The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 25

Titus Peake

He could see the outlines of the defenders standing atop the walls of King’s Landing, no doubt trembling at the might of his army marching upon them. Lord Tyrell had temporarily given him command of ten thousand men to lay siege to the city, expecting for Paxter Redwyne to eventually show up and take command when his fleet arrived.

But there would be no need for Titus to relinquish command of so many men, as he would take the capital of Westeros by force before the Redwyne fleet even entered Blackwater Bay. Some might’ve called him hasty or even foolish, maybe arrogant, but Titus Peake was simply confident in his own ability.

“It this truly a wise decision, my Lord?” One of the weaker Reach Lords asked at his side, clearly not expecting bloodshed so early on. The nearby knights and Lords seemed to share his sentiment, wary about his course of action, as they leaned in to hear his response.

He could understand the men’s hesitation, as they had likely expected to simply dig trenches and build fortifications to prevent anyone from coming in and out of King’s Landing, before waiting for them to surrender once their granaries ran dry. And beyond that, the men were also wary of Eddard Stark, the infamous Quiet Wolf who was the strategist who brought the Rebellion to victory at its most crucial battles, being at the Trident and Stoney Sept.

The man who was the Hand of the King was more legend than man these days, his infamy and achievements seeming so far beyond that of a normal Lord. But Titus knew the truth about who Ned Stark really was.

“Eddard Stark is an aging Lord, long past his prime from when he was in the Rebellion. He has been worn ragged by the northern cold, and even further by having to clean up Robert Baratheon’s mess as his Hand.” He spoke loudly and confidently. “His days of fighting Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident are long past, a time where no man could stand before Robert Baratheon’s mighty war hammer and come out alive. And it is without King Robert, that will cause Lord Stark to fall.”

“I-Is such a thing true, my Lord? Have we truly been overestimating Lord Stark this entire time?”

Titus couldn’t help but smirk, as his men’s spirits returned. Eddard Stark had only gotten through the Rebellion with sheer luck at his back, standing upon the shoulders of greater men in order to bolster his own reputation.

And with his march south to become Hand of the King, the Lord of Winterfell had brought that northern barbarity with him to King’s Landing, with his Second Hour of the Wolf—as the smallfolk had begun to call it—which ended with the city decimated at his hands. It showed just who he really was, not some knowledgeable or crafty genius who could be a Maester in a different life, but a bloodthirsty barbarian no different than some wildling north of the Wall.

The Quiet Wolf that was Eddard Stark was a carefully crafted facade, a man who stood in the shadow of Robert Baratheon to fake his own competence. But Titus Peake was truly competent, where Eddard Stark was not. He had read all the books, and then gone to the Citadel to read even more, learning thousands of years worth of tactics and warfare history to prepare himself. And now his time had come, the time to elevate House Peake to greatness within the Reach.

“Indeed, for Lord Stark is nothing more than a lost wolf wandering south of the Neck!” His proclamation was not born from arrogance, but simple fact. “If he is wise, he will hide out inside the Red Keep, for this city shall fall to our might in mere days!”

Titus knew that Paxter Redwyne was on his way with the Reach’s fleet, and with him would come a complete blockade of the city along with even more men to bolster their own numbers. It would ensure the smallfolk would starve, besieged on all sides with no resources coming in or out. And if their own men-at-arms didn’t manage to take the walls when that came, then the city’s smallfolk would do it in their haste to escape.

Our victory is already assured. His grin showed teeth then, as he sat upon his horse overlooking the Gate of the Gods. Already, men were carrying ladders while archers moved forwards towards the walls. This is the end for you, Lord Stark.

Arrows rained down on the attacking men from the walls, with screams splitting the air as the defenders poured oil and rocks onto the Reachmen below. Meanwhile, a dozen men carried a battering ram while being protected from all sides by heavy shields as they approached the main gate. If Eddard Stark was smart he would’ve reinforced and barricaded the gate already—

BANG

The gate slammed open, Titus blinked, and suddenly a horde of cavalry rushed out to meet his own troops head on. The men-at-arms handling the battering ram were dead in an instant, followed by the troops at the base of the wall who were caught completely unaware.

“W-WHAT?!”

“E-ENEMY ATTACK!”

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK?!”

The mounted heavy cavalry only continued to stream out from the gate, complete overrunning and demolishing his men’s formations who got in their way. For their part, no one had expected an attack, and as such they weren’t prepared to deal with it.

While it wasn’t rare for men under siege to sally out and attack, to do so early on like this was completely unexpected. Especially from someone like Eddard Stark, who was supposed to be one of the most cautious men in Westeros.

We have 10,000 men, just what are they trying to accomplish? Lord Tyrell had trusted him with a tenth of the Reach’s might, which should’ve been more than enough to handle whatever meager forces King’s Landing had at its disposal.

“Have our men surround and kill them!” He ordered. “This is nothing more than the cries from a cornered rat!”

The men around him chanted in approval, charging forward to carry out his orders and slay whatever men that had been foolish enough to leave the safety of King’s Landing’s walls.

