while servants started to cart it all off to be stored properly. He suspected that Alys would start in with the furniture first, exceptionally carved, elegantly stitched upholstery of the finest fabrics, at the very least they wouldn't have to use any of the gold Jon had won in King's Landing for decorations if he went by the look of glee in his wife's eyes, there was more than enough here, and of a much finer quality than they already had.
"GET DOWN!" Gendry yelled all of a sudden, and Jon ducked just in time for a howling, burning stick to fly over his head, veering slightly upwards before it detonated with a tremendous bang in a kaleidoscope of coloured sparks, sending several horses and the oxen into a frenzied panic, and Jon counted himself lucky that the beasts in question had already been locked up, so the calmed quickly enough.
Calming his panicked daughter with soft words he turned towards Gendry with a look of absolute fury on his face, only to see Gendry was far ahead of him. Gendry was already boxing in the ears of his younger brother who had arrived with a pair of Stormlanders the day before, said boy was wearing a look of abject shock on his soot stained face, the torch he had used to ignite the firework laid forgotten on the ground beside him.
"No need to worry Jon," Gendry said as he seized his little brother by the air. "I'll set him straight," he finished as he started to walk away with Edric, the aforementioned Edric offering a continuous stream of apologies, broken off by scattered yelps, or pleas of mercy for the sake of his ear that was trapped in his older brother's iron grip.
"I know that look," Smalljon 'Stagsbane' Umber said as he glanced at Jon. "Means you have an idea, and that someone else will want to murder that lad if they ever find out that he is the reason for it," he said with a laugh, bringing forth accompanying sniggers from their closest friends.
"Hmm," Jon said thoughtfully. "I'll have to speak with Gendry first, but yes, I think this will become very handy."
"My Lord?" Rolland asked curiously, the young Maester reminded Jon a bit about his younger sister…cousin, Arya with his curiosity, and appreciation for bad jokes.
"I want you to try and get more of this stuff Rolland," Jon said. "We know it comes from Yi-Ti, so start with that, while we wait for a proper reply I'll permit you to take half of it."
A look of glee came across Rolland's face as he rubbed his hands, while his mind probably conjured up one idea after the other for fun things he could do with them. "To do what with My Lord?" he asked.
Jon shrugged slightly. "I noticed that they tend to have a mind of their own as they fly, see if you can't come up with a way to make them fly relatively straight."
Rolland's eyes shimmered, as if Jon had offered him a thousand dragons. "I will gladly start to work on this at once My Lord, as soon as I've drafted a letter and sent it on its way."
"Good," Jon said with a smile before remembering. "One thing Rolland," he said as he held up a warning finger. "If you wake me or my children up with these contraptions during the night or the morning I'll be very displeased."
"Of course My Lord, Of Course," Rolland yelled as he hurried away from them, "No setting them off during the night or early morning."
Bemused, he saw the door to the keep slam shut as Rolland hurried up to his library, no doubt to draft the letter at once. "Somehow I feel as I've brought on a sudden and terrible change upon the world," Jon said with a slight hint of worry in his voice.
Looking at Alys who had merely raised one of her elegant eyebrows in question, Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Nevermind."
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
It had taken Rolland, Gendry and Edric who was Gendry's apprentice no more than six days, three ruined sets of clothes, fourty nine different noise complaints, eleven threats of murder, five incidents of burn treatment and one burned down house, but they had managed it.
"See out there Lord Stark?" Rolland questioned as he pointed out to a spot in the swamp where three floating platforms held a practice target each that was normally used for arrow practice. About a hundred yards away and spaced thirty feet apart.
"I see it," Jon said angrily. He, Edd, Sandor, Stagsbane (who was still hiding away in the hope of avoiding marriage proposals), Robar and Halys his guard captain had all been dragged out of their sleep and out to the lower battlements far too early in his opinion, and he already longed back to the bed where Alys slept, her sole reply to Jon asking her to come to had been a 'fuck off, I'm sleeping.'
"Well, it took some time and a few accidents," Rolland said, ignoring the snorts of contempt or disbelief with practiced ease, "but we've worked out the kinks I think," he finished with a grin, gingerly holding up one of the fireworks with a heavily bandaged hand that concealed the numerous burns he had acquired during his experimentation.
