The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 21

Hadrian Snow

Infiltrating one of the few impregnable castles of Westeros was child’s play for someone with his skill set.

It was not hard to find a clear vantage point that overlooked the Eyrie from afar, and rather than having to lie or sneak his way through the Gates of the Moon, before then ascending the Giant’s Lance without being seen, Harry instead opted to use the magical abilities of his past life to get through. Apparition was a useful skill he seldom utilized, the reasoning for which being that he was embarrassingly bad at magical transportation.

A crack of apparition and he landed in one of the Eyrie’s infamous sky cells in a crumbled heap, throwing up his morning meal as he heaved for breath. In an offhand comment, Sirius Black had once told him that the Potter family was cursed to be terrible at magical transportation. It seems that I’m still pants at apparating, even in this new life…

But the discomfort was a small price to pay to accomplish the impossible. From there he transfigured his outfit to line up with that of an accomplished knight of the Vale. Rich, ornate fabrics and tailored robes that could only belong to a knight that had won several tourneys adorned him then. He would fit in perfectly with the stuffy crowd that made up the Eyrie’s court, as no one would dare suspect someone dressed as finely as he was.

As for his actual appearance, he didn’t bother changing his facial features. The name ‘Hadrian Snow’ might be known around the Kingdoms as being Ned Stark’s right hand man, but his actual face wasn’t something many people had actually seen. Combined with his new alias, and ‘Ser Harry of the Vale’ was just one among many knights seeking glory.

A mutter of “Alohomora.” and the door to the sky cell he was in opened, and Harry was soon making his way through the castle’s ornate interior and towards the high hall. More guards than was expected lined the way, a clear sign of Lysa Arryn’s newfound paranoia, and he made note that the woman would be nearly impossible to reach through conventional means.

Soon he was in the High Hall of the Eyrie, mingling among a horde of pretentious Lords and knights, just like back in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. Harry made his way through the crowd and to the edge of it inconspicuously without attracting undue attention, before he slowly moved along the side of the hall, staying in the shadows of grand pillars.

At the front of the hall, Lysa Arryn sat on a throne made of weirwood, symbolically in place of her son, Robin, who sat on his mother’s lap. The boy was sickly and thin, and Harry couldn’t help but pity him. For her part, Lysa reminded him of the tales of the Mad King, her appearance unwashed and unkempt, her eyes wide and bloodshot.

“Starks and Lannisters did this! They killed my husband, and even killed poor Petyr as well!” The woman was in the middle of some rant as he listened in. “It’s all one big ploy for them, an attempt to take over the Kingdom and the Eyrie! They even had Robb Stark marry Myrcella, a girl who’s more Lion than Stag!”

“I want the Bloody Gate sealed again!” Lysa continued, fingernails digging into the carved armrest. “Double the guards! Double the watch! No ravens from King’s Landing! None! NONE!”

“No birds Mummy!” Robin Arryn gleefully cried. “Shoot them down!”

“Yes! Kill the Ravens!” Lysa ordered. “I don’t want to hear whatever Ned Stark has to say!”

A couple people left the hall as her rant ended, likely to carry out her orders, while others remained still and silent. It was like nobody wanted to draw attention to themselves, too worried that the madwoman would see them as an enemy.

For his part, Harry couldn’t help but stare oddly at the woman. It was hard to believe she was Catelyn Stark’s sister, or even that they were related, as while Ned’s wife had her nasty moments, she would never resort to such madness like Lysa was doing. To Harry, Lysa Arryn reminded him far too much of Umbridge for his liking.

He heard footsteps coming up behind him then, and he tilted his head to see a woman walking over to where he stood in the shadows of the hall.

“Well, you picked a thrilling moment to arrive, ser.”

Her voice was light and amused, a clear contrast to the rest of the place. Harry turned to face her, suddenly finding himself facing a pretty brunette woman. Her brown hair was long and lightly curled, her face spoke of aristocracy with a small nose that went with small curved lips. But it was her body that likely got the most attention for the opposite sex, buxom with huge breasts and wide hips that were begging to be bred. Westeros female clothing was typically stuffy and not seductive in the least, but there was no way a body like hers wouldn’t stand out no matter what she wore.

