The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 50
"My Lord! Breakfast!" the young servant called out for the fifth time. He was hesitant to enter the young Lord's tent without express permission. Still, he couldn't just leave his food outside. It would freeze solid in half an hour. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his side and slid through the tent flap, shoulder first. As he turned around, his heart jumped into his throat. The tray he carried slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. A loud bang of the metal tray hitting the ground was followed by the sound of pottery shattering as the clay bowl broke into a hundred pieces. The young servant took a step backward until he was leaning against the thick fabric of the tent wall. The scene before him would haunt his dreams for years to come.
Blood was everywhere. Droplets stained the walls and ceiling, and a massive pool was situated at the side of the bed. The bed itself was the stuff of nightmares. Not a speck of white was left on the usually clean, linen sheets. It was completely red and dripping with blood, like a battlefield tourniquet that had been discarded for a new one. The blanket was off to the side, shredded so that its goose-down feathers spilled across the bed and floor. They too were caked in blood. Tangled in his blood-soaked sheets was the mangled body of Garlan Tyrell, the former Lord's second son. His body was twisted and broken. His mouth was frozen agape with his final horror-filled scream. Eyes that once shown brightly were now wide open in shock and dread, faded and fishy, glossy and dead. His belly was split open like a hog being slaughtered. His entrails spilled out of his body and hung over the side of the bed where they formed a grotesque pile. Another organ, perhaps his liver, was resting next to his head, also torn and ripped. Garlan's neck was opened in a jagged tear, almost like he had been attacked by a rabid dog or a wolf. Unable to take being in there for another second, the servant left the tent and vomited his morning stew. His head was swimming, and his stomach was churning. Strangely enough, for a few moments, his mind was almost a total blank. It was a few minutes later when he snapped himself out of it and ran for help.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Randyll Tarly had seen more than his fair share of horrors in his storied life, but the sight of Garlan's disfigured body made him turn his head in disgust. "Mother have mercy," he said, barely keeping down his food.
"What could have done this?" one of his men behind him asked in shock. Outside the tent, he could hear at least two others retching and heaving.
"I've spoken to the night watchmen, My Lord. None of them heard screaming or anything out of the ordinary," another man spoke up.
Randyll rubbed his coarse hand over his face and sighed. Things were not going well for the Reach. Because of Mace's buffoonery, they were forced to pull the Reach's army all the way back to Tumbleton until Willas Tyrell formally took over as Lord of the Reach. What happened with the army after that was up to him. This would only complicate things further. Answers would be demanded, and he had none to give.
"MY LORD!" another voice shouted from outside. "SER LORAS … DEAD!"
This certainly captured Randyll's attention. He quickly pushed past his men and exited the tent. A wave of coldness struck his face, and the frosty grass crunched under the soles of his leather boots. He walked three tents down where the entrance was surrounded by men. "Out of the way!" he grumbled loudly. The men jumped aside, not wanting to get on his bad side. Randyll Tarly was a very harsh man. Some would even call him hateful. Threatening to murder his own son if he refused to join the Night's Watch tended to color people's opinions of him. Not that he cared what others thought. He only cared about his family's line and legacy. His son, Samwell, was a fat, little nothing that sat around all day and read books. He couldn't put his family's future into hands like that. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure that his family would have a future if he didn't find out what the fuck was going on. He entered the warm tent and found a similar scene as the one before.
Handsome Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers and the third son of Mace Tyrell was naked in bed, his limbs twisted around that of another nude man. The word man, when it came to describing the second victim, was used loosely. In reality, he probably wasn't a day past fifteen namedays old. Both men were locked in a lover's embrace. Both men were torn to shreds. Blood covered every surface, and like before, their insides were now outsides. The unknown lad had half of his scalp ripped off. Laying on the ground by the opposite wall was the chunk of flesh with the shock of long, golden hair that had been so violently wrenched from his head. Staining the bright blonde hair looked to be greasy, black oil.
"Have all three of them wrapped in blankets and placed outside," Randyll stated with authority. He was now the one in charge there at the camp. He would have to look for any scrap of evidence before sending a Raven to Highgarden. He just hoped that he could find someone to place the blame on.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The previous night, Willas limped up to his room and sat down on his bed. With tired hands, he removed his clothes and his knee brace, and he got ready for bed. Since his father's death, he had been working fourteen hours a day to get things in order. He couldn't wait for his mother and sister to return and hopefully help relieve him of a bit of the load. His two younger brothers were camped in the woods near Tumbleton along with the rest of his army. A decision on that would need to be made soon as well, he thought with some trepidation.
Wincing, he slowly walked toward the fireplace, his lame knee aching. It had begun hurting him more than normal since the weather had turned cold. Bending down, he grabbed two large pieces of firewood and tossed them into the flames. The night was cold, and he didn't want the fire to die too soon. As the pieces of wood hit the glowing red pile, hundreds of tiny embers lifted up into the air and danced around the room. Willas turned and stared at them for a moment, just as he had done when he was a small child. He used to love throwing rocks into the campfires and sending embers flying everywhere. He sighed tiredly and reached up to scratch his head. Before letting his arm drop, he stopped short. His shadow … the arm of his shadow hadn't lifted when he raised his. He lowered his arm and lifted it again. Once again, his shadow just stood there. Willas suddenly felt incredibly uneasy. Dropping his arm, he stepped to the side. His shadow didn't move an inch. It just stood there against the wall, looking directly at the burning flames as though it had been painted on. Willas was about to take a step forward when the head of his shadow snapped in his direction. He gasped and stumbled backward. His knee twisted in torturous agony, and he fell to the cold, stone floor in a painful heap. Crying out, he grabbed his knee, all thought of the shadow forgotten. That was until the shadow began walking in his direction.
"What dark sorcery is this?!" he yelled out in fright, trying to scoot back. Every movement felt like a knife to the knee. "Stay back, foul creature!" he yelled again, his voice cracking in a frightened manner. As he watched and trembled, his shadow morphed into that of a small, misshapen child. It became more than just shadow as inky, black oil dripped from its clawed hands. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of rotten, razor-sharp teeth and a long, serpentine tongue that was coated in purplish pustules. The smell of its breath was rancid, and Willas gagged loudly. Wanting to get as far away from it as he could, Willas gathered every ounce of willpower and rolled over. The pain was excruciating. With his back to the creature, he pushed himself to his feet and was just about to run to the door when he felt it jump on his back. He then felt the razors tear the flesh off his back.
Willas screamed as his legs gave out. He tumbled forward, and his face landed right into the dancing flames. His hair caught fire, and he inhaled superheated gases from the fire. His mouth closed and he gasped out a pathetic gurgle as he rolled out of the fire. The skin of his face was already blistering, and his eyes had been blinded. He felt his stomach sliced open, and a clawed hand reached in, grabbing his insides. When the creature began pulling stuff out, Willas's body bucked and began going into shock. He was grateful that he was already nearly dead when the shadow beast began tossing his guts around the room. He didn't feel a thing. He didn't even feel it when the beast bit down on his neck and tore out his throat. His body wouldn't be found until around noon the following day.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"What shall we do, old friend?" Varys asked his longtime friend, Illyrio Mopatis. They had just received news from what was left of his Westerosi spy network. Mace Tyrell was dead. How it had happened was still unknown to them, but that mattered little. Illyrio tapped his fat chin with an even fatter finger.
"A single mistake could ruin all that we have worked for," he stated and Varys nodded in agreement. Things had been going poorly for their plans for a while now. The peasant revolt, the death of Viserys, and the blatant abduction of Daenerys all had delayed their goal, and all of it could be placed at the feet of one man, Harold Hill. How a bastard from the Westerlands could achieve half of what he had done was beyond either of them. Had Varys had any inkling of what kind of a man he would grow up to be, he would have manipulated him onto his side. Either that or had his throat slit. Sadly, even the Spider wasn't all-knowing. Their only saving grace was that he seemed content to stay on his side of the Narrow Sea. Oh, how he wished that he could get better spies within Seven Swords. The few that he had told him next to nothing. Most went quiet after a few months of reporting.
"We may never get another chance," Varys told him. "The Seven Kingdoms are in complete disarray."
"It will take time," Illyrio told his friend, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a perfumed, silk handkerchief. "Close to a year," he calculated. Varys already knew this.
"I will attempt to stir up a bit of trouble. I still have a long reach and many of my little birds are still happy to chirp … for the right price," he added. Illyrio chuckled causing his double and triple chins to jiggle. Gold was not something that they needed to worry about.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Margaery curiously opened the door to her private quarters in Harold's luxuriously decorated ship. She couldn't believe the speed of the ship when she was told of how quickly they would arrive back home. However, she wasn't sure if there would be a delay or not. Less than an hour after setting sail, she was warned to stay inside of her room. A storm was brewing. Being safe and secure in her room, she didn't hear a thing going on outside. The boat wasn't even rocking that badly. She had experienced sailing through a storm before, and her face remained green long after it had passed. This didn't feel anything like a storm. She opened the door and looked into the hallway. It was abandoned. Slipping out of her room, she quietly crept to the door that led to the ship's deck. She opened it.
Before she knew what had happened, the door caught the wind like a sail and was thrown open. Her grip on the handle held firm, causing her body to be thrown onto the wet and icy deck. Her body skidded toward the mighty bow as the ship dipped low, riding a massive wave down. As the bow hit the trough, a massive spray of water and foam whipped across the deck. Margaery spat the hair from her mouth. Her elegant bun had been blown apart, and now her hair snapped wildly in the fierce winds. She wiped the hair from her eyes, and she saw what kind of a storm they were truly facing. As the ship rode the next wave up, her body began skidding backward. Hoping that she would somehow slide back into the safety of the cabins, she closed her eyes and hoped for a miracle. Instead, her back slammed into the hardened wood that made up the outer walls of the cabins. The air was knocked from her lungs, and she began wheezing and coughing. Shielding her eyes so that she could see, she spotted several of Harold's deckhands trimming the sails and securing the deck. Fluffs of snow shot by so fast that they looked like a steady stream of whitish blurs. The deck was spotted with patches of discolored ice, and the wooden railings were coated in layers of ice, two fingers thick.
She tried to push herself to her feet to get back inside, but the smooth soles of her boots couldn't grip the slick surface of the deck. Her dress caught the wind and blew her forward, just as the ship rode the crest and began tipping downward again. Her body slid even faster this time, and as the ship banked left slightly, her body went along for the ride. The thick, frozen rail was coming up much faster than she would have liked, and when she slammed into it, she was going to be in a world of hurt. She cried out and closed her eyes. Suddenly, a hand snatched her bicep and yanked her to her feet. Margaery's eyes snapped open, and she saw Harold, her savior. He didn't say a word as he pulled her to the cabin and wrenched the door open. Margaery didn't need to be told what to do. She ran in, shivering harder than she ever had before. She heard the door slam shut as she blew rainwater from her sweet lips.
"I told you to stay inside," Harold told her. He didn't sound mad, but he didn't sound amused either, possibly because he was drenched from head to toe. Margaery looked down at her dress. It clung tightly to her feminine figure, and her hair was dripping wet. A puddle was forming underneath the pair.
"Sorry," she apologized, her teeth chattering. "I didn't think the s-storm was t-that bad."
He didn't say anything. He just led her back into her room and closed the door behind them. The room was warm and comfortable, but her clothes were cold and wet. Harold fixed that when he started undoing her dress. Once undone, he peeled the clinging material down her body and waited for her to step out of it. When she was freed of the cold dress, he sat her down on the bed and removed the boots and socks from her feet. Nude and on the bed, she was hoping that maybe he would like to take advantage of the situation. Instead, he grabbed a big, fluffy towel and wrapped it around her quivering body. He then grabbed another and began drying her hair, not caring that he was likely cold and wet as well.
"The storm is very bad," he finally answered. "It's the first winter storm of the season and a particularly violent one. It's almost like the Gods don't want me coming to Westeros," he added. This time there was amusement in his voice. She looked up at him and blushed slightly. He looked quite handsome with his hair all messy and wet. Margaery stood up, letting the towel fall from her body. She was still shaking slightly, but she wasn't sure if her body was shivering from the cold or trembling from being so close to him. Her soft, smooth skin was goosebumped, and her nipples were erect, crinkled, and hard.
"We need to get your clothes off or you'll catch your death," she quickly told him. Harold didn't argue with her. He let her strip him down. When she finally pulled down his trousers, his magnificently long cock sprang out, hard and ready to go.
Harry held back a smile as Margaery pushed him onto her bed. He hadn't been lying when he said that the Gods might not want him in Westeros. There was little doubt in his mind that the storm was the work of that seven-faced god or possibly the Drowned God. Westeros was their stronghold, and they didn't want him anywhere near it. Too bad for them, Harry thought to himself as Margaery straddled his waist. "I need to keep you warm," he heard her say. His hands found her hips as she ground herself against him. Those Westerosi gods better watch out, he thought. Harry Potter was on his way.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The trip was a bit longer than expected due to the bad weather. They first made their way through the Stepstones and around the southern coast of Dorne. Harry stood on the deck of the ship as they passed the desert kingdom. He wasn't sure what to do about them just yet. He really hadn't had much contact with them. The only things that they bought from him in great quantities were firewood and ice. Perhaps things would change now that winter was taking hold of the continent.
They then sailed through the Redwyne Straits, up the west coast of Westeros, past the Whispering Sound, until they reached the Mouth of the Mander. They sailed his ship up the large river until Highgarden could be seen in the far distance. Once they were docked, the moment they left the ship they knew that something was wrong. The Tyrell women were met almost instantly by Highgarden's resident Septon. Waddling up in his white robes and seven-stranded belt, he did not have a pleasant expression on his old, grizzled face.
"My Ladies …" he said, bowing his head. "I bring you tidings of the most grievous nature. Your son, Lord Willas … He was found dead in his room, murdered."
Neither mother nor daughter could believe it. Alerie cried out, placing her hand over her chest while Margaery clutched at her mother's dress as though she were still a young child. She demanded to see her son's body and was quickly whisked away. As they left, the old Septon turned and shot Harry an unmistakable look of hatred and disgust. Melisandre was by Harry's side, hiding the smirk that was so desperate to spread across her ruby lips. Over her trademark red dress was a red cloak lined in white fur. "Would you like me to gut the little shit, My Lord?" she asked quietly, hugging his arm to her chest.
"Maybe later," he replied, amused by her antics. Only a moment later, the castle Maester walked up to him and bowed.
"Thank you for escorting them home, Your Grace. You are, of course, welcome here at Highgarden," he said graciously.
"Thank you for the warm welcome," Harry replied.
"I believe the welcome will be much warmer inside, Your Grace. May I show you and your Lady to your rooms?" he asked, shivering in the harsh wind.
"You may," Harry replied with a small smile on his face. You had to watch out for Maesters. They were a tricky bunch that were only really in it for themselves. Especially the older ones. His grandfather had taught him early on to never fully trust them.
"Then right this way," he said, extending his arm in a grandiose fashion. The three of them chatted as they made their way to the beautiful, picturesque castle while Harry's drones unloaded hundreds of tons of supplies that were to be a gift to the people of Highgarden. It wouldn't hurt to grease the wheels of the locals, he sneakily thought as the Maester sang praises of the castle's rich history and beauty.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 51
It was well past midnight and only the most hearty of men were still out and about. A few were drunkenly stumbling back to their homes in one of the many slums of King's Landing while others peddled their black market goods. There were fewer guards walking around than there were when Robert sat on the throne. The past several years hadn't been good to the capital city of Westeros. What few guards were available were huddled in their thick cloaks as they did their best to stave off the unrelenting chill of the night. A bitter wind from the North drifted across the open sea and right over the city, bathing every street and back alley in teeth-chattering cold. As such, the guards who were on duty found any nook or cranny that offered the slightest amount of relief and snuggled in for the long night. After all, it wasn't like anyone would be climbing over the city walls.
Inside the Red Keep, it was much of the same. The castle guards walked their patrols slowly and tiredly. The biting chill had sapped them of their strength and had made them sleepy and slow-minded. Everyone of importance was asleep in their warm beds except the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. He was still awake, just finishing up his work. He had been mentally raging since he found that his daughter had fled the castle. How she was able to sneak out, he had no clue. He had everyone questioned, and no answers could be found. This only made him angrier. Obviously, someone in this castle knew something, he thought to himself. And those cocksuckers were clearly lying to him. Unfortunately, there was little that he could do about it. Cersei was already gone, and there was no use crying over it. He would have to change his plans around, but not by much. In truth, Cersei held very little value these days. It was more about the principle of the thing. He did not like being disobeyed, especially in trying times like the present. He had a hard enough time training a child to be a King, he did not have the time to worry about his servants stabbing him in the back, let alone his only daughter. If he ever came across her again, she would know of his displeasure, that was for sure. Until then, he simply had to move forward.