The firework looked much like it had done when they received it. A round conical shape with a pointed tip, a bit thinner than Jon's closed fist, attached to a yard long stick the thickness of an arrow. The only modification that Jon could see was a slightly longer fuse and two pairs of four triangular 'wings', one on the firework itself and one at the end of the stick.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Stagsbane snarked, he looked to be just as tired as the rest of them were.
Gendry who was the strongest of the three hefted a steel pipe with a curiously attached small circle on the side as well as a handle to hold it over his shoulder. Edric took one of the fireworks and placed it into the pipe from the back and ignited the fuse before pushing it all the way in, with a tap to his elder brother's shoulder he stepped away as Gendry shifted the pipe towards the three targets until with a sudden squeal the firework flew off in a mostly straight line with a tail of smoke and sparks behind it. It was clear that they had done this a few times as the firework detonated less than five yards from the centre target in a conflagration of red sparks and flames.
"Slap me thrice and hand me to me mumma," Stagsbane uttered his favourite saying while Jon felt a grin steal across his face.
"We've experimented a bit, but found that one hundred to a hundred and twenty yards worked best with the fuse and still be accurate enough. Just use the small iron target on the side here, and you'll most likely hit as close to if not directly at what you aim inside of that range," Rolland said before he started cackling, joined quickly by Jon.
"Ye two scare me sometimes ye know that?" the Umber heir said with a deadpan.
"This is excellent, Gendry, I want more of these and Rolland, get me more fireworks, we certainly have the coin."
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
Later that day:
Jon got a dangerous tick in his eye as Edd stormed in, again, while Jon and Alys were eating, and he prayed to the Old Gods that Edd would not make a habit out of this. "What is it this time?" Jon asked in a flat voice.
"Thousands…of…people…are…coming…from…the…south," Edd wheezed. "Dozens of carts with them."
"For fucks sake," Jon grumbled. While all the gifts and praise he got after killing Clegane this was getting ridiculous, not to mention everyone seemed to agree that arriving together in a bloody horde was the best way, and it certainly was, the best way that is, at least if they wanted to get on Jon's rapidly fraying nerves, and Jon had started to feel a small amount of kinship with his uncle for all the grief he must have caused him over the years.
"Better get on with it," Alys sighed as she stood.
Jon nodded and they swiftly climbed the stairs until they got to the top of the keep where Jon trained his new spyglass that he had received from Magister Illyrio towards the south. "Fuck me," he whispered as he spotted one banner after another, the men and women underneath the banners dressed in rich, brightly coloured clothing, and all of them wearing thick heavy furs while shivering slightly, while the majority of the people were on foot, their clothes far from as ostentatious but still colourful and most of them gazed wide eyed at the ancient stronghold that was creeping ever nearer to completely rebuilt.
"What is it?" Edd asked as he tried in vain to nab Alys' own glass from her to take a look.
"I spot no less than fifteen different Dornish Houses, including the Martell sun and spear," Jon said, causing Edd to swear loudly.
"I'll get right on it," he muttered as he almost flew back into the keep and Jon and Alys shared a chuckle when they heard him yell loudly for the cooks.
Taking their time Jon and Alys both changed their clothes into some of their more finer sets, though Jon still wore his knee length brigandine, one never knew when having some armour on could come in handy after all, and with a last look around their solar they headed down, pausing only for a brief moment to pick collect Jon's newest piece of utility/ornamentation.
They arrived just in the nick of time it appeared as they had just taken their seats when the doors opened and a stream of salty dornismen (and women) marched in, all of them looking around curiously. One by one they came before Jon and Alys and thanked them for killing Clegane, most of them leaving a gift of one kind or the other before stepping back to let the next one come forth.
This continued for hours. Hours which made Jon more and more uncomfortable, and worried for his health, while Alys grew ever more aggravated. He had been proposition by no less than sixty three women who stated right ought that they wanted his children, most of them also offering to have Alys join them, causing both Alys and Jon to grow increasingly redder in the face. The women had also unanimously agreed it seemed to shed their furs in the entrance hall and wear their most revealing outfits that they had in their wardrobe, some of the silk outfits so thin that they didn't hide anything to the point of the cold (or arousal) Jon could count the individual bumps on their nipples, and also made the fascinating discovery that most Dornish women liked to have as little hair as possible 'down there' and made himself a mental note to carefully broach the subject with Alys.