Her lips upturned as she seemed to notice his meandering gaze, and that was when Harry inclined his head in greeting. “My Lady…”

“Myranda Royce, but you may call me Randa.” She squinted at him. “I haven’t seen you before. And I am sure that I would remember seeing someone as handsome as you.”

“Ser Harry of the Vale. I am newly sworn to Lady Arryn’s service, my Lady.” He lied easily, knowing that it was a good cover to have when Lysa herself was ordering more men to be recruited under the Arryn banner.

“A pity for you.” She spoke in sorrow, eyeing Lysa for a brief moment. “She’s gone full moon-mad. If she asks the knights to leap from the Moon Door to prove their loyalty, she’ll do it with a straight face.”

Harry’s lips twitched before he could stop them, and the woman seemed to notice. He realized that she was testing him, likely trying to see how loose his tongue was. That said, it seemed he had passed her test, and she was clearly delighted.

“Oh, You have humor.” She eyed him up and down, entirely unbothered by the impropriety of such an action. “And you’re better looking than half the bored tin-cans roaming these halls. Gods be good, are you intentionally hiding in the shadows, ser? Or were you hoping to go entirely unnoticed?”

“Unnoticed is preferable, my Lady.” Harry answered carefully.

“A smart man.” She replied. “If you mean to remain in this viper’s nest, ser, you should walk it with eyes wide and allies smartly chosen.”

“And you would claim such a position? As my ally?” Harry asked, being careful in how he observed her. It seemed that Ned was right about the Vale’s nobility becoming wary of Lysa Arryn, as already he was being approached by one noblewoman to act as a spy in her household.

“If you would have me.” She smirked suggestively. “My chambers are on the eastern tower. Should you desire conversation later, then I’ll leave the door unlatched.”

She left then, giving a suggestive sway to her hips as her fat bum shook and rippled underneath her dress. Harry watched her go for a long moment before shaking his head and eyeing the rest of the room. It was hardly the first time a random noblewoman had propositioned him, especially while in court. He was attractive with his noble-like Stark features and strong body, that it happened fairly often in the Red Keep, despite the fact that he was a bastard.

That brought him back to his current dilemma, which was what to do now. He couldn’t risk approaching Lysa or Robin in open court, or trying to get them alone for simple conversation. She was surrounded by too many guards, and was clearly too paranoid to entertain anything a random knight like him had to say.

Instead, he would have to get her alone, likely by sneaking into her chambers in the night. That would mean staying in the keep till after dark, and a certain Lady just offered him a place in her bed. Guess I’ll have to take Randa up on her offer.

/////

Indeed, Myranda’s door was left unlocked, and Harry let himself inside to find the curvy brunette waiting for him. She wore a gray nightgown that hugged her curves erotically, and Harry was left with a much better impression of her figure compared to earlier.

It didn’t take long for things to get started, as the woman eagerly divested herself of her clothes before working to undo his own garments. She was confident and thirsty for sex, and once his cock was out in the open, she gasped in delight before giving it a big lick from balls to tip.

While it wasn’t exactly his preference, there was something about fucking promiscuous overconfident women that made him want to lose control. Myranda Royce was a slut through and through, and he could tell she had probably fucked a hundred knights, Lords, and even girls in her twenty-something years of life. And as if reading his very thoughts, she told him about it.

“I killed the last man I laid in bed with.” She spoke lightly then. “He died as we had sex, the life leaving his eyes as I sat on his cock. Now I fear that I’ll be the one to meet the stranger if you impale me on that thing.”

“I’ll be gentle.” He grunted, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. It was a shame that in his last life he died a virgin fighting Voldemort, as dying from intercourse was a much better way to go out in his opinion.

“Don’t worry.” She got onto her hands and knees before looking at him over her shoulder, giving him a wink. “I want to know what it’s like to take such a massive manhood.”

That just made him harder. He would give her credit for being confident, but Myranda Royce had never experienced someone with his kind of power. Harry could go for hours on end if he wanted to, and had made Val of all people, one of the strongest spearwifes among the wildlings, loose herself in the bedroom and become his bitch.

Margaery Tyrell, Arianne Martell, and even Cersei Lannister had lusted after him in the capital. And he had taken two of them, with the latter woman still to come, and that wasn’t to mention Arianne about to become his wife. Compared to them Myranda was a distraction, a warmer for his cock for his brief stay in the Eyrie.

He pushed the head of his shaft in, making her moan as his sheer girth parter her lips wide.