The Dread Lord of Essos
One by one, hundreds of the North's best fighters climbed through the secret passage and into the Red Keep's dungeons. Lord Robb Stark was the third to enter the dungeons. They listened quietly, not hearing anything other than a few rats squeaking nearby. "Torch," Robb called out. The man in front began striking his knife against a piece of flint, sending sparks onto a stick with an oil-soaked piece of cloth tied around the top. When the cloth burst into flames, the man grabbed the stick and held it high into the air, sending light all around the room. More and more flooded in as Robb pushed forward. It took them a while to find their way out of the labyrinth of rooms, but eventually, they found the main door back into the castle proper. Knowing there would likely be a guard outside of this door, they acted quickly. One man pulled the door open as fast as possible while Robb lunged forward and wrapped his hand around the man's mouth from behind. As quick as a snake striking, he buried the blade of a dagger directly into his heart. His muffled scream of pain seemed louder than it actually was. As the guard's body went limp, Robb pulled him back through the doorway and out of sight. "We move forward as quietly as possible," he told his group of men.
Robb had brought several groups that would act independently of one another. They each had missions. His was to go for the King. As he and his men moved up the castle, other groups continued on to each floor. The largest group made their way out of the castle to take control of the city, killing anyone they met along the way.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Tywin Lannister quickly drank down the last bit of wine that was in his cup. This wine was a bit more floral than the last shipment they received. He preferred the fruitier varieties, but still, beggars couldn't be choosers. It was his grandson Harold who supplied him with wines from all over the world. It was the least the little bastard could do after raising the boy. Tywin was just about to get up and go to bed when he heard tapping on the window. At first, he thought that it was just beginning to hail, so he ignored it. Then, he heard the tapping again. He stood up in confusion. He was in his chambers in the Tower of the Hand which was way too high for anyone to actually climb. He opened the window and was met with a blast of icy, cold wind and a spray of light mist. Something black shot in just before Tywin slammed the window shut. "Shit!" he cursed under his breath as he wiped the droplets of water from the front of his shirt. He ignored the intruder until it cawed angrily.
He looked over and saw a bedraggled raven with many of its feathers crooked. Tied to its leg was a message covered in wax. All thoughts of sleep forgotten, Tywin grabbed the bird in a not-so-delicate manner and pulled the message from its foot, ignoring the enraged squawk. He hastily unwrapped it from its wax coating and unrolled it.
'Robb Stark and his men have entered the Red Keep through an old tunnel. They intend to take the throne before the sun rises,' the message read. There was no signature.
For a quick second, Tywin brushed it off as a jest. How could the Starks enter the Red Keep unnoticed? Then he thought better of it. It was better to raise the alarm and end up looking foolish rather than do nothing and lose your head. He quickly made his way to the guard that was stationed near the entrance to his tower. "Ring the bell! Raise the alarm and gather your men. Send guards to the King's chambers. Have the entire castle searched for intruders," he growled. The guard snapped to attention and immediately did what he was told. Within a few minutes, Tywin was hurriedly making his way to Tommen's room, collecting every guard that he could find along the way.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Robb Stark quickly pushed the thick, oak door open as his men finished slitting the throats of the Kingsguard who were guarding King Tommen's door. Robb slipped in, and though he couldn't see very well in the low light, he could clearly see the young, blonde boy asleep in his bed. Laying on his back, Robb saw his chest slowly moving up and down. With his dagger in hand, he silently crept up to the boy. His stomach twisted in disgust, but he knew that he must. "Forgive me, lad," he quietly pleaded before driving his dagger right into the boy's heart. His small body barely jerked as he pulled the long blade from his chest. He stared at the bloody blade, hating what war did to men like him. Suddenly, he heard a disturbance behind him. A scream from one of his men. He turned just in time to catch an arrow in the neck. It pierced true, entering the windpipe and exploding out the back. The arrow ran out of momentum halfway through. Robb stumbled, his hand flying up to his neck. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow as blood gurgled in his throat. As loud as he had ever heard, a bell began ringing, and he knew that he had been betrayed. By whom, he did not know. 'I will never know,' he lamented, falling to his knees with blood pouring down his chest. His body fell onto its side as he took his last few breaths.
The Dread Lord of Essos
As soon as the door shut behind Tywin Lannister, the forgotten raven flew off of his desk and transformed mid-air. The black bird morphed and took the shape of a handsome, young man with black hair and dazzling green eyes. As Harry's feet touched the ground, he immediately went into his grandfather's desk, searching through his paperwork. It was only a few minutes later that he found what he was looking for. Harry waved his hand and made magical copies of everything. Battle plans, troop numbers, hidden garrisons, secret supply roads … He got everything. 'These will be a nice gift for the Northern army,' Harry thought.
For his newly-created plans for Westeros, he would need both the North and the Westerlands weakened significantly. That was why he was secretly playing both sides. No matter what, neither Robb nor Tommen would escape the night with their lives. At least, that's what everyone would think. As heartless as Harry could sometimes be, even he wouldn't condemn his little cousin to death over such selfish plans. That was why, lying in Tommen's bed, was a pig Transfigured to look just like the boy. The real Tommen was in a deep, magical sleep. He would deliver the boy back home and keep his identity hidden until everything had blown over. Perhaps one day in the future, he could rule the Westerlands or something. Until then, he could spend his childhood just being a kid with his mother.
There was no doubt in his mind that Robb would achieve his goal that night. Harry had cleared out most of the guards all the way up to Tommen's room. Harry went invisible and began making his way to the room. Almost there, he heard the alarm bells beginning to ring. When he finally got there, he saw his grandfather looking over the dead body of Tommen while Robb lay lifeless on the cold, stone floor, an arrow buried halfway into his neck. A pool of blood had formed around him, and Harry was certain that Robb Stark was dead. Nodding in satisfaction, he disappeared, letting everything else play out on its own that cold, winter night.
With Robb Stark gone, he would need to find anyone else who could make a claim for Winterfell. Sansa's brothers were the obvious ones. Harry hadn't been keeping close tabs on what was going on in the North. The only thing he knew was that Sansa's brother, Jon Snow, was at Castle Black. Her sister had been missing since she escaped King's Landing during Joffrey's mad reign. She too would need to be found. Thankfully, he had drones stationed practically everywhere, and he had trade ships that visited every remote corner of Planetos. He would find her, sooner rather than later most likely, he thought.
The Dread Lord of Essos
'Horseface Arya … If only they could see me now,' she thought to herself as she wore the face of a beautiful, young woman who had lost her child at birth and had asked for the gift. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her beautiful, chestnut hair was done up in a bun with a long, thick, silver pin holding it in place. Her body had soft, feminine curves that would draw the attention of any man … and even some women, she thought with amusement. She continued to gaze at her new face. Sight … What a luxury, she told herself. It was only when something was taken away, that one could understand just how valuable it truly was. That was true for her sight, but then again, it was true for a lot of things. 'Family,' quickly came to her mind. Arya Stark shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts. This was not the time.
She ran her hands down her slim sides and over her widening hips. She was ready to go. Leaving the House of Black and White, Arya walked the streets of Braavos with confidence. The winter winds blew hard from the north, nearly unraveling the bun of hair on her head. She pulled her cloak tighter around her young body. As she walked, she could feel the tension of the people as they went about their daily lives. Soon winter would fully be upon them, and the crucial harbors and ports that they rely on would be frozen over. Contrary to these beliefs, the leaders of the city had assured their citizens that the harbors would remain open. The black trade ships that visited daily would continue plying the city with their wares. Arya had heard that the owner of these black ships had other ships that were much bigger. The leaders called them Icebreakers, and supposedly, they would break the ice apart and keep the trading lanes open. That meant food, furs, leathers, medicines, and most importantly, firewood would continue being traded to the city.
At first, Arya snorted to herself. How often do promises go unkept, she thought. But then, she remembered who owned these black ships. The Dread Lord was what many of the sailors and sellswords called him as they sang his praises or told tales of his various atrocities. Such a strange name she had thought. After a bit of digging, she discovered that the Dread Lord was actually a man named Harold Hill, the bastard son of Jaime Lannister. Arya's hand clenched into a fist. The Lannisters were on her list. She owed them a hefty debt which she was eager to pay back.
One thing could be said though. The Dread Lord was powerful … powerful and wealthy, and he apparently had more gold in the Iron Bank than the next ten richest kingdoms combined. As such, he had tremendous influence in the city, which he rarely if ever used. However, it was the Iron Bank that cut the deal with the newly-minted King, and if the Iron Bank told you something, you better believe that it's true. That didn't stop the people from worrying though. Every day it was getting colder and colder, and the traders coming from further north were already complaining about cake ice forming in the Shivering Sea. It wouldn't be long until everything was iced over.
Arya pushed those thoughts from her mind as she came upon the first bridge. She would have to cross many more before she reached her destination. Once she was on the mainland, she continued west until she reached the canal where she paid a boatman to take her south a ways. When they reached the junction of two canals, she told him, "This is as far as I go." The man docked along the side, and Arya hopped out.
Again heading west toward the Happy Port, she was forced to listen to dozens of catcalls from drunk and lustful sailors. She didn't mind, however. She had heard much worse things since her escape from King's Landing. Arya could smell her destination before she could actually see it. After losing her eyesight, she could only rely on her ears and nose, and the sounds and smells of the Satin Palace were unmistakable to her. Blind Beth, the poor, little beggar girl was what the locals had called her. What they didn't know was that she was collecting information to pass along to the Kindly Man. Disguised as Beth, she had infiltrated all but the most wealthy of areas in Braavos, and she could recognize them all by their smell alone. The Satin Palace was much less offensive than other brothels and taverns. The brothel was scented in fragrant perfumes that the lovely, young girls wore to attract their wealthy clientele. The place was quieter than other places she had visited. The girls spoke in soft, sweet voices as their satins and silks rustled. Even though she could identify the location by its scent and sounds, she was still happy to have her vision back.
Coming down the lane with a slight limp was a man that she knew well. She had spent ten days following him and learning his routine. Behind him was a group of four men that stayed close, but not enough to crowd him. These were his bodyguards, and he never went anywhere in public without them. Every three days, the man would visit the Satin Palace and hire one of his favorite girls. Once he had sated his lust, he would leave and return to Ragman's Harbor where he would board his private boat and sail around the island. He would stop at the Purple Harbor and exit his boat before walking the short distance back to his luxurious home. There were very few opportunities to get at him. That's why sometimes, you had to make your own luck, Arya happily thought. The man entered the brothel, and she patiently waited. No one wondered why a pretty, young girl was hanging out near the brothel. They probably figured that she was a whore trying to steal business away from them. That was fine with her. Less than an hour later, the man came out with his four guards in tow looking much less tense. He began making his way west toward the harbor. Arya followed slowly, keeping her distance. They walked over the short bridge and were about to cross in front of the Happy Port when a group of a dozen or so men jumped into the lane, knives in hand.
She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she didn't need to. It was amazing what will happen when you spread certain news to certain people, she thought sneakily. A wealthy man with minimal guards was an easy target for thieves, or at least they thought. His four men fought quite valiantly, cutting down several in the short time it took her to arrive at the scene. The rich man was walking backward, clearly afraid. Arya was only ten steps away when she reached up and pulled the silver pin from her hair. Her hair unfurled and cascaded down her back where it was caught by the wind. It blew back and fanned out as she walked by. With a short jab of her hand, she pricked the man with the needle shart tip. She heard him hiss slightly, but she kept walking. Wrapping her hair back up, she stuck the pin back through, taking heed not to jab herself while doing so. His guards never noticed anything out of the ordinary as they fought off the would-be thieves. By then, a crowd was beginning to form, but Arya just walked by. Once she was a safe distance away, she turned and looked. The rich man was starting to stumble forward. His face was sweating, and she could see his hands trembling violently. He clutched at his chest and dropped down to one knee. Those near him rushed in, thinking that he was having a health-related episode. In reality, a very potent venom was rapidly shutting down his organs. Arya continued to watch as he was laid on his back. Suddenly, his back arched, and he yelled in pain. This happened three times. The fourth time, his back arched, but he did not yell. He collapsed with foam dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes which were once bright and seeing were now fishy and dull. His body twitched one last time and never moved again. As the city guards came rushing in, Arya felt that it was a good time to return to the House of Black and White. The gift had been given and received. She had no more uses for this face.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked Margaery as they casually walked through one of the rose gardens at Highgarden. Margaery looked tired and stressed, though she attempted to look strong. Her arms were wrapped around his as she pressed her chest against his bicep.
"With my father and brothers gone, that leaves me as the ruler of the Reach … at least for now," she added. Harry nodded.
"There will be many plotting to get their hands on the title. I have no doubt that several Lords of the Reach are already making plays for Highgarden. Some might offer you their sons or even themselves for marriage in exchange for safety and security. And with your Army still away …" Harry told her.
"There is little I can do to stop any of it," she finished. "How I wish that I could find out who targeted my brothers. Was it one of my father's bannermen? Was it an assassin hired by the North or perhaps the King? I may never know," she sadly shook her head.
"I ask again … Is there anything I can do for you, My Lady?" he asked her. Margaery smiled and held him tighter.
"Are you able to keep the wolves away while I try and settle my family's affairs?" she asked him. "I would be very grateful, Your Grace." A shadow suddenly passed over her, and Margaery looked up. High above her, the black silhouette of a dragon was circling overhead.
"I believe that can be arranged," Harry smiled and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. Margaery melted into him as he held her possessively.
'With Harold here, nothing can touch me,' she concluded which gave her a deep sense of security. "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked him, locking her big beautiful eyes on his. "I don't want to be alone."
Harry smiled kindly at her. "Your wish is my command, My Lady," he teased, and Margaery smiled sweetly. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his loud, thumping heart. Her eyes closed, and she felt his arms hug her tighter.
Harry kept himself from chuckling. Her mother had said those exact words to him last night, and he obliged her by sharing her bed. It seemed that neither of them could do without him. 'Highgarden is practically mine already,' he thought to himself amusedly as Margaery cutely nuzzled his chest with her cheek. Hopefully, the rest of Westeros would be as easy to take.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 52
Her body thrashed wildly, though it barely moved. A strong, masculine arm was around her back, holding her firmly. Her legs were open enough for him to thrust away unfettered. Another orgasm hit her, and her thighs snapped shut but were blocked by his strong hips. She squeezed them tightly, hoping he would stop, but it was of no use. The pleasure was too intense, and she was afraid that she might actually pass out. How embarrassing would that be, she vaguely thought just as Harold flipped her over so that she was now straddling his waist.
Margaery flung her head back, causing her long, chestnut hair to whip out behind her. Falling forward, she was just able to keep herself in an upright position by catching herself against his chest. She could feel the powerful muscles rippling under her soft palms. His hands slid down her arms, and his fingertips brushed against the incredibly sensitive skin of her underarms. Margaery shuddered, and her body clutched him tighter. His fingers brushed down her body further and tickled the skin on the sides of her perky breasts. Again, her pussy squeezed him in response. His hands never stopped roaming, and Margaery kept her eyes closed, relishing in the sensation. Gathering her strength, she rolled her hips and began working his cock just the way she knew he liked. Margaery didn't just get lost in the passion whenever the two were in bed. She used her training and studied the situation. She made mental notes of the things he liked and what got him the most excited. From many, many hours of research, she knew that he liked it when she rode him confidently with her hair over her shoulders and her breasts proudly displayed. So that was what she did.