When the vast majority who were apparently smallfolk were done, almost all of them offering a small gift of some kind and cheering loudly when seeing the skull of Clegane were done the nobles started to arrive, Jon later learned that he nobility had decided to let the smallfolk have their joy first and taken the opportunity to explore the fortress and small city around it.
Representatives from House Uller, Yronwood, Dayne, Lemonwood, Blackmount, Dryland, Drinkwater, Gargalen, Holt, Lake, Quorgyle, Vaith, Wyl and Santagar all bore gifts, various Donrish outfits in bright colours, though made from cotton or wool rather than silk, gold, wines of all different sort or grain and potatoes, the last two showed that Dornish apparently understood what northerners appreciated best, until only House Nymeros Martell was left.
At the head of the Martells stood a man that could only be the Red Viper of Dorne himself. Accompanying Prince Oberyn was four girls of varying age, six older ones, ranging from young woman to women grown, five of the six devastatingly beautiful while a last woman who was clearly Prince Oberyn's lover was just as pleasing to the eye as the others, and Jon gulped as four pair of eyes looked at him with undisguised lust, including to his shock Prince Oberyn, and Jon suddenly felt hot beneath his collar as he tried to avoid being unnerved by the glances, the women in particular seemed to have fine-tuned their hungry gazes into a tool of devastating efficiency, and Jon felt his cock ache harder than it had done all day as he took in the attractive forms.
Smooth delicious skin of varying colour, lustrous hair ranging from platinum blonde to coal black, the only thing they all seemed to have in common with the exception of Oberyn's lover was their dark blue eyes.
"Prince Oberyn," Jon started. "I welcome you to my home and offer you my bread and salt," and with that one of the kitchen serfs stepped up with a plate of bread and salt, 'gods know how many plates it has been today,' Jon thought.
After taking a portion each Oberyn spoke. "I have come in person to thank you on behalf of my family for avenging Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys by killing Tywin's mad dog Clegane, I naturally bring with me gifts," Oberyn spoke with the curious drawl of the Dornish accent.
"As I have said more times than I can count today," Jon said with a grin. "Killing Clegane was my pleasure, and can only offer my sympathies for your loss so long ago, no woman or child deserved such a fate."
Oberyn nodded sadly. "Let me introduce everyone. First my niece, Princess Arianne."
Arianne Martell was as dangerously beautiful as the others, long flowing raven locks, mouth-watering legs and hips, and a large bosom that made Jon's hands itch to grab them. "A true pleasure to meet you My Lord," Arianne spoke with a sultry whisper causing Alys to growl possessively, whole poor Jon obediently had to press a kiss to the back of the Princess' hand, and he barely kept his face cool as he felt Alys hand on his thigh grip warningly.
"My eldest daughters, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella," he continued. Obara the eldest, was the least attractive one of the lot with rat coloured hair and a relatively plain face that seemed to be unused to smiling, but smile she did while her eyes seemed to be at least somewhat appreciative of his looks. Nymeria was without question the most beautiful of the lot, surpassing everyone including her Princess cousin, with her light olive skin, long raven hair in a single intricate braid, ample chest, perfect figure and strong facial features that screamed nobility despite her bastard status. Tyene shared a lot of Nymeria's look, though her teats were a fair bit smaller, her loose silken hair, almost the colour Targaryen silvery white more than made up for it, while Sarella, the shortest of the lot had the darkest skin of them all, more resembling a summer islander than a Dornishwoman. And just like their seductress of a cousin the seemed to have no shame what so ever as the bent slightly to give Jon and Alys an eyeful down the loose robes, while offering their thanks with that same sultry tone that made Jon want to rip of their clothes and take them right there in the hall while fluttering their eyelashes at him, by this time ALys' grip on his thigh was becoming painful so hard was it.
"My younger daughters," Oberyn continued, barely keeping himself from laughing at Jon's obvious discomfort. "Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza." Oberyn's last four daughters were all were similar to each other, their shared parents eveident in their look, with Elia the oldest at about ten years or so to Loreza at the youngest looking about five or perhaps six from Jon's guess.