It was as the reinforcements he sent made their way to the front that a new armored figure appeared. He wore heavy steel armor, much nicer in quality than even Titus could afford. The man was clearly a Lord, and wielded a gigantic greatsword made of Valyrian Steel. Is that Lord Stark?!

The current Hand of the King didn’t come alone, as a hundred large northmen also clad in heavy armor followed their liege. They swept through the Reachmen meant to deal with them as if they weren’t even there, barely slowing their stride as Lord Stark’s massive greatsword cut men down as if cutting chaff. In the background, he could see the banner of House Stark hoisted high, the direwolf making Titus feel like he was prey.

But the northmen didn’t chase down any men-at-arms who fled, nor go on to attack any nearby formations. Instead they followed Lord Stark, who’s mount was pointed directly towards his own headquarters.

It was in that moment that Titus Peake realized that Lord Stark was heading straight for him, and that this wan’t some haphazard attack. Eddard Stark had seen him, studied the defenses around his headquarters, and knew that he could take his head with such a bold attack.

He turned to order more men to attack, only to see that there were no more men nearby. He had spread his ten thousand men around the city to blockade it completely, meaning he had only a few thousand soldiers nearby that could possibly come to his aid. A fact that Lord Stark must have realized.

“M-My Lord, you need to flee!” Clearly his men had realized this as well, as the Stark lord got closer.

He’s just some northern barbarian. Titus reminded himself, hut his words rang hollow this time, unlike earlier. Eddard Stark is supposed to be cautious, and would never do something risky like this!

He reached for his sword, his hand shaking as the thunder of hooves got closer. Titus had thought himself untouchable, having studied warfare too much to be taken off guard, and had believed the lies he had told himself about the power of the Reach.

He finally unsheathed his sword, holding it up right as Eddard Stark reached him. Ice, the ancestral Valyrian steel blade of House Stark, met his own blade, and cut right through it. Titus Peake only had time for his eyes to widen at the sheer strength of House Stark’s Lord, before his head was dispatched from his shoulders.

/////

Hadrian Snow

As being one of the first arrivals with the Lannister contingent, along with being the sister of Lord Tywin, Genna was afforded her own room within Harrenhal’s keep.

The fireplace crackled softly in the background, a window overlooking the grounds bringing in a cool breeze. Candles sat in the dark corners of the room, making the atmosphere more fitting to the deed they were about to commit.

The aging blonde beauty sat on the edge of the bed, her body bare to him and ripe for fucking. Harry couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over her like a hungry animal, shamelessly eyeing her naked tits and wide hips. She wasn’t what he would describe as fat, instead having more skin on her bones that came with advanced age, making her hips thick and her midsection meaty. It also increased the size of her more enticing assets, with child-bearing hips which supported a fat ass, along with huge breasts that were likely the biggest he’d seen, despite their sag.

He had never fucked a woman this much older than him before, nor a woman who was married with children like this. Perhaps it was a sign of how much he had changed since his old life, as he didn’t hesitate to take up Genna’s offer.

In fact, his cock only throbbed harder beneath his tenting loincloth, as the Lannister MILF continued to eye his straining erection with a wicked look in her eye. She moved sensationally, divesting him of his undergarments before excitedly grasping his shaft with an inadequate hand.

“Who knew a bastard could grow so big?” She commented, all while staring at his manhood. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel my husband again after taking this thing!”

If anything, his size only seemed to make her more excited, as she pumped and felt up his cock in a way that made him groan.

“Ugh, is this truly alright, my Lady?” He couldn’t help but ask, feeling some of his old sensibilities returning. For so long he had tried to stay proper while roaming the depraved world that was Westeros, but clearly he was failing.

She snorted in contempt. “My husband is weak, he’s nothing compared to you! Listen, bastard, I need a real man to fuck me tonight!”

Fuck. He was powerless to resist, feeling like a child before this older woman as she guided him to the bed before mounting him. Her curviness made him want to devour her, to lay against her thick body and drown himself in those massive pillowy tits.

His cock throbbed like a hot iron rod, his head sinking into her core as Genna gasped. He stretched her wide, then wider still, inch after inch sinking into her cunt before he began conquering untouched territory.

All the while her eyes got wider, her mouth becoming ever more agape. He could feel her cunt squeeze him, fluids gushing out of her stretched pussy before running down his still-exposed shaft and landing on the bed below.

“Gods! This is what I needed!” Genna moaned wantonly. “A powerful man with a big beefy cock to fuck me real good!”

“Ugh.” Harry groaned through grit teeth. “Are all Lannister women such whores?”

His fingers dug into her round bum, gripping the doughy flesh that was lined by wrinkles yet still big and fat. He began to move her up and down, taking more and more of his cock as he barreled into her at a faster pace.

“When confronted with a man like you, how could we resist?” Genna gasped while sweat began to roll down her brow. “Even my bitch of a niece, Cersei, wouldn’t be able to resist a cock this big!”