Her hips flowed smoothly over his skin as they jerked back and forth. Margaery could feel his massive girth inside of her, rubbing against her silken walls and hitting her most pleasurable spots. Her hair was bouncing against her nude back and brushing against her ass, and it was so long that she wondered if it was tickling his thighs. Her arms were at her sides, and her back was slightly arched. Her breasts were one of her favorite features about herself. They weren't large by any means, but they weren't exactly small either. They were very perky and shaped beautifully. There was no sag to them whatsoever. They weren't too far apart like some girls'. No, they were damn near perfect, she thought, especially with her light pink areolas and nipples that jutted out, crinkled and hard. Many of her past lovers complimented her on her lovely breasts. It was no surprise that Harold would love them all the same. Margaery was proud of them, as she was the rest of her willowy body. She was happy to display them to her lover. She didn't mind that his hands cupped them, or that his thumbs gently flicked against the hard tips of her nipples. The jolt of pleasure that raced down her spine only made the sex better, in her opinion.
His hand glided down her slim belly and over her smooth mound. Margaery waited with bated breath as his fingers closed in on their connection. When he touched her swollen clit, she squealed, came again, and collapsed onto him. Her body shook, and her naked breasts pressed against his chest. Margaery lightly bit down on his shoulder as his muscled arms encircled her tiny waist. She knew what was coming. She often collapsed into his arms, unable to keep herself going. Harold, however, gave her no respite then, and he wouldn't do so now either. The thought barely entered her mind when his hips pushed up, driving his perfect cock deep inside of her. The new angle was even better than before, she thought as she cried out and came harder. Again and again, his hips bucked, and he thrust directly into her g-spot. With every thrust of his hips, her orgasm exploded with mind-numbing pleasure. Her entire body tingled with blissful satisfaction that she had never experienced with any other lover.
Overcome with affection, she began kissing up his shoulder and neck until she reached his lips. Once there, she kissed him with more passion than she had ever kissed anyone else. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, and all she wanted was for him to seed her, but instead, he rolled her over again so that she was on her back. Without thinking, her legs opened wide, and Harold took the opportunity to thrust even harder.
Margaery broke the kiss and cried out, "Finish inside of me … please!" she begged as her body continuously welcomed him into her depths. She could feel him smile against her cheek.
"My, my, my darling, Margaery … Aren't you afraid that you might find yourself with child?" she heard him tease. Margaery, however, flushed in embarrassment. Truthfully, she wouldn't mind at all if she did. It would all but ensure that Harold was hers. Just the thought made her pussy clamp down so hard that she was practically choking him. He moaned deeply and kissed her soft lips. Margaery eagerly kissed him back. When she felt the sudden warmth spread throughout her lower half, she was ecstatic. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she locked her ankles together. She wasn't going to let him up until she had drained him of every last drop.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The following morning, Margaery couldn't keep the smile from her lips as she strolled through the garden. She didn't even notice her grandmother until she grabbed her by the upper arm and said, "Come, child. Let us talk."
"What about, Grandmother?" Margaery asked as she was pulled deeper into the garden where they wouldn't be overheard.
"I couldn't help but notice that you've shared your bed three nights in a row," Olenna spoke bluntly. Margaery wasn't shocked in the slightest that her grandmother was keeping track of her actions. The old woman did her best to know every little thing that went on in Highgarden.
"Oh?" Margaery asked with a small smile still playing on her lovely lips. This smile, however, was a bit more like a smirk than the one before.
"Indeed," Olenna responded. "And with Harold Hill nonetheless."
"Grandmother!" Margaery quickly chastised the old woman. "It wouldn't be wise to insult him." If Harold heard her grandmother saying such things, he may very well take offense and decide to leave. And where would that leave them? In a very bad place, that's where.
This time it was Olenna who smirked slightly. "Is it an insult to call out a bastard for what he is? Perhaps he does not remember that he is a bastard. He is so busy playing the role of a king."
"And why shouldn't he?" Margaery asked as Olenna threaded her arm through hers. "He has more power and gold than any other who can make a similar claim."
"That is true," Olenna nodded. "Some call him a king, and others call him a bastard. Titles are meaningless. What matters is power."
"So what is your point, Grandmother?" she asked. The roses were beginning to wilt, and soon, the gardens would be bare.
"I've received a raven. Several days ago, Robb Stark and a small group of his men infiltrated the Red Keep in the dark of night." Margaery gasped with wide eyes. Olenna nodded, trying desperately to hold back her grin.
"He was able to kill the boy-king Tommen before he was caught and killed himself. Currently, the North and the Crown are without their heads," the old woman informed her granddaughter.
"Everything is happening so fast," Margaery whispered, her hand covering her mouth. So many had died in such a short time.
"That is what happens in war," Olenna agreed. "From what I could gather, the old lion, Tywin Lannister has crowned himself King," she snorted with amusement. "I doubt he has endeared himself to whatever allies he has left."
"Can he do that? Crown himself, I mean," Margaery asked, and Olenna shrugged.
"He can do whatever he pleases, but he will only be a legitimate King if everyone else recognizes him as such. Can you imagine the rest of the Seven Kingdoms doing so?" she asked. Margaery shook her head.
"I too have my doubts. This is why I wish to speak with you. Harold … With his wealth and power, he could back his grandfather, and there will be little that the rest of us can do about it. The boy seems to hold you in high regard. He would have to if he is spending his nights in bed with you."
Margaery's face began to heat up at her grandmother's words. "You must continue with what you are doing. Do your best to keep him here and on our side. I will speak with your worthless mother. If nothing else, she'll be another smooth body for him to fuck," Olenna said with a sour look on her face. She had little respect for Alerie Hightower. "The woman already acts like a bitch in heat whenever he is around."
Margaery sniffed, finding the thought uncouth and unappealing. She knew that Harold spent time in her mother's bed. Why though, she didn't know. She was prettier than her mother and younger as well. She would bet her collection of dresses that she was better in bed than her mother as well. Perhaps her grandmother was correct, and men will simply fuck anyone they find appealing without a second thought.
"If we play this right, Margaery, Harold may well end up on the throne with you as his Queen," Olenna told her. Margaery's eyes lit up. Her as Harold's Queen? She found the thought appealing.
"Do you truly think so?" Margaery asked, her eyes filled with wonder.
"Who can say? It is certainly a possibility. A man with power will always crave a little more, but even if it doesn't, you must still keep up with your current plans. Our family is teetering on the brink of disaster, and you are our only hope. He can protect you, and as long as you are alive, we control Highgarden."
"Do you think any of the other Noble Houses from the Reach will try something?" Margaery asked nervously. It was her life on the line after all.
"I would not be shocked," Olenna simply said. "I have increased security as much as possible, but I would ask you to remain inside the castle for the time being. Greed is a powerful motivator."
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry smiled to himself as he stood close by, invisibly listening to the old woman. 'Olenna never stops with the schemes,' he told himself, amused by her antics. Little did they know that he did have his eye on the throne. Who, if anyone, would be his Queen was still up in the air. Margaery was a good candidate, Harry thought. She was practically trained to be a Queen from birth. She had the presence and beauty of a Queen, and though she was a schemer like her grandmother, Harry could tell that she had a good heart. He also genuinely enjoyed being with her. No matter what happened, he planned on having the girl by his side, one way or another. He wasn't going to tell her that though. No, he thought happily. He would let Margaery and her mother tempt him into staying by using their beauty and sexuality. It would be fun to see how far they were willing to go.
For the time being, he would be forced to leave a copy of himself behind. They wouldn't know the difference as it was identical, and he would be controlling it personally. Unfortunately, he couldn't spend all his time in bed with Margaery. There were plans that needed to be implemented, and there were people he needed to go and see. Thankfully, he was quite adept at multitasking.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The House of Seven Lamps was a place that many wished to visit, but many could not afford. Located Northeast of the Happy Port, it was a mixture of inn, tavern, and mummer's house where a patron could come and listen to some of the best music or drown their sorrows in an assortment of wines, ales, and liquors from all over the world. Most nights, the patrons were loud and rowdy with merriment. That night was no different.
Arya walked confidently between the many tables filled with drunken louts eager to empty their money bags. Her brown hair flowed down to her shoulder blades in soft waves, and her skin was sweet-smelling from the honey dust she powdered herself with. A light gray dress of expensive silk cascaded down over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. Her face was lightly painted with eyeshadow and lipstick. She almost didn't recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. She had come quite far from the skinny girl of nine namedays who looked like a boy. Though she knew that she would never be among the most beautiful girls in the city, she was pleased that she would no longer be called Arya Horseface.
Catcalls and indecent propositions were tossed her way as she walked among the clods who disguised themselves as wealthy merchants. More than one hand reached out and touched her. She slapped one hand away that had so eloquently grabbed her ass. She pulled her arm away from another who attempted to pull her onto his lap. The old Arya would have been shocked at such behavior, but she now knew that this was nothing but normal in places like this. She had been in Braavos long enough to have learned that lesson well. Ignoring them, no matter how much she wanted to stick them with her blade, she carried on toward the back corner of the room where the most wealthy were seated. As she did, she saw her man.
Handsome and young, she almost felt sorry for him, and she wondered what he had done to earn such retribution. It was possible that he had done nothing. Perhaps a wealthy competitor put the price on his head to knock him out of the competition. It had been done before, many times in fact. The House of Black and White was practically built on it. However, it wasn't for her to judge. Trying to calm her thumping heart, she let a sweet, innocent smile play on her face. Who would ever suspect that a teenage girl would be capable of murder?
When asked why she would not be wearing a face, they told her that the man in question had specific tastes. Those tastes just happened to fall in line with what she really looked like. Arya was strangely flattered but in the end, it made no difference. She had a job to do, and she would do it regardless. She focused on placing one foot in front of the other and walking as though she had been trained in the arts of pleasure, which of course, she hadn't. That mattered little though. In Braavos, no one was who they seemed. She stopped in front of his table and waited. His head tilted up, and he smiled.
He was certainly handsome, she thought … very handsome indeed. His hair was long and black, and he reminded her of the men from the North. The only difference was that his hair was shiny and clean instead of the matted and oily hair that she was used to. His clothes were fine and very well-made. They were obviously expensive. As she suspected, he was wealthy. His clothes weren't of a Braavosi style, which meant that he was likely foreign. "Are you the girl he sent?" he asked in a pleasant-sounding voice. Yes, definitely foreign, she thought.
"I am," Arya responded in her fake Braavosi accent.
"Then come, sit down," he said with a smile. He pulled out the chair that was next to him, indicating that that was where he wanted her to sit. She would be near the aisle and visible to those around her. 'Damn,' she thought. That would make it much harder. Not showing her annoyance, she smiled and sat down daintily.
"Meisko certainly knows what I like," he saucily stated, checking her body out as she sat. Arya's cheeks heated up, but she played it cool. As soon as her bottom touched the padded seat of her wooden chair, it was pulled closer to him, causing the wooden feet to grind along the floor.
From what Arya was told by the Kindly Man, once a price had been accepted, the man was watched until a weakness was found. Women … It was always women, Arya thought. He always went through the same man who knew his way around the whores of the city. If you had a type, he could find a match … for a nominal fee, of course. So Arya had her orders. She tracked down the whore, who like her, was petite, had brown hair, and was young. Arya caught her just as she was leaving her room. One chokehold later and the girl was out like a light. She dragged her back into the room and slipped a few drops of sleeping solution into her mouth. Knowing that she would be out for at least a day, Arya dragged the girl to bed and stripped her of her dress. She spent the next few minutes in the girl's room putting on her dress and using her makeup. Once done, she left to find her target.
As she was pulled close, his muscled arm slid around her shoulder. Quickly glancing around, Arya saw that most of the women in the tavern were in the same position and that they were enjoying themselves, or at least they were pretending to. Wealthy men loved whores, and the whores loved their gold. Doing as they do, Arya leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder. Looking up, she batted her eyelashes and smiled sweetly. Only a few seconds later, a young woman came up carrying two drinks. She sat them down at their table with a seductive smile aimed at her target.
"Our drinks …?"
"Belayova," Arya quickly answered, nuzzling up to him. She noticed that he smelled good. In fact, he smelled much better than any man she had ever been physically close to.
"Belayova … Such a pretty name. You can call me Harry," he smiled at her. "Now drink up and let us enjoy ourselves."
With little else that she could do, Arya did just that. She sipped on her drink while a musician sang his ballad on stage. When he was done, the crowd whooped and cheered. Arya, meanwhile, continued to look for an opportunity. Sadly, poison was out for the time being. He kept his glass on the opposite side. 'He must be left-handed like me,' she thought. She couldn't just drive a dagger into his heart right here in front of everyone. That would be ridiculous. No, for now, she needed to keep playing along. An opportunity will always make itself known.
The Dread Lord of Essos
'Will that singer ever shut up?' Arya asked herself as she was brought her fourth drink of the night. Her brain was already feeling a bit fuzzy since she couldn't just toss the drinks and pretend that she drank them. Having to drink them all down, she was feeling just a tad tipsy. She suddenly jumped when he placed his hand on her thigh. Embarrassed from being caught off-guard, she looked at him and smiled, hoping that he hadn't noticed. Whores didn't flinch like that. She placed her head back on his shoulder when he turned his head and placed his lips on hers. Arya's eyes widened as she received the kiss. It was soft at first, but then it deepened. His hand crept ever higher, and he squeezed her thigh.
Arya was losing her mind. She wasn't actually a whore! She had never even been kissed before, and yet, here she was. Not knowing how to properly kiss and afraid that she would be discovered, she simply did the best that she could. She copied his technique and pretty much just let him do as he wanted. She couldn't lie to herself and say that she didn't like it because she did. A lot, in fact. It was making certain feelings stir within her, and her body began to tingle and throb in all the right places. He suddenly broke the kiss and placed his lips against her cheek. He then laid kisses down her jaw and onto her neck. Arya squirmed, though she desperately tried not to. "Let's go to my room," he said, kissing her lips again. Dazed, Arya nodded.
They left the table, and he escorted her through the crowds of drunken patrons. The annoying singer was still warbling his tune on stage, and Arya very much hoped that someone would place a price on his head. They slipped through a backdoor and walked up the stairs to the second floor. From there, it was a short walk to his room. Once the door had been locked behind them, she found herself in his grasp once again. This time he practically devoured her mouth. Arya's knees nearly buckled when he sucked on her tongue for the first time. She could feel herself growing wet. She needed to finish this before things got out of hand. As his hands gripped her ass, she reached underneath a fold in her dress. Her fingers found the handle of her trusty dagger, and she slipped it into her palm. His hands moved up her back while his lips danced across the skin of her slender throat. Arya moaned as he softly nipped at her skin. His hand pulled on the strap over her shoulder, and he tugged the top of her dress down. His lips moved back up to hers while his hand touched her bare chest. Her nipple grew hard as his fingers gently caressed it. As he sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck, Arya cried out as she came. With what little common sense that she had left, she steeled herself and thrust her hand forward.
Instead of plunging her venom-coated blade into his ribs, she found her hand blocked just before she was tumbling through the air. Arya thankfully hit something soft … a bed, she thought just before her body bounced and her momentum carried her forward. She hit the hard, wooden floor with a loud thump. Arya blinked the spots from her eyes in a moment of confusion. A second later, she jumped to her feet ready to fight, only to find her target standing there with her dagger in his hand. He was examining it with a smile still on his face.
"Finely crafted," he complimented it. Arya stepped back against the wall to give herself as much room to dodge as possible. She watched him sniff the blade. "Scorpion venom?" he asked, sounding amused. Arya watched for any sudden movement, breathing heavily.
"Who are you?" she asked in a slight panic.
"King Harold of the Dreadlands …" he began. Arya's stomach dropped. She was in some big, big trouble.
" … and we need to have a talk, Arya Stark."
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 53
"How do you know my name?" Arya asked in shock. Her back was still pressed against the wall of the rented room in the House of Seven Lamps. She could barely hear the warbling voice of that annoying singer down below through the thin walls. She looked at the Dread Lord in fear. She had, of course, heard of King Harold. Who hadn't, she thought as he twirled her dagger between his fingers. Everyone knew of him and his exploits. The fact that he supposedly flew on the back of a dragon was a tale that spread like wildfire. Arya had heard many of the homeless children of Braavos talking about him and claiming that they too would one day ride on the back of a dragon. It was a nice thought, but it would never happen, Arya knew. Most of the homeless children would be dead before they even came close to adulthood. It was the sad reality of the world they lived in. Only the strong would survive … like her, she suddenly thought.