"And lastly my Paramour Ellaria," Oberyn said as his lover stepped forward and kissed both his cheeks, the same arousal he had seen in her step daughters and niece just as evident in her.
"Thank you brother," she said, causing Jon to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.
"You were born a Sand like me," she said. "So you and I have a thousand brothers and sisters in Dorne."
"I, ah thank you," Jon stuttered, trying his best to ignore the sniggers around him. "My Wife Alys, my son Torrhen and my daughter Lyarra," he said as he introduced them in turn.
"Lyarra Sand was it not?" Obara asked curiously, no doubt with his rapidly growing fame everyone know of 'Jon Stark's bastard daughter'.
"She is my daughter," he said sharply. "Her name is of no consequence."
The Dornish shared approving smiles amongst each other. "I…apologize if I offended," Obara said haltingly, no doubt she was not used to apologizing.
"There is one thing," Oberyn interrupted, "I have heard the bussing from all the smallfolk that they laid eyes on the skull of Gregor Clegane, but all of them refused to answer anything, just smirked at me and said they didn't want to ruin the surprise."
Jon grinned at the Dornish Prince. "You'll see, but first you must use the privy."
"No I don't," Prince Oberyn interjected, somewhat confused.
Jon stood up and laid an arm across Oberyn's shoulder, "No, no, I insist," he said as he coaxed Oberyn along through the room behind the great hall and down a corridor until they came to a trio of doors that each led into a small room where a wooden privy stood and Jon felt Oberyn stop suddenly.
There, just where the hole where you sat down over to do your business, nailed to the planks was the skin/face of Gregor Clegane. "Is…is that…?" Oberyn stammered.
"I find it very relaxing to piss on Clegane's face whenever I need to go, keeps reminding me that I killed the fucker as brutally as can be and got away with it with nothing but praise."
Oberyn laughed as if he had been told the greatest joke in the world, before to Jon's shock and panic he had grabbed Jon and kissed him straight on the mouth. Thankfully it was over before Jon do anything, shocked as he was and a sniggering Alys gently coaxed him back to reality with a far steamier kiss of her own which Jon did his best to enjoy, doing his best to block out the memory of Oberyn's tongue inside his mouth. Glaring at the back of the Dornisman Jon did his best to try and seem disapproving, a difficult feat considering how Oberyn was laughing and hollering as he pissed at the face of Clegane. His business done Oberyn turned back to Jon and the others with a grin.
"That, was one of the best experiences of my life," He said with a smile so wide it almost threatened to split his face in half.
"Then let me make it better," Jon said before placing a warning hand on the hilt of his axe, "but if you try and kiss me again, I swear by the Old Gods and the New that Prince or no, I'll split your head in two."
"I do so love it when people talk dirty," Oberyn japed to Ellaria who 'hmm'd' in obvious agreement, once again causing Jon to curse his cock that didn't seem to understand that there was only one woman Jon could fuck silly now.
Leading Oberyn back into the Hall where the majority of the Dornish nobles still waited, a few having gone to follow Oberyn's example to have a piss on Clegane's face. Motioning for Oberyn and his family to seat themselves on the other side of the high table, Jon waited until they were all seated before he took his own seat across from Oberyn. Opening a bottle of the finest Dornish Red Jon bent down and poured a generous helping before placing the goblet in front of Oberyn who blinked in surprise.
With Gendry's help he had managed to shear off the top of Clegane's skull and to make a fine coating of gold on the inside of the skull (after a thorough cleaning) so that no liquid would leak out. The base of the skull was fastened to a stem of black steel and the jaw itself had been wired shut to keep it in place. Taking a long deliberate sip from what he himself considered to be the most impressive drinking goblet in the world (there was none like it) he offered it to Oberyn with the skeletal face staring at the Dornish Prince with empty golden eyes. "Would you like to drink the finest wine from the skull of your most hated enemy?" Jon asked smugly.
"This…I think I might be in love," Oberyn japed breathlessly before he eagerly accepted the goblet and drank deep to the sound of victorious shouts from his fellow Dornishmen.
"While I will keep my goblet, I do still have the top of Clegane's skull, it could work as an acceptable plate or soup bowl I suppose, if it would be to your liking Prince Oberyn," Jon said suddenly, just barely ducking in time to avoid the spray of wine as Oberyn broke out in hysterics.