“G-Gods! I feel like a maiden all over again!”

He kept going, pushing himself deeper and deeper as her arms and legs shook under her. He could tell that she was starting to realize that she was out of her league, and that he would ruin her for other men.

Soon most of his length was inside her, and he gripped her thick hips with strong hands as he pumped in and out of her. It wasn’t sex that was meant to be gentle or reciprocal, but rather the kind a man would have with a whore. He focused on his own pleasure, not caring if she liked it, yet the woman still moaned deliriously.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Sweet Mother it’s so good! You’re cock feels so good in me!” She moaned wantonly. “Every night! I want you to fuck me every night!”

“Fuck, you’re such a whore.” Harry grit out, his thrusts becoming more brutal as he chased his own pleasure.

PLAP PLAP PLAP

His hips clapped against her fat ass, making it bounce and ripple obscenely. Myranda wasn’t nearly as in shape compared to his normal lovers, having more meat on her bones. But Harry didn’t mind, as the views it gave him of her skin rippling were very pleasurable.

She came then, her core squeezing around his cock as he pistoned in and out of her. Juices sprayed out of her stretched cunt and splashed against his crotch, soaking his balls before dripping down onto the bed.

“M-Mother save me…” Myranda got out in a strangled voice. “I’ve never came so hard before…”

“That’s just the first of many to come.” He said quietly. Arrogantly.

She shivered, and then yelped as he gave her a brutal thrust that could’ve blown out a smaller woman’s back. He continued pounding, as her cries got louder and louder, turning into full blow screams as he railed her.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

Harry then flipped Myranda over onto her back, folding her legs before pushing in. From this view he could watch and grope her big tits, and he did so with no remorse. All the while Myranda panted and looked up at him with wild, lust-filled eyes. He could see the want in her gaze plain as day, the desire for him to fill her with seed and leave her walking with a limp for days. And that’s exactly what he did.

He grabbed the brunette’s mouth to stifle her loud moans, not wanting to attract undue attention from any of the castle’s many guards. Lysa Arryn had ordered the men-at-arms doubled after all, even if the place was already bursting at the seems with guards and knights.

That was when Harry began pounding her hard, making her whole body shake as her huge tits bounced up and down on her chest. When his load came, he slammed himself deep into her before his balls contracted and released an ungodly amount of cum.

Myranda Royce shook in front of him, her eyes rolling back into their sockets as if he had set off an orgasmic bomb inside her. He knew then that she would need rest, time to recover from the earthshattering sex, and it would be the perfect opportunity for him to slip away.

He pulled out of her, and she fell limply to the bed, too tired to move or speak, simply staring at him with devoted yet utterly exhausted eyes.

Meanwhile Harry grabbed a flagon of water sitting nearby and downed it all in one go, chugging it down to replenish his thirst. He then put on some of his transfigured robes before turning back to her, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Make sure you’re ready for me when I get back.”

He slipped out of her chambers, applying a dissolusionment charm as he moved. He didn’t want anyone to see him, as the alibi that ‘Ser Harry’ was enjoying Myranda Royce’s company would have to be in place in case anything went wrong.

He slipped through the silent halls, being around the time of the hour of the owl, with only the tired guards for company. The men-at-arms of House Arryn were being run ragged by their madwoman overlord, and unless some dirty Mountain Clansmen descended upon the Eyrie, then their awareness wouldn’t improve for some time.

He had to stun the men standing outside of Lady Arryn’s quarters, and position them in such a way as to make it seem they had fallen asleep at their post. From there he slipped inside Lysa’s personal chambers, and made his way over to where the woman was sleeping in her bed.

“Legilimens.”

Images filled his mind in an instant, with most of them being of Baelish. Lysa and him had been fucking for years, cuckolding Jon Arryn while he stayed in King’s Landing. It was to the point that Harry began to think that Robin was Baelish’s son, but he couldn’t be certain. The boy was weak like Petyr Baelish was, and had some of the same features, but Harry was hardly an expert on such subjects.

Her obsession with Littlefinger was disgusting to Harry, being someone who despised and even killed Baelish, and it made him hate the man even more. Littlefinger had clearly been manipulating her, to the point even Lysa’s dreams included the man, carefully crafting an obsession over many years to ensure she would be fanatically loyal to him. It was why she was fermenting rebellion in the Vale, her mind practically broken by the news of his death, and only kept going by the thought of revenge.