"Because I've been looking for you. You were a bit tough to track down," he told her as he stepped closer. Arya studied his face closer. He certainly was handsome, she thought to herself. Perfectly symmetric features, chiseled jaw, brilliant green eyes, plump, pink lips … he had it all. For a second, her body yearned to be back in his arms … to taste his sweet lips once again. Her body was aching for his hands to be on her … For his fingers to be caressing her hard …
Arya looked down and squeaked in embarrassment. Her top was still down, and her small, perky breasts were out for him to see. Her little, pink nipples were still stiff and crinkled from arousal. His eyes were staring at them … almost studying them. Suddenly, her nipples became very sensitive, and her pussy longed to be fucked. Arya could feel herself growing even more moist than she already was. She quickly pulled the top of her dress up to cover herself. She looked and found him with an amused expression stenciled across his beautiful face. Her face began to grow hot, and her cheeks turned bright red as he stepped right up to her. His hands touched her bare arms as he slid her dress straps back over her shoulders. Arya couldn't help but rub her thighs together. She needed some way to help relieve the sexual tension after all. 'Pull yourself together, Arya!' she silently chastised herself. There were more important things to worry about right now.
"You were looking for me?" she asked in confusion. He nodded. "For me?" she asked again. Again, he nodded.
"Yes. It was quite a shock to find that you had joined up with the Faceless Men," he told her. He was so close that she could feel his body heat. Hearing him speak of the Faceless Men reminded her of something. 'Oh, yeah, I was hired to murder him,' Arya remembered then flushed beet-red. What would he do in response? Feed her to his dragon perhaps?
"After the shock subsided, I began to wonder how good you were. That's why I hired you," he added.
"I'm sorry, I …" she began but then halted. "... Wait … You hired me?"
"Yes," he smiled.
"You hired the Faceless Men to assassinate yourself?" she asked again in confusion. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. The Faceless Men and I have an unspoken arrangement. They don't accept contracts on me, and I don't burn the House of Black and White to the ground."
"If they don't accept contracts on you, then how did you…" Arya began but was cut off.
"I asked them to send you after me as a test. It wasn't really a contract to begin with since you were never going to complete your mission."
Arya's temper flared. "Yes, I would have! I would just need to rethink my strategy and …" she started up but stopped when he cleared his throat. Arya saw that he was still spinning her dagger in his hand. She was being reminded that she was unarmed and defenseless. There was no way that she could defeat him in a physical fight either. She blushed again and decided to keep her mouth shut.
"Regardless, I didn't come here to hire an assassin. I prefer to do my own dirty work," he said.
"Then why were you looking for me?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched as he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. Feeling like there was no other choice, she walked over and sat down next to him.
"Things have changed in Westeros," he told her. "The war is still raging, but many are dying and many more will soon follow." She looked at him with confusion. "Your brother, Robb, he was recently killed."
Arya's breath hitched. She knew there was a good chance that he wouldn't survive the war, but the news of his death was still like a punch in the gut. "Bran … Rickon … Sansa," she asked quietly, staring at the wall in shock.
"Bran and Rickon, I'm not sure yet. I suppose they are back at Winterfell. Sansa and your mother are staying with me in my castle. I will be leaving shortly to bring them word of your brother's death. They must act fast. With your brother gone, the wolves will begin circling Winterfell, hoping to claim the North as their own."
Her heart began beating fast. She knew that his words were true. She only had a taste of what it was like to live in King's Landing. The whole retched city was crawling with sycophants who would be only too happy to stick a knife in your back. Everyone was in it for themselves. Someone would try and betray their family and take Winterfell away from them. Of that, there was no doubt in her mind.
"My mother and Sansa … Why are they with you?" she suddenly asked. Why the hell was her mother not at Winterfell where she belonged? How did Sansa escape King's Landing?
"They came to my city to negotiate for the North."
"Negotiate what?" Was Sansa trying to marry him or something?
"As you know, winter is upon us, and it has never been kind to your people. They came hoping that I would supply the North with food and supplies throughout the winter," he told her.
"Oh," she said quietly, still thinking.
"So what is your plan, Arya? Will you remain here, or will you come with me? I leave early in the morning," he told her. Arya looked at him. She obviously wanted to see her mother and sister again, and she desperately missed Winterfell.
"I'll come with you," she said, sounding especially young to him at that moment. Arya cleared her throat and spoke again, this time sounding a bit more self-assured. "I should go back to the House of Black and White and tell them of my plans."
"I already mentioned that I would be taking you if you chose to allow it. If you have anything that needs collecting, however …"
"I gave up all my possessions when I joined the Faceless Men. All except one thing. I need to go get it," she told him, standing up. Harry nodded.
"Very well. Meet me here when you're done. Don't be long. We leave at daybreak," he said to her. Arya nodded in understanding and quickly left the room.
The Dread Lord of Essos
It was only an hour until sunrise when there was a soft knock at Harry's door. Already knowing who it was, he opened the door and stepped aside. Arya walked in wearing an outfit that seemed to be a mixture of male and female attire. She was wearing a dark gray vest over a white, long-sleeved blouse. She was wearing a matching gray skirt, but her legs were covered by black trousers. Leather boots covered her feet and went almost all the way up to her knees. On her slim waist was a sword with a long, thin blade. It was the same type of sword that Braavosi Water Dancers used to fight with. She was also holding a cloth sack firmly in her hand.
"That's a nice sword," Harry complimented her blade.
"Thank you. My brother Jon gave it to me," she responded.
"Do you know how to use it?" Harry then asked.
"Not as well as I would like."
Harry chuckled at her.
"Perhaps I can show you a thing or two."
Arya gave him a slight smile before looking him over. Harry had also changed before her arrival. He was now wearing his normal clothing. "We may as well get going. By the time we get to Ragman's Harbor, the sun will nearly be up." Arya agreed and followed him out the door.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Step in to parry. Don't be afraid to be aggressive," Harold called out to her. They were on his massive ship that was probably more luxurious than any room in the Red Keep, Arya thought as she nodded. She was holding her sword, Needle, while Harold was holding a wooden practice sword. He had asked her to call him Harold. Arya couldn't stop her face from heating up when he did. Again, Harold swung his sword, and this time, Arya stepped in and parried.
"Good," he called out. "Now that you've stepped into my space, I have nowhere to go. From here you can take many different actions. A headbutt to the nose, you can stomp my foot or knee me in the groin, but my personal favorite is an elbow to the jaw. That will make them see stars," he said, leaning in and bumping her hard with his shoulder. Arya stumbled backward several steps. She didn't realize how strong he was. He barely even touched her, and she nearly fell over. "Attack again!"
Arya did as her former teacher, Syrio Forel had taught her. She used her size and speed to her advantage … or at least she tried to. They didn't call him the Dread Lord because he liked to play with kittens, she realized when all of her fastest strikes were countered by him. He brought his wooden sword up and blocked one of her swipes. As Needle struck the practice sword, the vibrations in her sword caused her hand to start hurting. That momentary lapse was all he needed. He started his attack, and Arya was forced into a defensive position. She moved as fast as humanly possible to block all of his jabs and swipes. Just as he told her to do, she stepped in during a parry and stomped her foot down. Instead of connecting with the top of his armored boot, the sole of her boot banged hard onto the wooden flooring of the cabin. She then found herself soaring through the air from a hip toss. Arya squealed in fright before hitting her bed. Needle went flying across the room and landed noisily on the floor. Arya looked at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily.
"Never assume that your opponent won't counter your dirty tactics," he explained. "And always be aware of their dirty tactics." Arya nodded in compliance.
As he had stated, his ship was very fast, so it wasn't long before they found themselves on his city's doorstep. Arya didn't exactly believe him when he said that they would arrive by the end of the day. A journey from Braavos down to the Disputed Lands would normally take a week or so, and that was assuming that there would be good weather and a strong breeze. 'Disputed Lands,' she thought with a snort. No one disputed them any longer, she told herself as the glittering, white city came into view. Arya stood at the ship's bow, taking in the breathtaking sight. By then, it was late afternoon and the setting sun was covering the city in an orange glow, making it seem that it was on fire. Her heart started beating faster when she realized that she was only minutes away from seeing her mother again.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Leaving a copy of himself with Arya while they docked, the real Harry appeared outside of a familiar door. He gave the door a knock and waited. As the door opened, he saw the surprised face of his aunt, Cersei.
"Nephew!" she sputtered before clearing her throat softly. Composing herself, she continued. "It's wonderful to see you again," she said evenly, stepping aside to let him in. The door closed behind him as he looked around her room. It was emptier than the last time he had been in there.
"And you, Cersei. Tommen has arrived, I hope?" he asked. Cersei nodded.
"Yes. Thank you for getting him out. He's out playing with one of his old friends," she told him.
"Many in Westeros believe he's dead, so make sure that he keeps a low profile until everything blows over," Harry said as he turned back to her. "I was surprised to hear of your return."
Cersei flushed red in embarrassment and stood there slightly squirming under his gaze. "King's Landing wasn't what I hoped it would be. The war has devastated the entire area."
"Indeed it has, and it will only get worse from here on. Many will suffer," he told her, checking her out. She was still as sexy as ever, and Harry could feel himself hardening. A light smirk played across his lips. "But not you, of course. You look quite healthy, my dear aunt."
Harry grabbed her hips and spun her around. Cersei gasped as he pulled her hips. She stumbled slightly as her back pressed against his chest. Cersei swallowed loudly while his hands explored her curves. Her body shuddered, and she closed her eyes. Her breathing became shallow and labored as he slowly lowered the top of her dress. Her breasts suddenly became cold as her dress was pulled down, and they were exposed to the cool air of the room. Instantly, her nipples crinkled and hardened. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he whispered in her ear.
Cersei gasped lightly as his voice tickled her eardrum. "L-Long time?" she asked, not really paying attention to anything other than his fingers which were gently playing with the soft skin on the bottoms of her perky tits. His hands then moved a bit higher, and he cupped her breasts in his palms.
"Since I last fucked you in this bed," he said in a teasing manner. He pinched her hard nipple, and Cersei squealed and arched her back, thrusting her tits harder into his hands. Then her body jerked as Harry harshly tugged her dress the rest of the way down. Cersei now found herself standing naked in a pool of fabric. "On the bed … now," he ordered her.
She didn't know why his tone of voice made her pussy quiver with need, but that was beside the point. She was in desperate need of a good, hard fucking. Scampering over to her bed, she quickly removed her boots as she watched her nephew strip down. She licked her lips when his fat cock sprang out of his tight trousers. Without a stitch of clothing, Cersei positioned herself on the bed and spread her legs wide. Her eyes feasted on his young, powerful frame. His handsome face, his rippling biceps … Cersei didn't realize that her hand had found its way between her legs while her eyes moved down over his muscled chest. When they landed on his toned abs, her fingers began stroking her slit. Within seconds, her fingers were slick with her juices. He then began making his way over to her.
Cersei blushed pink and used two fingers to spread her lips apart. His hand found its way to his cock, and he started stroking himself while she showed off her wet, pink insides. "Did you miss having my body, nephew?" she asked him as he crawled onto her bed. She inhaled deeply when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her body to him.
"Indeed I did," he told her, placing one of her legs over his powerful shoulder while he pushed her other thigh flat against the bed. Her pussy was spread open, wet, and ready for him. Cersei cried out when he teased her engorged clit with his thumb. "Then wait no longer. Take me!" she begged as he leaned forward. Her leg was pushed back toward her body as his lips came closer to her. Cersei shuddered when his lips brushed against her soft, pink ones. She opened her mouth slightly, breathing heavily. When his lips finally touched hers, she nearly came on the spot. She actually did orgasm only a second later when his cock easily slipped between her hot, wet folds.
This was better than her dreams, Cersei thought as inch after inch of his perfect manhood stretched her tight tunnel. There wasn't even the slightest amount of resistance as he pushed all of the way in. She was wetter than she had ever been. When she first returned to Westeros, she didn't realize how much she would miss The White Pearl of Essos, as the rich merchants she socialized with called the city. Most of her longing, however, wasn't directed at the city itself, but rather, it was directed at the man currently thrusting his hips and hitting her favorite spot deep within her. On her very first night in the Red Keep, she found herself tossing and turning. Her dreams and desires wouldn't give her a moment of peace. All she could think about was Harold slamming her onto the bed and taking her body like some ravenous barbarian. Oh, how thankful she was that she was back home … and now, his cock was back home where it belonged, she thought to herself as he hit her g-spot. Cersei clawed at the bed as she came again. Her velvety walls rippled and fluttered around his magnificent girth.
Her nipples ached when they pressed against his hard chest, and as her body moved, they were dragged back and forth across his skin. Sparks of pleasure raced up and down her spine. He then broke the kiss and flipped her over onto her belly. She felt his hands pull at her hips until her ass was up in the air. The cool air blowing against her smoldering pussy sent shivers down her body. Her knees were forced apart, fully exposing her wet cunt. Cersei's eyes fluttered when his hands gently slid over her soft, smooth skin. His fingertips glided up the backs of her thighs, and he gripped her cheeks tightly. Cersei pressed her face against the bed when he spread her open. She knew what he was going for.
Sure enough, she felt his finger circling the rim of her asshole. His fingertip then dipped down and collected some of her wetness from her sopping-wet pussy. Bringing it back up, he began massaging her hole which made her mewl in pleasure.
Harry chortled at Cersei's reactions. It was clear that she missed his body. Knowing that she wouldn't see, Harry used his magic to help lube up her asshole. Harry inserted the tip of his finger into her hole and pushed all the way in. Once knuckle deep, he spurted lube from the tip of his finger directly inside of her. Cersei squealed, and her hole clamped down on his finger. Harry began thrusting his finger until her tight hole was a bit looser. With her hole ready, Harry settled behind her and placed the tip of his cock against her hole. Adding a bit of pressure, he pushed on it until the head popped into the hole.
Biting down on the blanket, Cersei cried out as her asshole stretched. She grunted as he pushed farther in and squealed as he pulled back out. "I missed your lovely ass," Harry said, pushing his shaft deeper.
Her body jerked back and forth as her nephew took liberties with her body that she would never allow anyone else to take. She would never tell anyone, but she loved the sensation of having her ass taken by him. The pleasure was beyond words. It was a strange sensation to be sure, but she enjoyed it thoroughly. The deeper he went, the more her pussy would tingle. Fat beads of pussy juice were dripping off of her slick cunt and falling onto the bed below. She grunted with every powerful thrust and even arched her back to allow him to fuck her harder. Cersei didn't understand how he wasn't tearing her apart, but in the moment, she didn't care one bit. All she cared about was the intense pleasure she was feeling, especially when he reached down and shoved two fingers into her pussy. His fingers curled expertly and touched her g-spot. She could hear the squelching and sloshing of her pussy, and it amazed her at how wet she was.
A pathetic whine escaped her lips and was muffled by the bed. Her pussy was already actively trying to milk his cock as her low, steady orgasm carried on with every thrust of his wonderful cock. His fingers were hitting spots that only he could somehow reach. When she heard his familiar low moan, she knew that he was getting close. Tightening her ass around his thrusting shaft, she threw her ass back and took him as deep as possible. His hands squeezed her waist possessively as a wet heat filled her naughty hole. Suddenly, out of nowhere, what felt like a bolt of pure pleasure shot from his fingers and went straight into her g-spot. Cersei screamed, and her back arched. Her body trembled and spasmed wildly Over and over he fucked her while she suffered through a spectacular analgasm. He then pulled out of her ass and shoved his still-cumming cock into her wet cunt. Cersei collapsed face-first onto the bed where she lay, letting him do whatever he wanted to her body. Once both holes were sufficiently filled with his thick cum, he rolled over and sighed in happiness. He placed his hands behind his head and relaxed. Cersei pulled herself over to him and practically wrapped herself around his body. The orgasm was still ripping through her body, causing her to squeal and mewl with every pulse of pleasure. Placing her head on his chest, she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart while both holes leaked his essence. It was good to be back home, she happily thought as she began placing kisses all over his nude body.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 54
Harry groaned, arched his back slightly, and stretched his legs as he woke. By his side was Cersei whose beautiful, blonde hair was a tangled mess. Her head was on his chest, and her arm was securely holding onto his arm. Down below, her leg was draped over his thigh. It appeared that she didn't want him to leave the bed. Harry snorted lightly as he yawned. 'The poor woman just couldn't get enough last night,' Harry thought. Harry wondered about how sexually repressed she had been while staying in the Westerosi capital. Even in her sleep, she was gently grinding her crotch against his thigh. Fading from view, Harry appeared standing up right next to the bed. Cersei didn't wake up. She was too tired from the long night.