"Let no one tell you that you don't have style Jon Stark," Oberyn said when he calmed down somewhat, "and I would love to take you up on your offer."
Jon smirked, "I do try," he commented to Oberyn's first statement. "I'll have it ready for you by the time you leave."
Oberyn smiled.
"Now," Jon said suddenly as he stood up. "To celebrate this occasion I welcome you all to eat and drink your fill, the kitchens have been working hard for hours."
"HEAR HEAR," people yelled, while others chimed in with shouts of, "TO LORD STARK," or "THE BLOODY WOLF," even 'Mountain's Bane' or 'Fuck the Lannisters', though Jon could have gone without the shout of 'I want to have your children', though after recognizing the voice of the last one to shout that statement, Jon made a note to try and have Sansa spread the tale of the 'Stagsbane Damsel' as well as tales remarking on Smalljon Stagsbane's preferences for men and wishing he was a woman so he could have children.
The great hall was filled close to bursting with men, women and musicians, the tables were groaning under the weight of food of all different kinds, and though he got increasingly drunk, Jon did note that the Dornish seemed to take a particular delight in cooked rice with a spicy sauce after the first few braved a taste of the small white beads.
Judging from the cacophony outside, Jon surmised that the Dornish smallfolk and his own Northerners alike were having just as great a time as they had in the castle. He had already had word sent to everyone who ran an inn or similar that food and drink was to be offered for free, he himself would compensate them later. That Jon was drunk was no question, that his guests were just as drunk was no question either, as several strange agreements were struck. Jon himself found himself suddenly with a second squire in the form of Trystane Martell pending Prince Doran's approval, and was also richer one small and fully furnished manse in Sunspear at the price of four thousand dragons. Lord Anders Yronwood who had developed an unusual liking to the honeyed mead they served in the North had arranged for twenty full casks in return for half a dozen sand steeds from his personal stables.
Various groups of Northerners, Valemen and Dornismen formed all over, dedicated to who knows how many card games where even the most outrageous bets were allowed or even encouraged. Said games became a wellspring of japes, insults, bloodied lips or even crying, Stagsbane emotional sniffle when he lost his favoured axe to Obara Sand would stay with Jon for ages.
Eventually, though his memory of when or why exactly both Jon and Alys found it imperative to take both Princess Arianne and her cousin Nymeria to a guided trip around the castle, all the way down to the lower gates to the very top of the fortress, they didn't have to worry about alcohol either as the smallfolk who all cheered whenever they came across them helpfully plied them with wine, ale or mead.
"And this is our bedroom," Alys supplied helpfully as Jon made a grand sweeping gesture with his arms, causing three sets of hysterical cackles to spring forth as he tripped over his own feet and landed face first on the large bed.
"That's a large bed," Arianne whispered sultrily into Alys' ear and the next moment Jon's eyes widened and his cock got stood to immediate attention in his breeches as Arianne snuck her hand up Alys' back to her neck and brought their mouths together in the most arousing kiss Jon had ever seen.
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
LEMON WARNING! LEMON WARNING! LEMON WARNING!
Instead of pushing the Dornish Princess away or even slapping her Jon's wife surprised him moaning and grabbing hold of the Princess, quite eagerly kissing her, their tongues lapping at each other. As if driven by a frenzy Alys hurriedly started pawing and tearing at Arianne's clothes, trying to tear them off while Airanne giggled slightly as she slapped away Alys' grasping hands at each attempt, preferring to tease both Alys and Jon by slowly removing her garments. Jon's perving stopped abruptly as Nymeria seemed to come out from thin air to latch onto his mouth with her own lips, her greedy tongue swiftly wrestling his own into compliance, and Jon grunted in protest as she suddenly leaned back, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of them.