It was like a switch was flipped at the mention of the queen, as Harry began fucking the older woman for real. He wanted her to feel it, to dominate her, to make her feel weak beneath his might and punish her for cheating on her husband. Not only had she shit talked her husband while fucking him, but even talked bad about the Queen, her own family.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

“Yes, YES! Give it to me! Ruin me for my husband!” Genna screamed in pleasure, enjoying the roughness.

His cock only got harder within her, twitching madly as his balls throbbed in demand underneath. He was going to fill her up unlike never before, make it impossible for any other man to come close to this pounding.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She chanted against his ear, her body pressed flush against him from the front. He could feel the wonderfulness that was her heavy breasts against his chest, jiggling and swinging up and down with each thrust. “S-So good!”

“RAAAGH!” Harry came with a roar, slamming her down with a brutal thrust before unleashing himself deep within her. She fell flat against him then, sweat coating her hair and forehead as the strength seemed to have left her.

“I might have overestimated myself.” She sagged against him, exhausted. “Even in my prime, I would’ve been no match for you.”

Harry didn’t reply, instead maneuvering her around with his strength. She gasped as his muscles bulged and flexed, lifting her clean off his cock and into the air as if she was weightless, before putting her on all fours.

Genna’s arms and legs were too weak to take it doggy style, as she pushed several pillows under herself for support. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, her green eyes wide as he rested his shaft on her back.

Her ass ballooned against his thighs, long golden hair falling down her back, with his huge hands gripping her plump hips. His cock looked massive from this angle, as he soon pulled back and lined it up with her core. Its girth spread her lips wide as he entered inch by inch, providing him an enticing view.

The older woman moaned and gasped with each inch, despite having already taken his cock a few minutes before. He wasn’t gentle, and soon he was pulling his hips far back and pushing her body forward before slamming her ass against his muscular thighs.

PLAP PLAP PLAP

Genna was screaming at this point, her voice bouncing off the stone walls of her room as he pounded her. But he didn’t let up, and only fucked harder, his muscles burning from the speed of each thrust.

Harry leaned in then so his body was pressed against her back as he knelt over top of her. It was a position for breeding, of a man who had utterly dominated his woman. He reached around to her to massage and fondle those massive tits of her, his hips continuing to jerk as he thrusted into her core.

He was taking her, fucking her to her absolute limit, using her body selfishly for his own gain. But Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care that she was so much older than him. Nor did he care about the fact that she was married. All he cared about in that moment was the pleasure he could extract from her buxom body.

Her body was too exhausted to go on when he finally deposited his heavy load, filling her up wickedly and as it pooled out of her core when he dumped her to the bed in a heap of limbs. Harry just shrugged at sight before dressing himself well enough to leave the keep unnoticed, intent on getting back to his own tent and seeing his girls.

Battle would be upon them soon, and it was better that he spend his time fucking than letting his nerves get the best of him.

/////

Stannis Baratheon

Maester Cressen coordinated with the various servants as they arranged the pieces on the painted table. His brother, Renly, Tywin Lannister, Robb Stark, Ned Stark, and Jaime Lannister all had their positions marked, with each marker symbolizing the movements of tens of thousands of men.

“If we are going to make a move, the best time would be now, my Lord.” Davos suggested quietly from his side.

Stannis ignored him, eyeing the markers for Renly and Tywin Lannister’s respective armies positioned next to the God’s Eye. If the reports they were getting were accurate, Tywin had assembled a massive host with Robb Stark and Edmure Tully at his back as they marched south from Harrenhal. They were soon to meet Renly’s own large host, assembled from both the Stormlands and the Reach, and would likely clash in the largest battle Westeros had seen since the Long Night.

There was also the men left by Renly to lay siege to King’s Landing, numbering only a couple thousand in number. Stannis couldn’t help but snort in derision, seeing how much his brother had underestimated Ned Stark. As much as he despised the Stark Lord, Ned Stark truly had a mind for combat and warfare. It wasn’t Robert or Jon Arryn who truly won the war for the Iron Throne, but rather Ned Stark’s mind when it came to strategy.

“No, we need to see how things play out first.” Stannis replied.

As much as he wanted to assemble his men and descend on King’s Landing, he simply couldn’t risk acting too hastily in a time like this. So much would depend on the coming days, and who would emerge victorious from the battle between Renly and Tywin Lannister.

If Tywin was to win at the God’s Eye, then King Tommen’s position would be practically unassailable. However, if was to lose, then it would depend on Ned Stark or even Jaime Lannister to make the next move.

He looked around the chamber then, past the surrounding servants and advisors as he looked for the Red Priestess. “Where is Melisandre?”

“I believe she’s with your wife, my Lord.” One of the servants nearby replied.

“Bring her here, I require her council.”

He would need Melisandre’s guidance, especially now when the times were so volatile. One wrong move, and Stannis would lose everything he had worked so hard for.

He eyed the table then, taking note of a marker further south, off the coast of the Stormlands. Paxter Redwyne’s fleet would soon pass by Dragonstone, headed to blockade King’s Landing in his brother’s foolish attempt to oppose Ned Stark.

Perhaps it was time he finally got his revenge on House Redwyne.

Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18