Harry didn't need a watch to tell him that it was mid-morning, and unfortunately, he couldn't spend all day in bed. Shaking his head at the sight of his lightly-snoring aunt, he went to get ready for the new day.
The copy of himself that he had left with the Stark women had to deal with the aftermath of telling them that Robb had been slain. As expected, there was a joyous reunion now that Arya was back and safe which was quickly followed by a lot of crying and sadness at the tragic news. The copy of Harry had done its best to console them, but eventually, they made their way to their rooms to talk things over as a family. A lot of serious decisions needed to be made, but first, they needed to figure out what was going on at Winterfell.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Asha Greyjoy slowly made their way through the Wolfswood toward their ultimate goal … Winterfell. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be going anywhere near that frozen heap of bricks. Her home was the sea. When her brother sent her a letter asking if she would help hold the castle upon taking it, her first instinct was to decline his request. She didn't even want to be in the Deepwood Motte, but she had her orders, and she would follow them to the letter. Her father, Balon Greyjoy, had bided his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Once Robb Stark had taken his army far south and was solely focused on capturing King's Landing, he knew it was time to invade the North. The fact that the Tulley bitch and her daughters were gone only made it easier. There were only a couple of children left to defend the keep.
This, however, raised a problem for Asha. She figured that though the chance was small, there was a chance that Theon would be granted the Salt Throne no matter how much she deserved it. She was the one who was out there raiding and reaving, bringing glory to the Iron Islands. She was the one bringing home thralls and salt wives. She had paid the Iron Price a hundred times over. How many times had her brother paid it? Asha snorted at the thought. He knew nothing of their ways. He was an Ironborn by name only, and still, it was possible, however slim, that he could be chosen simply because he had a cock hanging between his legs. 'But he wouldn't be chosen if he wasn't there,' Asha had sneakily thought. That left her with two choices. She could either have him killed, or she could make sure that he didn't return to the Iron Islands. The latter seemed like the less risky choice. So instead of rejecting his request, she agreed and began the long march.
The journey hadn't been easy for the Ironborn. The first leg of the journey had been. They were traveling by sea after all. Asha had first stopped by the Ten Towers on the island of Harlaw to visit her mother. It was a sad sight to see her mother in such poor health, Asha had thought. Still, she carried on with her journey. Over the Sunset Sea, she and her men had sailed. They traveled north until they entered the strait just south of Bear Island and made their way southeast to Deepwood Motte. Her thirty longships landed on the tidal flats just north of the castle, and after a month-long battle and siege, her thousand men had taken Deepwood with minimal losses.
Asha had never felt so alive. After her brother Theon had been taken, she had worked hard to be seen as a legitimate possible heir to her father's throne. Now that she was winning battles, she felt as though she had truly earned the position. However, taking Deepwood wasn't the hard part. They still had the long trek through the thick, rocky, woods that cut between the Northern Mountains and the Rills. The journey ahead of them was going to be a long and cold one. Her fears had turned out to be legitimate. Of the thousand men she had brought along, over a hundred had died along the way. Most had come down with some shivering sickness that was unknown to them. A few had fallen and had cracked their skulls on the sharp rock. One of her men had fallen and broke his back. He had begged and pleaded to be carried along, but they outright refused. She tolerated only the strong amongst her ranks. His only choice was to be left there alone or the sword. In the end, they put him to the sword despite his wishes. His constant pleas had annoyed her.
Their journey, though long and tiresome, was important, and it was nearly coming to an end. Winterfell was only a week away, and after they had captured the castle, she could finally make her way back to the Iron Islands where she longed to be.
The Dread Lord of Essos
It was a few days later that Harry received news from his drones who had attempted to deliver a fresh shipment of goods to Deepwood. His trade ships didn't get out to Deepwood and Bear Island very often due to them having to sail all the way around Dorne and up through the Sunset Sea. He was planning on having them arrive every couple of months with fresh stocks of dried fruits and vegetables, grains, flour, and plenty of salted meats on top of the normal stock of fresh foods. That part of the North was sparsely populated, so it didn't need a constant stream of supplies for the people to survive healthily. Harry was surprised to find that a contingent of Ironborn was in control of the castle and held Robett Glover's family hostage. Robett, unfortunately, was out helping the Northern Army fight for independence and revenge.
Harry's drones made quick work of the Ironborn when they attempted to board his ships and seize his goods. Retaking the castle was quite easy since the Ironborn weren't known for their skills on dry land. The Glover family had been terrorized by the Ironborn, and as such, they weren't opposed to a bit of torture to find out exactly why they had decided to invade the North. Through some gentle persuasion, they learned that a force of a thousand more, which was headed by Asha Greyjoy, was making its way through the Wolfswood to help Theon Greyjoy sack Winterfell and take the North in the name of the Iron Island.
This left Harry in a bit of a dilemma. For his plans to continue as they were, he would need the two Stark boys gone. Harry, of course, was more than a little hesitant to let innocent children die for the sake of his fun and games. Thankfully, there happened to be another answer to his quandary that didn't involve killing. He could take the boys out of the situation while keeping them alive and healthy. Harry would just have to wait for the right opportunity.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Oh! That's good," Harry moaned as Catelyn rolled her hips faster and faster. Harry's hands moved up her thighs, and he relished in the sensation of her smooth skin brushing against his palms. Her tits, which were surprisingly perky for her age, were bouncing around and jiggling in a way that held his attention. Her pussy, though it wasn't nearly as tight as Sansa's, was still good enough to squeeze his cock in a way that had him constantly close to cumming. He moved his hands from her thighs to her tits and squeezed them tightly. Catelyn gasped and arched her back, thrusting her breasts harder into his hands. One of the things he loved about fucking women of Catelyn, Alerie, and Cersei's age was that they loved to fuck, and they weren't shy or nervous about showing it.
Sansa, though he loved having her in bed, was still young and inexperienced. As such, at times she could be unsure and timid in bed. Of course, when that happened, Harry would take over and dominate the poor girl, giving her multiple orgasms until she passed out from the pleasure. She would learn over time, Harry knew, just as every other woman did. Still, it was nice sometimes to just lay back and let an experienced woman work your cock, Harry thought as he did just that. Even so, Catelyn was being a bit more exuberant than normal, and Harry knew the reason as to why.
Her eyes fluttered as waves of auburn hair cascaded over her pale shoulder, covering one breast. Harry felt her insides clutch him as her hips rolled in a circular pattern. Catelyn leaned down, placing her hands on his pecs as she ground herself hard against him. Her long hair fell forward, tickling his chest as she attempted to make him cum. "It will be such a shame if this is one of our last times together," she gasped as her body shook. He could feel her trembling from both the pleasure and her nervousness.
"Yes …" Harry moaned as her pussy became incredibly slick, a clear sign that she was beginning to cream. "... that would be a shame. But what are we to do? You and your daughters will be going back to Winterfell. It pains me to think of how close we have become," he said while pulling her top half down and holding it in place as he fucked her fast and hard from below. Catelyn squealed like a young woman experiencing anal for the first time. Her pussy tightened, and the sounds coming from it were growing louder and wetter. He could feel her pussy juice wetting his thighs. Harry then flipped her over so that he was fiercely thrusting between her wide-open thighs. Catelyn's eyes were wide and wild with passion. "Especially Sansa and I. It is a shame we will be parted. Who knows what our future would have been," Harry said, keeping the smile from his lips.
It was more than obvious that Catelyn and Sansa wanted him to escort them home. For Harry, it would be an easy task. A clone of himself was still with the Tyrells at Highgarden after all. It would be nothing to be with the Starks at Winterfell. Harry was already planning to do just that, but he wanted the Stark women to be desperate. Desperation was good for him and bad for them. People made poor choices when desperate enough. "Indeed!" Catelyn squealed as she came on his cock. "That is why we decided to convince you to join us at Winterfell … at least for a while. We wish to show you the same hospitality that you have shown us."
"Oh? And how do you plan on convincing me?" Harry asked with amusement as he angled his cock and hit her g-spot again, making her orgasm hit stronger. Her inner walls were rippling and massaging his thrusting shaft.
"Sansa, darling?!" Catelyn called out through her orgasm. Just then, the door quietly opened, and her daughter entered his room wearing a thin, silk robe that did little to hide her body underneath. Harry looked over and saw that her nipples were rock-hard and poking against the light, airy fabric. Her pale cheeks were pink with embarrassment. He realized that she had been outside the door listening to him fucking her mother the entire time. Sansa slowly shrugged off the delicate material, and it pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it and joined him on the bed while he continued to make her mother cum. Waddling up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled his shoulder with her small nose and soft lips.
"It appears that we got his attention, my sweetling," Catelyn moaned as her walls gripped him, and didn't want to let go. "I can feel him twitching and pulsing inside of me," she giggled, gripping the bedsheets and arching her back so that her lovely tits were thrust into the air. Part of her words were to make him even more aroused, but Harry knew that she was also throwing the fact that he was currently fucking her, into her daughter's face. Like Margaery and Alerie, Catelyn and Sansa were a bit competitive when it came to bouncing on his cock. Each wanted to be the preferred one. Harry didn't mind one bit. It only made things spicier. On occasion, Harry would bring them both in at the same time and take turns fucking them while the other watched. He had to let them know that he was the boss around here. Now that they wanted something from him, he was going to make them earn it.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Sansa pressed her naked breasts against his bare back and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned over and kissed his broad shoulder, and she took a quick sniff of his skin. The smell of his body always got her wet and right then was no different. Being in the same bed as her mother wasn't anything new to her. She had been fucked in front of her mother by Harold at least a dozen times before. It was embarrassing to be sure, but she was doing her duty to her family and the North. Of course, she would prefer to be with Harold in private, which she often was, but sometimes he liked to spice things up. When the three were together, both she and her mother saw how animalistic he became. He would fold them in half and fuck them until sun-up, leaving them exhausted and sore.
When her mother came to her earlier that day, she explained that she was to join them in bed and that the pair would do their very best to convince him to join them at Winterfell. As much as Sansa did not want to go back to that cold, dreary castle, she knew that there was no choice. With her father and oldest brother dead and the North still at war, there would likely be someone trying to take things that didn't belong to them … especially the title of Lord of the North. That title now belonged to her younger brother, Bran, but there would be those who would use his young age against him. That's why they needed to get back to Winterfell as soon as possible. They were to set sail the following day and possibly leave Harold and his beautiful city forever. That thought did not sit well with her. She wanted him with her, as did her mother. They also needed him to come to Winterfell. If it was known that the Dread Lord was there and that they were under his protection, no one would have the guts to move against them. Perhaps then she could one day return with him, and he would make her his queen. Sansa shivered against his warm body at the thought. All of this, however, hinged on his decision whether or not to follow them home. They needed to convince him. It was absolutely imperative.
Sansa let out an aroused gasp when the tips of her hard nipples rubbed against his skin. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air, and her mother's moans of pleasure were loud to her ears. Her hands moved from his pecs down to his muscled stomach. Sansa loved feeling the hard muscles of his abs rippling. However, at the moment they were rippling because he was thrusting between her mother's spread legs. At that moment though, he pulled out, and Sansa saw inch after inch of his perfect cock slip from inside her mother. When his cock bounced free, it was shiny with her mother's wetness. "Go ahead, Sansa," she heard Harold's manly voice.
Flushing red, she moved around to his side and leaned down. The tip of his wet cock touched her lips before she opened her mouth and took his head in. Immediately, she could taste her mother's arousal on him. Harold moaned, and that was enough to get her going. She pushed her head forward and took him in further. His hand was then placed on the back of her head, and his hips began moving. Sansa closed her eyes and did the best job that she possibly could as the head of his cock slipped into her throat. She gagged, and her eyes watered profusely as he fucked her mouth. She couldn't see that beside her, her mother was masturbating at the sight of his glorious body. Sansa was just about to run out of air when his cock was pulled from her lips. She gasped loudly, sucking in deep breaths as she wiped the saliva from her lips and the moisture from her eyes. His cock was sticking out long and proud, and once again, she marveled at the length and thickness. Her eyes traveled the veins of his cock like rivers on a map. His cock was still shiny with wetness, but instead of her mother's fluids, it was wet with her saliva. This filled her with a sense of satisfaction, and she quickly reached out and grabbed his length. Her hand immediately began stroking him while he was stroking her mother's damp slit with his thumb. His other hand snaked between her legs, and his fingers began to toy with her slit. "Your daughter is nice and wet," she heard him say to her mother. Sansa's cheeks heated up, but she really couldn't deny it. She was wet … very wet, in fact, and his fingers rubbing along her sensitive slit was only making her wetter.
Suddenly, she found herself lifted up, and her body was placed facedown on top of her mother's body. They were face to face, and their tits were mashed together. She could feel her mother's hard nipples pressing firmly against her delicate skin, and she could feel her mother's body trembling. Sansa opened her legs a bit so that they rested on each side of her mother's outer thighs. Her heart was beating fast as Harold positioned her body to his liking. The bed was jostling, and Sansa looked back just as she felt the head of his cock rubbing against her opening. She gasped loudly as he pushed into her with a single thrust. Her taut lips were forced apart, and her tunnel walls were stretched to accommodate his impressive girth. Every time with him felt like her first time, Sansa thought as there was an initial flash of pain from being stretched. Harold pulled back and pushed forward again, drawing a shuddered moan from her lovely lips. Below her, she could feel her mother squirming. Within seconds, Harold was full-blown fucking her just as he had done a hundred times before, and for some reason, each time always felt better than the previous.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry smirked as he began power-fucking Sansa who was draped across her mother's length. He found that he didn't even need to lift her hips up. They were moving up on their own. It wasn't a surprise to him. While she was very much the romantic type in all other circumstances, Sansa loved to be fucked like a whore in bed. She loved having her ass up in the air while he mercilessly pounded her from behind. Almost as soon as the tip of his cock touched her g-spot, Sansa began mewling and moaning harder and with more passion than she normally did. 'She's putting on a show for her mother,' Harry amusedly thought as her cheeks clapped together. Harry then pulled out, much to Sansa's disappointment. He easily slipped his cock between Catelyn's folds and fucked her while using her daughter's juices as a lubricant. It only took a few thrusts before she was also moaning like a whore. After a minute inside of Catelyn, he pulled out and switched back to Sansa. 'The only thing that would have made this better was if Arya had joined in,' Harry thought as Sansa squeezed his cock with her silky walls. 'Soon,' Harry promised himself while using his thumb to massage Sansa's asshole.
"Please, Harold … I need more!" Catelyn moaned out her needy plea. Harry smiled naughtily and lifted Sansa off of her. The young redhead squealed as she was placed down between her mother's spread legs. He heard Sansa gasp as she came face to face with Catelyn's dripping-wet pussy. Harry's hand immediately found Sansa's upturned pussy, and he eagerly rubbed the length of her slit. He made sure to give her swollen clit plenty of attention. Sansa was wiggling her ass against his hand, letting him know that she was desperate for more. Placing his head against her folds, Harry pushed in and moaned from her wet tightness. Being inside of Sansa was heavenly, Harry thought as he fucked her harder and harder. There was never a point in which her walls weren't clutching him. She too was moaning as Catelyn continued to squirm underneath her. "Harold!" Catelyn cried out with a desperate look in her eyes. Harry gently fisted a handful of Sansa's lovely hair at the back of her head and pushed her face down into Catelyn's sloppy pussy. Catelyn gasped in shock when Sansa's lips touched her flowering folds. From the way that her eyes fluttered, Harry guessed that Sansa had gotten the message and began licking her. The sounds of slurping only a few seconds later confirmed it for him. Holding her head and pressing her face between Catelyn's legs, Harry angled his thrusts so that he was hitting her g-spot with every clap of her cheeks. With his free hand, he reached underneath her and flicked his fingers against her hard clit. Sansa let out a loud moan which in turn caused vibrations to stimulate Catelyn's clit. Catelyn moaned loudly and grabbed the back of Sansa's head. Harry moved his hand and placed it underneath Sansa.
He loved the soft smoothness of her young, supple body. Her hips were wide and her belly was toned. Like her mother, Sansa was made for bearing children. His hand climbed up her belly and onto one of her perky tits. He gave her breast a squeeze, feeling her hard nipple slip between his fingers. He closed his fingers and pinched her nipple between them. Her pussy sounded so wet as he stuffed her over and over.