"Fuck, that was hot," Alys whispered, and Jon was forced to swallow loudly as he spotted the two ladies who were suddenly clad only in their nameday suits. That Arianne was a woman fully grown was obvious, both from her more defined curves and her fuller teats which were doing a delightful little jiggle in tandem with her heaving breaths. Sweeping has gaze lower Jon was instantly mesmerized by the thin fine strip of black hair that led to her lower lips. Turning his gaze back to his wife he was delightful to spot the smouldering look in her eyes and the visible red flush of arousal on her cheeks and heaving chest. As he did with Arianne his eyes slowly moved down and he was impressed as he often was at how quickly she had rid herself of any sign of her earlier pregnancy, the sole reminder being a few thin stretch marks on her sides that more than anything added to her appeal, 'you earned those stripes my love,' he thought before Nymeria latched onto him again.
This time Jon was prepared and was to one to break off the kiss, grinning in victory as Nymeria let out a protested moan while his lips went in search of the sweet spot on her neck that usually drove any woman wild, 'found it,' he thought smugly as he sucked slightly and felt Nymeria shiver while producing a whimper that went straight to his cock.
"FUCK!" he gasped as Nymeria turned the tables on him by forcing her hand into his breeches to grasp his cock in a firm grip, massaging it ever so slowly as she moved her hand up and down the shaft at a torturously slow pace.
He shuddered at the sudden sensation of a pair of lips attaching to both sides of his neck simultaneously, his wife and the Princess had apparently decided to join the party it seemed. He almost lost his balance as Nymeria suddenly detached her mouth from his and knelt, swiftly pulling his breeches and smallclothes down his legs while Alys and Arianne shared an impish smile that sent a spike of hot lust through him as they grabbed his shirt from each side and tore it off him, ripping it in two.
He never had the chance to protest as Arianne suddenly pushed him, sending him flat onto his back atop the bed, all three of the girls swiftly joined him. 'This can't be happening,' Jon thought as Arianne and Nymeria kissed and nibbled all over his chest, while Alys was nibbling on Nymeria's neck. Staring straight into Arianne's dark eyes Jon's heart missed a beat as Arianne's mouth engulfed his cock.
"Fuuuuuuck," he said with a drawn-out groan of pleasure. Her mouth felt like fire against his sensitive cock and Jon barely managed to keep his eyes open at the arousing sight. That Arianne had sucked a cock before became evident as Jon let out a scream of pleasure as she suddenly drew in a large breath through her nose and took him all the way to the hilt, burrowing her nose into the fine hair above his cock.
Turning his head to the side became his undoing. Lying flat on her back laid his wife, lapping her tongue through the lips of Nymeria's flower while Nymeria herself was bent over, reciprocating Alys' actions, the moans and lapping sounds made Jon's body tense up as he shot his seed down Arianne's throat. Far from unprepared the Dornish seductress raised her head to the point where only the head of his cock remained in her mouth and started to suck hard, causing him to let out an animalistic scream as his entire body seized up, his fists clutched in the furs on the bed as his cock pulsed with one shot after another until it was finally over and he could relax. That is until he saw Nymeria who had ceased her ministrations after having taught Alys the basics. The Dornish bastard sat with her legs spread across Alys' face, her eyes closed and arching her back to the point that it looked painful, her hands pinching and rubbing her nipples until she opened her eyes in an expression of ecstasy, an unrestrained squeal of pleasure signified her release as her entire body shook and twitched, until breathlessly she fell to the side.
Already Jon could feel his cock returning to its erect state, but as of yet his wife had yet to reached her peak, and he had wanted to taste her for hours now, so he wasted no time in drawing Alys atop of him so that she mirrored the position she'd had Nymeria in just mere moments before. Like a man dying from thirst Jon dove in, tongue first at her inviting flower, the pink lips glistening with a combination of her own juices and Nymeria's saliva.
"FUCK!" she screamed suddenly as Jon bit lightly at the small hood on top of her cunt, a spot he knew from lots of experience drove women mad. A few more licks and Jon got lightheaded as Alys clamped her thighs together around his head while she stiffened up as she finally got that release she had been denied by Nymeria. Gently laying her down beside him Jon's cock finally returned to full mast at the sight of Aryanne and Nymeria kissing each other as if it was going out of style, the sight of the pair of them swapping the remnants of his seed along with Alys' juices and their own saliva was far more arousing than it should have bin. Nymeria expertly stroking along her cousin's lips certainly didn't help to cool Jon down, and the two Dornish ladies barely had time to register his sudden recovery before he punched.