With his other hand, Harry rubbed his fingers back and forth over her clit until she squealed loudly into her mother's wet cunt. Immediately, Sansa clamped down on him and set off his own orgasm. He grunted and thrust his cock as deep as it could go. Just as he began to spill his cum into Sansa, Catelyn cried out and squeezed her legs shut, trapping Sansa's face against her pussy. Harry watched as her body bucked and spasmed. When she finally opened her legs, Sansa lifted her face up and it was covered with pussy juice. Sansa fell forward, breathing heavily even as Harry continued to cum. When his cock slipped out of her cumming pussy, Harry shot his last load of seed onto her naked ass. Both women were tangled up, breathing like they had just run a marathon. Harry, however, was stroking his cock back to hardness. If they wanted him at Winterfell, they were going to offer a lot more than just that.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 55
"You understand that when this is over, you will remain here and rule the North?" Asha asked her brother as they secretly met at the Ironborn camp several miles deep into the Wolfswood. She wanted to make sure that he knew his place. If he didn't, her only choice would be to stick her blade in his back. For his sake, she hoped he understood what she was getting at. Theon nodded.
"I do not intend to go back to the Iron Islands. I will stay here and rule while I wait for Father's orders," he assured her. Asha nodded and continued.
"You do know that you will have to kill two boys who were raised as your brothers? Is this something you can do?" she asked. Frankly, she didn't know if he had the balls to do it. She could do it without problems. Theon, however, wasn't raised like her. He was soft.
"I know. I will see it done," he said without wavering. That was good enough for her. If she had to take a guess, she would wager that he would order someone else to do his dirty work. 'Weak-willed coward,' she thought as she looked at him. All she could do was hope that he lived up to her expectations.
"See that you do. We attack at first light," she told him, ending their conversation. As Theon slumped through the ankle-deep snow, a raven that was perched on a leafless tree branch blinked its eyes and flew back toward Winterfell, having heard their plans.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry's eyes blinked open as he received a mental ping from one of his woodland spies. 'So the Ironborn attack early tomorrow morning?' Harry thought as the massive, black planks that made up the hull of his ship groaned as they flexed. There was no storm, but the ship still rocked slightly. Every so often, a thunk could be heard as chunks of ice struck the side of the ship. The ice pack was drifting down from the Shivering Sea. During the winter, the seas were always rough this far north. If his ship hadn't been enchanted to counteract the sway, everyone on board would probably have been losing their dinners right about then. Connecting with the drones that were sailing his ship, he discovered that they had just passed north of the Paps and were entering the Bite. From there, they would sail just north of the Three Sisters and then head north to White Harbor.
A soft hand slid down his belly and squeezed his cock. Harry didn't even need to look to know whose hand it was. Sansa had gotten into the habit of holding his lumber while she slumbered, as it were. Harry didn't mind. He found the whole thing amusing. Sansa had always been the most needy and territorial of his girls. It was likely due to the fact that she grew up in the North, and she feared that she was less refined than the other girls. All her life she dreamed of leaving the North for one of the cultured Southern kingdoms, likely because of marriage. Now that her dreams had partly come true, she wasn't about to lose her spot to some sophisticated harlot. As such, she took every opportunity to please and pleasure him. Even as she slept, her hand would gently tug at his cock. 'It's a point in her favor,' Harry amusedly thought. He could hear her gentle breathing, and he could feel her warm breath on his chest. Her shock of red hair covered most of her face, but he could see her closed eyes fluttering as she dreamed.
A female groan was heard from his other side, and Catelyn rolled back over to face him. She slid her arm over his belly and pressed against him. He could feel the soft tips of her nipples brushing against his skin while he cupped her bare ass and gave it a squeeze. In an instant, her soft nipples became hard, and Harry could feel the crinkled tips pressing against his skin. Basking in her body heat, Harry closed his eyes. He still had several hours until he needed to be up.
The Dread Lord of Essos
As distasteful as he found it, Theon knew that it must be done. He was an Ironborn, not a Northerner, and he would prove his father wrong. Covering himself with furs, he left his room and made his way down to the gateway of the castle walls. As soon as he stepped foot outside, his body began to shiver, and he let out a shuddering breath. A cloud of mist escaped his lips, and Theon quickly wondered if he was shaking because of the cold or perhaps because of what he must do. Shivering, his feet crunched through the snow of the courtyard, and he saw the early risers completing their morning rituals. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, filling the sky with an explosion of orange and reds. The castle's inhabitants who were doing their early morning deeds didn't look nearly as cold as he felt. They didn't shiver even though they were wearing half as many furs as him. 'They are real Northerners … unlike you,' he told himself sourly. But there was nothing wrong with being an Ironborn, he thought as his teeth chattered.
Ironborn were strong and resilient, he told himself. Possibly even more than the people of the North. They were proud people who took what they needed or wanted and didn't take no for an answer. He could see the strength and courage in his sister's eyes. 'She is a true Ironborn,' he sourly thought. He could also see the way she looked at him with contempt. She thought him unworthy. The thought had hit him full in the belly. When he first realized it, it was all he could do to keep himself from beating her black and blue. She may have been raised like a man by their father, but that didn't mean that she was one. He was a man. It was the one thing that he could hold over her.
His plan was to take over Winterfell and put the Starks to the sword. This would make his father proud, he was sure. Hopefully, Balon would welcome him back home with a loving embrace and declare him the heir of the Salt Throne. If not, then Theon would remain in the North, ruling until he was able to amass an army large enough to take the Iron Islands by force. Then his father and sister would be forced to kneel before him. What he would do to them, he hadn't decided yet. He supposed that it depended on what they would have to say for themselves. Either way, he was getting ahead of himself. First, he needed to take Winterfell.
The Dread Lord of Essos
It was still dark when Asha and her band of a thousand Ironborn silently crept out of the woods. On the horizon, only the barest sliver of light was beginning to make itself known. She didn't need to tell them what to do. They already had their orders.
Their booted feet sank deep into the fresh layer of white powder that had fallen hours before. As they moved toward their goal, fresh flakes of snow were still falling, tumbling lazily from up high to cover their tracks. They made sure not to use torches so the castle guards wouldn't see them. Not long after, they reached the edge of Winter Town, which was little more than several long rows of small houses. Near the gate, there was a square where the town's people peddled their wares. This was also the area of the town that housed its few businesses, such as the inn and the alehouse. At the edge of the town, Asha held up her hand, ordering her men to stop. They stopped, and Asha and her few chosen moved forward, catlike and quiet. Taking slow, deliberate steps, they kept to the shadows to not be seen by the handful of guards that protected the town during the night. Asha could see them. Three men were just outside the square. All three had swords on their hips. They were practically huddled together while talking, likely near-frozen from the long, cold night.
Asha looked at her men and nodded her head. "Now!" she whispered. Completely silent, she and her men ran over and began beating the guards over the head with wooden clubs that they had carved the previous night. None of the guardsmen wore helmets. Instead, they headcovers made of rabbit fur to keep warm. These headcovers did nothing to stop the blunt instruments from caving in their skulls. Asha swung her club so hard that when she connected, the impact sounded like a hollow gourd being dropped onto the stone floor. The wet, hollow thunk was quickly followed by the man's surprised yelp. His body hit the snow-covered ground, and before he could even try to get up, Asha dropped the club and removed her sword from her slim waist. She placed the tip against his neck and pushed. The tip slid in partway, and she was forced to press the pommel into her belly and use her body weight to sever through his thick spine. There was a gurgle, then nothing more. The beautiful, white snow underneath his neck turned red as the blood poured from his wound.
Beside her, one of her men seemed to be having too good of a time. He brought his club up again and swung it down with brutal force. His victim was already on the ground, clearly dead. His head was caved in, and his brain looked like mush. As the club struck the pile of destroyed meat and bone, a shower of blood sprayed in every direction, some even hitting her. He lifted the club again but was stopped by her.
"Enough!" she hissed quietly, her eyes burning with rage. They were there for a reason that didn't include sating their psychotic urges. His club dropped to the ground with a muffled thump. "Let's go," she ordered.
They began their short journey back to their group, walking a bit faster than before. Now they just needed to wait for her brother to do his part. Asha threw her arms out to catch her balance. The normally muddy lanes were iced over and solid. It was very easy to slip and fall. Just as they were about to turn the corner, they heard a woman scream. The scream cracked through the silence, and the bitter cold seemed to make it even louder. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" a gruff, male voice joined in. They turned the corner and Asha saw what was causing the commotion.
Several of her men were attempting to pull a woman into what must have been her home. Her furs were scattered, and her dress was torn at the shoulder. Two more of her men were on each side of a tall, bearded man, holding his arms apart. At that moment, another of her men thrust his sword directly into the man's belly. He opened his mouth and let out a scream of agony.
"WHAT'S GOING ON OVER THERE?!" Asha heard from the castle gateway. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Running to her men, she jammed her dagger into the woman's throat. They let her gasping body fall to the ground.
"You stupid, fucking cocksuckers!" she quietly growled, slapping the small group of men across the head. They had just given away their position because they couldn't wait to take what they wanted. 'I only hope Theon isn't as stupid as this lot,' she thought to herself as she slapped another. Their lives were now in his hands.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"WHAT'S GOING ON OVER THERE?!" Theon heard one of the guards at the gate yell out. It was easily heard over the deafening silence. Before that, he had heard a woman scream, followed by a man screaming. Had his sister fucked up the plan already? Theon burst into a run, pulling his sword from his hip. When he reached the gate, two guardsmen were getting ready to open it.
"What happened?" Theon asked, joining them.
"A scream," one of them said.
"Jory an' his men will handle it," the other guardsman said, not wanting to pull the heavy gate open. Opening the gate was especially hard this early in the morning because of the cold.
"JORY?! … JORY?!" the first guard yelled, and they listened close. No one responded.
"Open the gate and go find out what has happened," Theon ordered as he tightly gripped his sword's handle. The two guards looked at each other before reluctantly beginning the process of lifting the heavy, iron gate.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Asha and her men suddenly heard the loud grating of thick, heavy metal rubbing against stone. They stayed quiet until they heard the loud thunk as the gate hit its highest point. Now they just needed to wait for her brother's signal.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Guardsman Alford Snow sighed happily as he emptied his bladder in a hidden corner of the castle's main square. He watched as the white snow beneath him steadily turned more and more yellow with every second. Just as he was shaking out his cock to make sure he didn't dribble down his leg, he heard the loud scream of a woman quickly followed by a man's pained yell. He stuffed his cock into his trousers and attempted to button up as fast as possible. As he was finishing up, he heard the gate beginning to open. This was strange, he thought.
Alford had been born a bastard but had worked his way up until he finally achieved the rank of guard. It was likely the highest rank that a person of his breeding would ever achieve. As such, he held his position in the highest regard. He would never forget the way other bastards would look upon him with jealousy. Working in the castle gave him a sense of pride, and he took his job seriously. Most days, he was stationed on top of the wall during the afternoon shift. The reason for this was currently slung over his broad shoulder. Over his shoulder was a bow made of weirwood. It was a gift from his Lord, Eddard Stark, and was the finest crafted bow that he had ever seen. It was gifted to him when he competed in and won one of his Lord's bowman competitions. Just looking at the bow filled him with pride. After being gifted the bow, his Lord declared that he should be one of the guards stationed atop the wall to defend the castle from raiders or wildlings. That had been his job every day since. Normally, he would still be warm in his room, but his fellow guards wanted to have a bit of a party that night, and they very much hoped that some fresh deer meat might be on the menu. Since he was the best hunter, it was up to him to wake up early and hopefully bring home a buck before his normal afternoon shift.
Because of his job as a guardsman on the castle wall, he very well knew that the castle gates shouldn't be opened for another couple of hours at least. Curious, he kept to the shadows and watched everything unfold. He heard Theon Greyjoy order the gates open. He watched his two friends, Osvald and Molner turn the cranks on each side of the gate. The iron gate climbed higher and higher until it locked into place with a loud thunk. Then, in complete shock, he watched Theon use his sword and swipe Osvald across the neck. His head spun off of his body and hit the ground several feet away. Still in shock, he watched as the Iron Islander ran over to Molner and ran him through the belly before he could even get his sword off of his hip. Snapping out of his shocked state, Alford instantly became enraged. Pulling the bow from his shoulder, he notched an arrow in the string and took aim. Just before letting the arrow fly, Theon whistled loudly. The loud, sudden noise affected his aim. As he let the arrow fly, instead of hitting him directly in the spine, the arrow hooked right, burying itself in Theon's shoulder. Theon yelled out in pain, reaching back to grab the arrow shaft. Before Alford could notch another, Theon ran outside of the gate and out of sight.
"Shit!" Alford cursed. Without a second to waste, he ran toward the bell tower.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Shit!" Asha cursed as she spotted her brother slowly stumbling down the snowy lane. He was hunched over painfully, and when he got close, she could see an arrow buried in the back of his shoulder. Suddenly, the castle bells began ringing. An alarm had been sounded.
"Asha!" he cried out. "We must hurry!"
Cursing again, she called out, "TO THE CASTLE!"
Her men roared with excitement. They were sick and tired of hiding out in the woods, freezing half to death. It was time for some fun! High above them, a raven cawed loudly.
The Dread Lord of Essos
As soon as Harry got the signal, he appeared inside Bran's room. Almost instantly, his direwolf became aware of an intruder. It growled menacingly but became quiet when Harry stunned him. The boy began to stir, so Harry quickly stunned him. He transfigured both into beads and placed them in his pocket. Next, Harry made his way to Rickon's room where he did the same. With both rooms empty, Harry exited the castle and entered the courtyard. It was at this time when the Ironborn invaders came running through the gate, murderously screaming.
The few guards that had made it into the courtyard were no match for the hundreds of marauders. Every single one was hacked to pieces. High above, hanging out of a window was another guard, continuously firing arrows at the Ironborn. 'He's a damn good shot,' Harry thought as one after another fell to his arrows. Almost every shot was a kill shot. One arrow pierced an invader's eye while another went directly into a man's open mouth. His scream was cut short when the arrowhead erupted from the back of his skull. Harry then remembered that he couldn't just stand there invisibly watching the guard take his shots. He needed to finish up.
Invisibly, he appeared at the back of the attacking horde. Looking behind him, he could see many attackers plundering the village right outside the castle gates. Quickly and easily, he stunned two of them and took them up to the boys' rooms. Making one look like Bran and the other like Rickon, he left them in their beds, stunned to look like they were still asleep.
With that done, Harry took the real boys back to his castle and placed them in an isolated section where no one besides him was allowed to go. He would make sure to keep them safe until he finally returned them to their family. That, however, wouldn't be until after he was done with his plans. All they would know was that they were captured by the Ironborn and held hostage.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Asha and a small group of her men made their way through Winterfell. Originally, taking the castle was supposed to be Theon's job, but he was dumb enough to get himself shot with an arrow, so now it was up to her. The castle had significantly more guards than the outer courtyard, and already a dozen of her men had been killed. As they rounded the corner, she barely had enough time to duck as a sword collided with the stone wall. A hellish clank of metal against stone made her ears ring. She only just threw herself to the side to avoid another attack. Her men were fighting their own guards, so no one was going to be there to have her back. His sword was nearly twice as big as hers, and when he swung it, she found trying to parry his strikes to be a mistake. As the two swords collided, the impact and vibration made it feel like her forearms snapped in half. She cried out with a girlish scream. Oh, how she hated that. Asha hated sounding weak and womanlike. The large guard brought his sword up over his head. Instead of rolling to the side, Asha struck out with her foot and connected with the man's groin. A tortured howl left the man's mouth as the sword dropped from his hand. It bounced off the ground and spun in her direction. The sharp edge clipped her calf, slicing her trousers and cutting her flesh. Asha hissed in pain but fought it off long enough to swing her blade and slice open the guard's belly. He cried out, holding his gut as he fell to the floor. Turning around, she saw one guard driving his sword down through one of her downed men's chest. She struck while he wasn't looking, and the edge of her sword dug halfway through the back of his neck. By then, even more of her men were dead. Only superior numbers were keeping them alive. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any more guards. Following the directions that Theon had given, she finally found the first boy's bedroom.