He gave Arianne just the briefest moment to stop him, her eager nod encouraging him on before sheathing his cock into her hot channel as deep as it could go. Having peaked once already, while Arianne had yet to reach her own Jon was at a distinct advantage and utilized every bit of his skill by setting a pace that shook the bed slightly as every hard thrust drove her into the furs beneath her. Arianne didn't last long at the pace he set, her moans quickly replaced by inane babble while at the same time her nails had decided to use Jon's back as a canvas, desperately clawing at his back, the slight pain of her nails drawing blood just spiking Jon's lust rather than diminishing it. Like her cousin she seemed to lose all control of her bodily functions as her form switched between seizing up painfully tight to all loose and trembling. Rather than stopping Jon increased the pace of his thrusting, prolonging her peak to the point that she almost begged for him to stop. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge he tried to extract himself only for the Dornish Princess to clamp her legs around his lower back, demanding him to finish the Job. Lost in pleasure Jon simply continued fucking her with hard fast thrusts, until he threw his head back and howled as he emptied himself inside her cunt, painting her insides white.
While the temptation to just collapse on top of the Princess was great he stayed in the position he had held when he fucked her. Outstretched trembling arms on either side of her heaving chest while doing his best to keep his cock from softening by making slow shallow thrusts in and out, each movement causing him to shudder.
Beside them it seemed that Alys had discovered a new side to her as she was quite literally holding Nymeria trapped. Her hands fisted painfully tight in Nymeria's raven locks as she moaned breathlessly as the Dornish woman lapped at her cunt with a frenzy, drinking in her lovely juices while playing her like a master musician would play his harp, and for the second time that night Jon got to see his wife come undone, the extasy that ravaged through Alys so great that when it was done Alys shakily drew herself back ever so slightly to try and recover.
"It is my turn now?" Nymeria asked as she stared at him hungrily, slowly teasing him as her tongue ran across her lips to lap up the remains of Alys' juices. Pushing Arianne away so that she laid beside Alys Jon trapped Nymeria by holding her arms to her sides. "Jon please," she begged as she tried in vain to struggle.
"You've been a bad girl," Jon mock scolded as he bit slowly at her earlobe, enjoying the power he held over her as she shuddered with want.
"No I haven't," she whispered in reply as she tried yet again to escape.
"Oh but you have my sweet," he said as he sucked at a point right beside her jugular, producing a keening moan. "You started a job but left it for me to finish," he continued as he pointed at Alys who was still breathing heavily, though from the smouldering look in her eyes she seemed to find it as exciting as Jon did. "I think I need to teach you to not leave a task halfway done," and then Nymeria let out a surprised squawk as Jon spun her around and forced her to her knees, pushing her face in between Arianne's legs. "Be a good girl and finish her up," he said before spreading her knees wider so that she was at the perfect height for him to slip his cock into her.
Despite having finished twice already, Jon had been in a state of near constant arousal all day and had more than enough stamina to keep going, but the tightness of Nymeria's channel, and how she expertly used her muscles to clamp down on him at every thrust, as well as the sight of Arianne with her head thrown back and calling Nymeria one dirty word after another, 'faster my little bitch,' was the most common words uttered as Nymeria lapped at her cunt and Alys attacking Arianne's nipples with her lips and teeth meant that Jon was totally unprepared for the sudden clenching in his balls as his pace became totally erratic as he pumped one shot of his seed after another into her, ironically the motion of withdrawing his cock from her after he was done was what sent Nymeria over the edge.
Falling sideways and then onto his back Jon almost wept when both Nymeria and Alys crawled over on either side of him and started to kiss and lick all over his sensitive cock, cooing encouragingly as it slowly but surely rose to the occasion yet again. As it was he had not yet fucked Alys so he turned his gaze onto her, only to be somewhat surprised when she declined. "Arianne has been an even badder girl than Nymeria," she said, causing Arianne to widen her eyes.
"No I haven't," Arianne denied, only to gasp in shock as Alys' hand smacked her left cheek. Spluttering in protest, the Dornish Princess was completely defenceless as her cousin joined in on punishing her by grabbing a sensitive nipple and pinching. "PLEASE!" Arianne shouted.
"You called a woman a bitch in my own bed," Alys snarled as she smacked Arianne's other cheek, while Jon could only watch in awe at how the two women turned the Dornish Princess into a shuddering pleading wreck.
"Please, no more, mercy, MERCY!" Arianne shouted.
As soon as Alys and Nymeria ceased their punishing the Dornish Priness surged forward to embrace Jon tightly. "Poor little Princess," Jon cooed at her. "Are the other two mean to you?" he asked, receiving a vigorous nod from her. Giving her a comforting smile he turned his gaze to Nymeria who was watching with interest. "So what do you have planned?" he asked her.
Nymeria turned thoughtful for a moment before she gave a grin that was far more like a shark than anything comforting. After briefly searching through the pile of garments on the floor she held up a small vial triumphantly and quickly returned to the bed where she blew a small kiss to her cousin, whose confused look turned to horrified realization just a moment too late as Nymeria had already pushed her face in between Alys' thighs so that she mirrored the position Jon had had Nymeria in moments prior. Taking her time Nymeria gently massaged the oil so that it coated Jon's cock before applying a fare more generous helping all over Arianne's rosebud, working first one finger than two into her rear, licking and biting her cousin's arse cheeks. Satisfied that her cousin was ready, she grasped Jon by the base of his cock and aimed it slowly towards her cousin's rear, the small opening softly expanding and then receding every second or so, and while Arianne was certainly busy with her tongue, her body was more than ready for what was about to come as he body trembled in anticipation.
"Fuuuuuck," Jon groaned as he slowly sank his cock into Arianne's arse. "Never…thought…I'd…bugger…a…Princess," he hitched out, each word spoken slowly as he softly drew his cock in and out. Every stroke felt like he was forcing himself forward, while her guts surely did their best to aid him when he withdrew.
He had never felt anything that hot or tight before. It was as if his cock was caught in a grip so tight that it felt like he was wearing a second skin A second skin that pulsed and massaged him like no other, every small contour if her arse was felt as it clamped down on his cock like nothing else, and the ring of her rosebud stretched tight around his cock was one of the most arousing things he had ever seen in his life. As her rear passage became accustomed to his size it slowly loosed the grip it had on him just enough for him to increase his in a slow but steady pace.
Despite his numerous sexual encounters over the years he had never buggered someone before, and he prayed to all the fucking Gods there was that Alys would be willing to try it out as he had never felt anything as good as what he was doing to Arianne right now. Speaking of Arianne, she had now surrendered completely. Her head was thrown back, her mouth opening and closing in a perfect 'O' shape every time Jon thrust his cock through her guts until she shuddered and screamed, finally reaching her second peak that night, the sudden sensation of her arse clamping down on Jon to the point that it was even tighter than when he started buggering her caused him to lose control as he railed her arse as best he could for three hard strokes before his entire body twitched and shuddered, sending five blasts of white cum into her rear as he experienced the strongest orgasm he had ever experienced with both Alys and Nymeria cooing at him as they stroked his back, Nymeria also softly massaging his balls as they twitched, trying to send more of his seed into Arianne. Collapsing on top of Arianne he just managed to avoid squashing her underneath him by turning onto his side and closed his eyes, falling asleep immediately, Arianne joining him with his slightly softening cock still trapped inside her, he never even noticed Alys cuddling into his back with Nymeria cuddling Alys in return.
LEMON OVER! LEMON OVER! LEMON OVER
*L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R *L*I*N*E*B*R*E*A*K*E*R
AN: Well that lemon certainly tuned out to be much longer than what I had in mind, I just couldn't get myself to stop. I also know that I promised you Robert and his company arriving as well as a certain bard showing up but like last chapter this one got away from me, as I was almost at 10k word by the time I reached the lemon so I was forced to split it yet again, 13k+ words is more than enough I think. :/
For those of you who requested/asked more about Robb or Arya I hope this chapter sated you for now, there will definitely be more Robb or Arya scenes soon enough.
Also a 'new' poll is up so take a look if you haven't voted on it yet.
As for the poll about what kind of army Jon would base his sellsword company in my other fic, Roman Legions won by an overwhelming majority with 44% with Greek Hoplites coming in at second with 22%
Lastly a thank to my new beta Tallman7. I'm posting this chapter now, but will repost it (along with my older chapters as soon as he has finished with them.
Read and review
Cheers
Manowarrior