The little lad was sleeping away. Wanting to get this over with, she took out her dagger and jammed it into the side of his head. His body jerked only once before he let out a gasping breath. After that, he didn't move. The other Stark boy was only a few doors down. Like his brother, he received a knife in the head while sleeping. With the job done, they went back down and regrouped with her men. They needed to finish taking the rest of the castle.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 56
Harry stood north of the Thenn and deep within the Lands of Always Winter where no man dared to go. Even if they were brave enough to venture that far, they would quickly freeze or starve. During the days, the cold would pierce through you, and at night, if you were caught without a shelter or campfire, you couldn't hope to survive longer than an hour. This far north, nothing grew. There was no tree, bush, or blade of grass to be seen. Animals were just as scarce, and only the most foul and unspeakable things could be found there.
He could feel his drones feasting on his magic to keep themselves going. Normally, Harry would have just vanished them and found a more suitable site for them to work, but the mountains in the far north were practically overflowing with resources. Iron, lead, tin, copper, gold, and sapphires the size of golf balls were being torn from the mines. Harry was also harvesting aluminum from the rocks, though getting even a fraction of the amount of the other resources that he was getting was time-consuming. He wasn't mining the metal for him, however. Here on Planetos, aluminum was worth even more than gold, and the Iron Bank was eager to get their hands on the rare metal. As the only current supplier of it, that gave Harry major influence within the bank's walls. Most of it he sold to the bank, but he did keep some for himself … just in case he needed it for anything. As such, Harry was using the extra energy to keep his drones mining twenty-four-seven. Unfortunately, a nearby magical disturbance had been interfering with his operation.
Standing on the edge of a steep cliff, Harry was looking down at an army of undead at least a million strong. It was easy to spot the Others, or the White Walkers as some called them. They stood gaunt and tall with thin, wispy hair the color of fresh snow. Their eyes glowed like blue moonlight and they wore reflective armor that camouflaged them against prying eyes. Their swords were made of thin crystal, and as rumor has it, they could easily piece chain mail as though it were mere silk. Some of the Others were nearly all bone, which shined like polished milkglass and were covered in pale, blue blood. And though the Others were plentiful in number, their Wights made up the majority of the army.
Wights was the name for the resurrected men and animals that the Others used as battle fodder. Necromancy was a magic that the Others were masters in. There were hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children scattered throughout the cold, white plain. Harry wondered how long it took for the Others to gather such an army. The wind was fierce and the heavy snow blew in nearly horizontally as it hid the distant reaches of his eyes. Still, Harry thought he saw something. Using his powers to focus his eyes, his vision cut through the heavy snow and fog. It was then that he saw the true size of the undead army. The million or so that he had seen only moments ago was perhaps only a tenth of the army. Stretched past the horizon was a wave of men and creatures, all of them slowly shuffling south. Far in the distance, Harry spotted what must have been several thousand dead giants, their long, muscled arms dragging roughly hewed, stone clubs behind them, leaving deep ruts in the snow. The flesh of their shaggy, fur-covered bodies was milky white, which matched their silvery-gray fur. Not far from them was an entire herd of mammoths, some fully formed while others looked to be skin and bones. Harry couldn't count the number of creatures they had in their ranks. The majority of the beasts seemed to be wolves, which wasn't surprising. Wolves were the most abundant predators north of the wall after all. Direwolves, bears, and horses were also plentiful among the massive army.
Harry looked on in appreciation, and a smile formed on his handsome face. 'Perhaps this will be a challenge for me,' he thought as one of the closest White Walkers looked up and trained his glowing blow eyes on him. Harry could see them narrow as the corner of his lip pulled up menacingly. Though he couldn't hear it, Harry sensed that the creature was growling at him. Then it opened its mouth wide, and a terrible shriek cut the air and echoed off the mountainside. One after another, all the dead men and beasts turned their gazes to him. They now knew that they were being watched. The White Walker began running in his direction, so Harry pulled out his black blade and ignited its magical fire hotter than he ever had. With a mighty heave, he threw the flaming sword in their direction. The flaming sword spun through the air until it landed twenty rows deep into the first wave of the dead. When it hit the ground, it detonated with a concussive force that sent thousands of Wights and the Others twirling through the air, their bodies torn to pieces. At the point of impact, a tidal wave of fire exploded outward in every direction. Harry once again heard the high-pitched shrieks of the Others, but this time, it was laced with terror as their entire front line was engulfed in fire. A large, icy-blue spider scuttled off to the side, its back on fire. A moment later, it rolled over, and its long, spindly legs curled inward while it twitched. A horrible, chittering sound could be heard all the way up on the cliff as it died, its razor-sharp pincers clacking together.
It was complete chaos as the Wights stumbled around, falling over each other as they desperately tried to squash the flames. Of course, none of them were smart enough to do so. That was the problem with Inferi … They could only follow the most basic commands, and they certainly couldn't think on the fly. The initial White Walker that challenged Harry was rolling around on the snow and was just able to snuff out the flames before burning to death. As it pushed itself to its feet, Harry held out his hand and magically called the sword back. Somewhere in the crowd of burning bodies, the sword launched itself back in his direction, piercing and slicing anything in its path. Arms, legs, torsos, and heads were severed or torn as the black sword shot through the throng. The White Walker was no different. Fiendfyre pierced his side and tore a chunk of flesh and armor from its torso. Its body spun forward ten feet and hit the snow hard. Harry watched for a moment until he saw it twitch. Turning around, Harry walked away. He had sent his message. They were moving south, and eventually, they would reach the Wall. Beyond that wall was the Dread Lord, a formidable foe who wouldn't back off. From their speed and the distance they were from the Wall, Harry calculated that it could still be several years before they became a threat. He would keep a close eye on their progress while preparing for the inevitable battle.
When the White Walker lifted its head from the snow and looked in his direction, it saw only an empty cliff face. All around him, his fellow White Walkers were screeching in anger and confusion.
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Needless to say, Catelyn and Sansa were none too pleased when they received word that Winterfell had been sacked. They were furious with the Ironborn and with Theon specifically. They were also very worried about the two young Starks in the castle.
"What are we to do, mother?" Sansa asked worriedly while Harry gently rubbed her back. The ship was docked in White Harbor, and the two Stark women were enjoying the hospitality of House Manderly. Both the Starks, Harry, and Wyman Manderly were in a private room discussing the current problems.
Lord Wyman Manderly was a man nearing sixty namedays with a belly so big that he could no longer ride a horse. Because of his weight and appearance, he was sometimes ridiculed and mocked by his own people, thinking him oaflike and foolish. Wyman Manderly was anything but. In fact, he was quite the opposite … shrewd, cunning, and intelligent. He was also fiercely loyal to the Starks which was exactly why Catelyn had asked him to be involved in the matter at hand.
"I'll tell you what we do, My Lady, we march over there and …" Wyman declared in his booming voice but was cut off by the tapping on glass. A loud caw made Sansa jump. Harry walked over to the window and opened it up. A raven flew in with a note for him. He didn't need to read it since he had gotten the scoop straight from one of his drones. He had had the raven sent from his ship. It was all just for show. He opened the letter and read it, pretending to scowl in anger.
"What is it, Harold?" Catelyn asked, moving next to him.
"I'm afraid taking back Winterfell has just gotten harder. From the information sent to me, the Boltons have taken the opportunity to march on Winterfell. They know that only a small force of Ironborn hold the castle, and Roose is eager to control it," Harry told them.
"What madness is this?!" Wyman boomed. "I know that Roose isn't exactly a man to be trusted, but would he really risk his family by betraying the Starks?"
"With Eddard and Robb gone and Jon Snow at the wall, he surely sees it as easy pickings. I doubt he knows that Catelyn and Sansa have returned and are speaking with you, Lord Manderly. From his perspective, it should be an easy win. The good news is that Dreadfort is almost equal distance to Winterfell as White Harbor is. If we are quick, we can catch Bolton before he even gets there," Harry said as Sansa joined his other side. He could feel her warm fingers tickling his arm.
"There's a problem with that," Manderly sighed. "To pull together an army of any significant size, it will take time, and from what you tell us, time is a luxury we don't have. You also must remember that it is winter. It could take weeks just to gather enough men to make any kind of a difference."
"That is true. Winter will also hamper Bolton's efforts. The trek from Dreadfort to Winterfell will be especially long and brutal for his men, and while they must walk, we have the White Knife to aid us. We can take the river up until we are east of Winterfell. From there, we can set up an ambush and take Bolton's men by surprise. Gather your men as quickly as possible. I'll provide all weapons, food, and other provisions. I'll have it here within a week."
Catelyn and Sansa perked up, and Sansa squeezed his arm just a little tighter. He could feel her warm breasts mashed against his arm. The sexy redhead really knew how to get his motor running. As a reward for his gracious selflessness, he was planning another mother-daughter threesome for that night. He very much doubted that either would deny him his fun that night.
"That is very generous … Your Grace …" Manderly seemed unsure of what to call him. "But even so, it will still take weeks."
That will not be a problem, Lord Manderly. I think I have a way of slowing him down," Harry smiled.
Just then, a mighty roar made the walls and floors tremble. Catelyn yelped in fright while Sansa hugged his arm tightly. Wyman nearly lost his balance and almost tumbled to the ground. They all went to the window and looked out just in time to see Daemon, Harry's massive, black dragon flying by as he circled the castle. Down below, the townspeople screamed and scurried away in a panic as the dragon roared. All Harry could do was chuckle.
The Dread Lord of Essos
While all of that was happening, another copy of Harry was visiting his favorite princesses in Meereen. It was late at night, and the weather was quite chilly for that part of the world. Normally Meereen was very hot all year long, but with winter falling, even the hottest cities would eventually become cold. Dany and Myrcella's room was the highest room in the Great Pyramid, and thus, was even colder than the buildings at ground level. That was okay, Dany thought as Harry warmed her body.
Mycella was beside them, breathing slowly as she slept while Harry and Dany talked things over. "So how are you liking the city?" Harry quietly asked as his fingers gently trailed down her naked front. Dany shrugged her shoulders.
His finger caressed the smooth skin between her perky breasts, and he heard Dany gasp as her back slightly arched. Her breasts were pushed higher into the air, and Harry eyed her perfect, pink nipples. The tips were hard and crinkled, and they stuck out from her light-colored areolas. He let his finger draw circles around the edge of her areola, and he could feel her body trembling with need. The pad of his finger brushed over the hard tip, and Dany practically purred. Harry leaned down and kissed her nipple, making her lovely eyes flutter.
"I won't know unless you tell me," he said, nipping at the crinkled tip.
"I like it well enough," she told him, gasping as he caught the tip between his teeth. "I enjoy ruling, at least," she added. She then moaned as he gently tugged on her aching nipple. Harry loosened his teeth and let her sensitive nipple snap back into place. He tilted his head back up and looked her in the eyes.
"But you don't like the city itself?" he asked her while his hand explored her slim belly. Dany's pale cheeks blushed pink.
"The people are not like us. Their customs are strange … and I prefer to be closer to you," she honestly told him. Her face burned red in embarrassment. "You're not mad … Are you?" she asked nervously. Harry smiled at her and kissed her on the lips. As soon as his lips touched hers, Dany's arms encircled his neck, and she deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth when Harry's finger tickled her little belly button. The scent of her arousal was growing stronger. Harry pulled away from her lips and kissed her slender neck. Dany tilted her head back, giving him more skin to kiss. He nipped at her sweet-smelling skin, and she squeezed his muscled arms tightly. He then laid a soft kiss under her chin and began talking again.
"Of course, I'm not mad," he told her. By then, his hand was caressing her inner thigh. Dany closed her legs on his hand and began rubbing her thighs together. The smell of her wet pussy was strong. "Now that Cersei is back in the city, I was thinking about bringing Myrcella back, but I didn't want to leave you alone in Meereen. I decided to talk to you first and see what you wanted."
"I don't want to be left here alone," she immediately told him. Her hand dipped low and cupped his heavy sack. Daenerys had gotten good at handling him without being too rough. Myrcella still got a bit too excited on occasion.
"I can get someone else to rule temporarily until I find a permanent replacement," he told her just as her hand moved up and wrapped around his considerable length. Slowly, she began to pump him, and before long, he was fully hard. "But I should warn you," he moaned. "I may not have another place for you to rule for a while. I'm making a move on Westeros, but …" He was cut off by her.
"Westeros?" she asked confused. "I didn't think you were going to invade the Westerosi."
"I don't intend to invade. Westeros is destroying itself just fine without my help. I'll I need to do is wait for the right opportunities and give it a gentle nudge. When it all falls apart, I'll be there to pick up the pieces, and the smallfolk will be begging me to rule," he exposed the jist of his plan to her. Dany was quiet for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to nestle her dripping slit. The moment he touched her, his fingers became soaked in her warm juices. Up and down he stroked her soft, hairless lips. Dany's legs parted without her brain's input. Her body was trained to unquestioningly accept his pleasure. However, when he rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit, Daenerys moaned loudly and came.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Dany was too busy thinking about Harold's words to react to the effect that he had on her young body. 'He is going after Westeros,' she thought to herself. He would achieve his goal … Of that, she was certain. He was smart and powerful, and there was no one strong enough to stand in his way. The only question was when. Dany imagined herself sitting on the Iron Throne, ruling Westeros as his wife. 'That is where I belong. That is my destiny. That is my right by birth,' she told herself. She was suddenly pulled from her thoughts when his fingers began toying with her clit. Dany threw her head back and moaned loudly. Beside her, Myrcella began to stir.
She watched as her best friend opened her eyes and blinked a few times before rolling onto her side. Myrcella then saw what was going on between the pair and sat up. Her long, blonde hair was messy, but Harry thought she looked very sexy.
"Again?" she sleepily asked. "He already had us both three times tonight," she said, rubbing her eyes. Myrcella watched as Harry got into position, spread Dany's legs open, and thrust into her. Dany moaned deeply, and her back arched.
"Make it four," Myrcella saw him smirk. The young girl huffed over the fact that she hadn't been woken up to play. "Want to join?" he asked. Myrcella nodded and crawled over to him, and she let her hands caress his muscled belly and chest while he thrust into her friend. Looking down between her legs, Mycella could see that Dany's clit was fully engorged. Reaching down, she placed her fingers on the little nub and started moving them in circles. Dany moaned loudly, obviously liking what she was doing. A hand suddenly cupped her ass, making Myrcella jump slightly. His hand was cupping nearly her entire cheek, and he squeezed it before his fingers dipped between her legs. Mycella moaned as his fingers spread her damp lips.
She could hear his grunts getting louder and louder with every thrust. Harold often complimented them both on how tight they were. Both girls were very pleased that their bodies were able to bring him such pleasure, and they often giggled about it when alone. There was also a bit of a competition between them. While being fucked by him, they each squeezed him as tightly as they could, trying to get him to cum as fast as possible. Just then, both Harry and Dany moaned together, and she could tell that he was filling her with his seed. Sure enough, a moment later, he pulled out, and Myrcella saw globs of his thick, white cum leaking from her sloppy hole. Harry manhandled her body until her head was between Dany's legs. A hard smack on the ass made Myrcella squeak in pain. She knew what he wanted, so she eagerly gave in. Leaning down, she used the flat of her tongue to scoop up a glob of his cum. Myrcella dutifully swallowed the load just as her taut pussy lips were spread open by his massive cock. Her mouth hung open as she groaned in pleasure. Harold wasted no time. He grabbed and held onto her thin waist tightly and began fucking her harder than she had been fucked all night. Mycella was continuously moaning into Dany's pussy as her own was being reshaped to fit his gargantuan size. She gripped Dany's thighs and squeezed them hard before collapsing onto her wet pussy. Her mouth was now pressed against Dany's wet slit, and it seemed that she didn't want to let the opportunity pass her by. Dany grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face in as Harry hit that special place deep inside of her. Myrcella cried out and began lapping at the wet pussy against her mouth. She was licking and slurping the wetness, breathing heavily, and then crying out as her pussy slammed shut around his thrusting cock. Not a second later, she received her own creamy load. Myrcella wasn't sure how long the three were going at it, but she wouldn't wake up the next day until late in the afternoon.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Chapter 57
"Remember what I said, Arya. Don't try to use your strength against your opponent. In your case, your strength is your weakness. Use your speed. Find your opponents' weak points and exploit them," Harry instructed, pushing her away and causing her to stumble back and nearly fall.
Arya's eye narrowed, and he lunged forward as quick as a cat, hacking and slashing. She quickly grew frustrated. She had never landed a single hit on him. He said that her speed was her greatest advantage, but he was twice as fast as her. Growling angrily, she jabbed her needle-like sword directly into the middle of his torso, but all he did was turn to the side and watch it pass by, hitting nothing but air. CLUNK! "Aaack!" she cried out when he womped her on the top of the head with the broadside of his wooden training sword. Arya quickly stepped back, rubbing the top of her tender head.
"Remain calm in battle. Anger will cloud your mind and alter your judgment," he smirked. As she stared at the handsome face that, at that moment, she both loved and hated equally, she had a wicked thought. Running toward him, instead of attacking, she jumped into his arms and kissed him deeply. She moaned into his mouth, pressing her small body against his. Taken by surprise, his grip on her body slackened, and her body slid down until her booted feet touched the floor.
THUNK! "Aaaack!" he cried out when she kicked him in the shin. She squealed in happiness as he hobbled around before bending over to rub his throbbing shin. He looked up at her with a glare before his mouth twisted into a smile. A chuckle left his lips.
"That was a smart move. However, I wouldn't suggest using it in battle," he said, still chuckling. Arya laughed along with him, rubbing the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "I think that's enough practice for today," he told her. Arya nodded in response. "Go wash up, and when you come out of that room, I want to see you wearing one of those pretty dresses that I had made for you back at home," he said, laying down on her bed and relaxing.
"I don't like dresses," she stated stubbornly as she put Needle away.
"You will have a lifetime of doing things that you do not like. Consider this the first," he sighed as his head hit the pillow.
"Harold!" she complained again. Harry turned to her.
"Your sister wears them, and from what I gather, she adores them. And I must say, she looks great in them."
"Yes, but, Sansa is stupid," she argued, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Just go!" he amusedly bellowed, pointing to the door that led into the bathing and changing room. Arya grumbled and stomped off. Harry closed his eyes for a little nap, and he didn't open them until he heard the wooden door squeak back open.
He almost laughed when he saw that she was covering her chest with one arm while trying to keep the slits in her dress from flaring with the other. Her dresses were similar in style to Melisandre's with the plunging neckline and double slits that went from the hips, all the way down. As always, the older women in society hated the newest fashions while the pretty, young women, who could pull off the look, wanted desperately to update their wardrobes. Arya's weren't cheap copies though. They were made from high-quality spider silk straight from one of his many silk farms in Sothoryos. The liquid-like material hugged the body and practically shimmered in the light.
"Come over here," he lightly ordered, and Arya quickly stepped up to Harry, who was still sitting on the edge of her bed. Harry seemed to hold power over the Stark women. When he ordered, they followed without question. By then, they had completely thrown their lot in with his. A smart move, Harry thought. He reached up and gently pulled her arms away from her chest. The thin material was nearly skin-tight and hugged her body in all the right ways. Her breasts were still on the smallish side, barely a handful, and he could see the little bumps in the material where he knew her nipples to be. Her entire cleavage was now on display, along with most of her stomach and belly button. The neckline ended just below her navel. The two slits in the long, flowing skirt showed off her pale, smooth legs. With a cheeky smile, Harry placed his hand on her calf and slowly eased his hand up the back of her leg. He made sure to tickle the skin behind her knee. As he did, he heard the shuddering gasp leave her lips. His fingertips caressed the back of her thigh, and he smelled the faint scent of her arousal. He then used his other hand to do the same with her other leg. He could feel Arya's body trembling with either need or nervousness … He wasn't sure. Harry looked up and saw her staring down at him in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to be treating her in such a way. He knew that she was sensitive about her looks from childhood bullying. No doubt, she thought that he would never be interested in Horseface Arya. However, being on her own for so long had made her more confident. He could tell that by the way she sometimes subtly flirted with him … or at least Arya's version of flirting. Like the kiss she had given him earlier … There was no way that she would have done that had she not been trained by the Faceless Men. They instilled confidence in her, whether she knew it or not.
"You look beautiful, Arya," he told her kindly. Arya blushed deeply and turned her head in embarrassment. "I'm glad to see that you took my advice and are keeping your skin nice and smooth." Harry's fingers crept a little more inward so that his fingertips were gliding up and down her inner thighs. The smell of her wet pussy was growing stronger.
"Y-You are?" she asked with a slight stutter. Her confidence still needed a bit of work.
"Of course," Harry teased. "What if a boy suddenly threw you on the bed and tore this little dress right off of your body? You'd want to look as enticing to him as possible … Wouldn't you?"
"I s-suppose," she shakily answered.
"There is, however, one problem with your attire," he stated, looking her over.
"Wha…," she began but was cut off by Harry. He reached up and grabbed her underwear at the waistline. He then slowly began to drag them down her thighs.
"These dresses are made to be worn over your naked body," he said, pulling them down past her knees. As he did, they dropped down and pooled around her ankles. He helped her step out of them while she held the slits closed in a panic.
"But everyone will see me down there!" she squealed nervously. Harry shook his head.
"The weight of the silk will keep you covered … except, of course, in a strong wind. But in such weather, you would likely be wearing something besides a dress," he explained.
The scent of her pussy was strong now. He could smell how aroused the young woman was. Harry was surprised that she wasn't dripping down her thighs.
"Though, Sansa enjoys the fact that her dress might blow up at any moment. The thought thrills her," Harry smiled, caressing Arya's thighs a little harder now. "You wouldn't understand it since you're still young and inexperienced when it comes to men. Thankfully, that is a problem that I am more than happy to fix."
The Dread Lord of Essos
Arya couldn't believe what was transpiring. Harold stood up, as tall and handsome as ever, and began to ease the dress down her body. The gray dress was so tight that it practically peeled off of her. Her embarrassment went into overdrive when her small breasts were exposed to him. She saw that he was looking down, and he could surely see how hard her nipples were. She supposed that her breasts weren't the worst thing about her body. Sure, they were small, but thankfully, they were still growing. At least they were symmetrical, positioned close together, and were quite perky. Her nipples weren't large, about the size of a silver Stag, and they were a pleasant color of pink. All in all, things could be worse for her in that particular department, but as he lowered and took her dress with him, her heart began to pound mercilessly in her chest.
Her belly was now completely uncovered, and she nearly fainted when he leaned in and kissed her belly button. His hands were gripping her hips tightly, sending a whirlwind of dirty thoughts through her mind. She was throbbing between her legs in a way that she had never felt. She had obviously had crushes on a few older men when she was younger … that was entirely normal, but the thought of them never made her body feel the way that Harold did. Her dress was further peeled down her body and over her hips. His eyes were on her lower belly, and after one last tug of the material, her dress pooled at her feet, and her entire lower half was on full display. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, and he cupped her cheeks in each hand. A hard squeeze made her jump. "I can see that your legs aren't the only thing that's perfectly smooth," she heard him tease. Her face burned hot, and she wanted nothing more than to cover her eyes. Thankfully, she refrained. Arya didn't want to seem like some little girl who couldn't handle a man like him.
Again, he kissed her belly button, but this time, his lips didn't stop. They continued down her belly until he was laying soft kisses on her hairless mound. It was Sansa who recommended that she remove her hair down there. She said that men love women who are completely smooth between their legs. From the way Harold was kissing her thighs and nuzzling her mound with the tip of his nose, Arya could see that maybe her older sister was correct. She would try and remember to thank her at some point, though she was a bit too busy at the moment. Suddenly, Harold gripped her cheeks hard, and she felt them spread apart. Cool air rushed over her asshole and searing genitals, sending a shiver down her body. "Are you cold?" she heard him ask. Before she could answer, he continued.
"Don't worry. I'll heat you up," he said, scooping her into his arms. Arya squeaked and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bridal carried her to her bed. After setting her down, he went on to remove the last bits of her clothing. He untied her fancy, leather boots that went with the dress and pulled them off of her feet. As her socks went flying to the opposite side of the room, Arya now found herself nude on her bed with her dream man hovering over her.
Arya knew what was about to happen, or she thought she did, and while no girl was ever completely sure if they were ready for such things, she was as ready as she would ever be. All she had to do was give him a clear sign that she wanted him to continue. She did so by reaching up and beginning to unbutton his shirt while he looked into her dark brown eyes. Once the last button was undone, his shirt opened up, revealing the body of a god. Arya couldn't help but stare at the rippling muscles of his chest and stomach. 'I could wash my clothes on his stomach muscles!' she thought, amazed at the sight. Without thinking, her hands reached out and touched his chest. She let her fingers glide across his warm skin until she was tracing every muscle in his stomach. He then took his shirt off and stood up. She watched with bated breath as he took the rest of his clothes off. When his trousers were lowered, she gaped at the size of his thing. It sprang up angrily and looked to be about the size of her forearm. She swallowed loudly, wondering if that thing would tear her in half. He stood over her in a hulking manner, stroking his long, thick cock while looking down at her. He must have seen the nervousness plastered across her face.
"Have you ever been with a man?" he asked her. Arya quickly shook her head. Her mouth was unable to produce a sound. "I didn't think so," he went on. "Just relax and I'll take care of you," he promised. Arya nodded.
Her heart was thumping wildly when he crawled onto the bed, his massive cock waggling around. His hands found her thin ankles, and he slid them all the way up her legs until he reached her knees. All it took was a slight push for him to spread them apart. There was nothing left for her to hide. He could now see everything. He could see her puffy lips completely bereft of hair, he could see her little, pink slit that was shiny with wetness, and he could see her clit, which was swollen with arousal. His hands crept ever higher, and they finally stopped at the highest point of her inner thighs. His thumbs began gently stroking her soft lips. Arya's hands gripped her blanket tightly as she wondered what would be coming next. Harold leaned down and kissed her stomach, then he kissed it a little higher. When he kissed the bottom of one of her breasts, Arya moaned and arched her back.
"Your sister does the same thing when I kiss her breasts," he seductively told her. Arya already knew what was going on between him and Sansa. The shocking part was that he was doing the same to their mother. Harry kissed the area between her breasts, and then he kissed the tops of each one.
"The last time I had your mother and sister in the same bed, I was thinking that the only thing that would make it better was if you were there," he said with a slight smile. Arya's eyes went wide, and she gasped out loud. That was certainly some new information. He would take them both at the same time? She didn't notice his hand slipping between her legs until his finger stroked her wet slit. The moment he touched her, Arya's eyes fluttered, and she cried out in desperation. Her lower half began squirming as she rubbed herself against his fingers.
"I hope the next time, you'll join us," he stated, giving her a salacious smile before leaning over and capturing her lips in a kiss. Arya greedily accepted his kiss and almost instantly deepened it.
She opened her legs as wide as possible, letting him touch her in any way that he desired. Arya had touched herself before, but it never felt as good as the way he was touching her now. He knew exactly what he was doing as his finger dipped into her, and then he used her wetness as a lubricant when he pressed his finger against her hard clit and began rubbing it. Arya moaned deeply into his mouth as he forced her arms above her head. Breaking the kiss a little too soon for her liking, she lay there breathing heavily as he kissed her neck. He then kissed down to her breasts where he took his hand from between her legs and palmed her small, perky tits. He squeezed them, making Arya squirm. It felt incredible when he flicked his thumbs over the hard tips of her nipples, causing pleasure to race down her spine. It got even better when he placed kisses around her little, pink nipples before taking one into his mouth.
"Ohhh!" she squeaked as his tongue traced the edge of her areola while his hands groped her other breast. He then let her nipple go with a wet pop before placing a kiss right on the sensitive tip. Arya couldn't help but pull on his hair and force his mouth to her other nipple. He gently bit down on the hard tip, giving it a little tug before letting snap back into place. He then licked it hard and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue wiggling against the tip the entire time. Down below, her pussy was gushing juices. She could feel how wet she was. The blanket underneath her was soaked in her juices.
Eventually, he let go of her breasts and began making his way down her belly. Her hands were still gripping his hair tightly when he reached her belly button. He laid soft kisses all around it as he placed his hands on her thighs. She could feel him applying pressure to her legs, keeping them open for what was to come. Arya didn't have to wait long. A moment later, his mouth was kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her hairless mound. She whined pathetically and bucked her hips, wanting more of herself in his mouth. Harold, however, was very strong and was easily able to control her body's position. He further teased her by kissing her thighs and licking the wetness that was streaked down them. "Harold, pleeease!" she heard herself beg. Hearing his delighted chuckle, she wasn't ready for when his lips attached themselves to her hard, throbbing clit.
As soon as he applied suction, Arya became overwhelmed, her head began spinning, and she cried out while her body bucked and thrashed. As before, Harold had her pinned and was easily able to continue sucking on her little nub. At some point, Arya's entire lower half was up in the air. Her legs were swinging wildly as he pressed his face down between her legs. She could feel his tongue everywhere. She wasn't sure what was better … when he lapped at her clit, when he penetrated her with his tongue, or when he tickled the rim of her asshole with the tip of his tongue. All of it was utterly wonderful, she thought, and she hoped that he would perform such acts many more times in the future. After she had came several times on his tongue, Harold had decided that he had waited long enough.
Arya found herself straddling him, who was flat on his back. She could feel his magnificent girth underneath her. It was laying flat against her wet slit. She experimented by grinding her hips against it and found the pleasure to be exquisite. Biting her lower lip, she bucked and rolled her hips, smearing her juices all along his absurdly long shaft. His hands were busy stroking the smooth skin of her thighs and occasionally feeling up her jiggling breasts. Seeing the smoky look in his eyes, Arya knew that it was time. He pulled her flat against him so that her breasts were mashed against his hard chest. One of his powerful arms was wrapped around her thin waist, keeping her body pinned in place. With his other hand, he reached down and placed the tip of his cock against her tight, little opening. Burying her face in his neck, she gasped as she felt her lips forced open, and the head of his monster slowly sank into her. Arya whimpered a bit from the sudden pain of being stretched. Then, Harold lovingly caressed her bare back, and suddenly, the pain vanished. Instead, her body was filled with intense pleasure, and the deeper he sank into her, the better it felt. Arya lightly bit down on his shoulder as he hit a spot in her that had never been touched. As he hit it, she felt her inner walls squeeze him so tightly that going any deeper was difficult. At least it would have been for someone other than him.
Strong hands cupped her ass and squeezed while his cock finally hit the deepest part of her body. Arya didn't even bother trying to stop herself from squirming. The sensation of her hard nipples rubbing against his skin felt wonderful, and it was even better with him inside of her. With there being no pain, he didn't have to wait for her to get used to his size. He just held her waist tightly and began thrusting into her. Arya's mind went blank the moment he truly began fucking her. Instantly, she began cumming so hard that she was afraid that she might pass out. She was quite glad that she didn't, because she would have missed the greatest moments of pleasure in her short life. "Oh … It feels …" she huffed out, her warm breath hitting his skin.
"Good?" he finished for her in an amused voice. Arya nodded and cried out as her orgasm kept getting stronger. The sounds of her penetration were getting louder and wetter. The clapping of his hips striking her ass was steady and brutal. Her insides were hugging him so tightly that he shouldn't have been able to thrust into her so fast, but the vast amount of pussy juice practically pouring from her slit was making her incredibly slick.
"Fuck yourself on my cock," he ordered, and Arya acted without thinking. Her hips began bouncing up and down, slowly and unsurely. Harold, thankfully, grabbed her hips and showed her how to properly move them. Within minutes, she was expertly bouncing her hips while her chest lay flat against his. For some reason, she found this even more pleasurable. He wasn't the one giving her pleasure. She was giving him pleasure now. She found the concept very appealing as she worked his cock for all it was worth. There was no resistance. Her pussy was so wet that her cunt glided up and down the skin of his shaft. Gaining confidence, she used her hands to push off his chest. Sitting up straight, she started rolling her hips in a way that best gave her pleasure. Her cheeks were flushed, and little beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. Harold's hands glided up her sides, and his fingers tickled her underarms, which was much more sensual than she thought possible. That small action finally set her off for good. Her pussy clamped down harder than it ever had. Her insides were fluttering and milking his cock while she squealed and bounced on his lap. Her small tits were bouncing until he cupped them and began tweaking her nipples. Arya's body shuddered and spasmed. She then collapsed forward, and Harold happily caught her against his chest. It only took a few more thrusts into her cumming pussy until she felt him begin to fill her with his seed.
Arya couldn't help but giggle against his chest, even while she was being seeded. She no longer felt like ugly, old Arya Horseface. She finally felt like a real woman. Of course, Harold was happy to treat her as such. Before she could recover, she found herself on her hands and knees taking his fat cock again and again.