She was past saving. Harry knew that fact almost immediately. It narrowed down his options as all peaceful resolutions were thrown out the metaphorical window, leaving him with only extreme methods.

“Imperio.”

Before anymore damage could be done, the woman would have to be placed under his control. The Imperius curse would suffice during that time, and just like Crouch Jr. controlled his father through the curse in his past life, Harry would do the same for the Lady of the Eyrie.

The coming days would be hell, but already a plan was being formulated in his mind. Perhaps he could send Robin to Ned’s friend, Yohn Royce, to be fostered, and with Robin and the future of the Vale set to be taken care of by someone else, Harry would have Lysa put an end to this rebellion nonsense before arranging an accident for her.

Some people couldn’t be saved, and Ned had been straightforward about having him take down this rebellion swiftly. Better that Lysa disappear and the rebellion ends in an instant, than taking her prisoner and making this whole mess last years.

/////

Ashara Dayne

In some ways, it was even worse than the first war for the Iron Throne. At least then they had time to breathe before Robert’s Rebellion truly began in earnest, time to escape the city and rally, time for the war’s coalitions to form in earnest. Yet now it was nothing but pure chaos, with every Lord’s allegiance being called into question.

King Robert Baratheon’s death hit the realm in the same way his war hammer hit Rhaegar Targaryen’s chest. Normally Ashara would have celebrated his demise, just like anyone from Dorne would, yet not this time. It wasn’t so much a feeling, but rather a sense of precognition felt by every noble and smallfolk alike that war would soon arrive, and that King’s Landing would be the center of it.

The entire city was tearing itself apart at the seams, Lords and smallfolk alike fled in mass, either through the overcrowded port or the city’s gates. The City Watch was being bolstered even further, going as far as to use press gangs to recruit as many able men as possible. The granaries were being stocked as food was raided from homes and nearby farms, with the street of steel working nonstop to produce weapons and armor all night and day.

The Wildfire crisis had been bad. This was even worse. The worst part of it all was the waiting, combined with the terrible lack of information.

For her part, Ashara still didn’t have a clear answer as to how Robert Baratheon died. The first set of rumors claimed Robert and Joffrey were killed by a boar while out hunting, while the second set claimed that it was Renly who murdered them. Both seemed entirely plausible, as Renly was the main instigator of all the chaos.

Renly Baratheon had declared himself King and rode off with the Tyrells in tow after Robert and Joffrey died. This was after he had massacred the Dornish camp, kidnapping Arianne Martell and having his men slay Oberyn Martell. Now he was either on his way to Highgarden or Storm’s End, with it being more than likely he had arranged an alliance with House Tyrell.

A hundred thousand swords would soon descend on them, along with whatever men Renly managed to rally in the Stormlands. That would just leave the other kingdoms to pick sides, with most of them being likely to oppose Renly. As for Dorne, Ashara knew that Arianne was the perfect hostage to use against Doran Martell, keeping them docile and unable to move.

As for those opposing Renly, Cersei Lannister had practically barricaded herself and Tommen… King Tommen, in Maegor’s Holdfast. Meanwhile Ned was left to organize the city’s defenses and get the crumbling situation under control, a tall order that had left Lord Stark busier than ever. It wasn’t even clear if Ned was Hand of the King anymore, seeing as Tommen was now King, but even that wasn’t certain.

No major Lords had sworn oaths or bent the knee to Tommen Baratheon, with Stannis Baratheon being the most glaring offender. The Userper’s brother was still laying low on Dragonstone, and there was a good chance that he would call his own banners and declare himself King upon receiving news of Robert’s death. He was Renly’s older brother after all, meaning his claim to the throne was stronger than Renly’s own.

She would have to speak with Ned. The Hand of the King was far too busy in such trying times, and rarely was he in one place for long. Getting an audience with such a man was downright impossible these days.

“May I ask where you are going?”

It was good she had stayed in Harry’s section of the Red Keep with Val and the Red Priestess, Kinvara, seeing as her retinue had all been slaughtered by Renly’s men along with the rest of the men from Dorne. Yet now her two companions were packing their belongings as if preparing to leave.

“The Vale.” The spearwife answered. “No sense waiting around when Harry’s gone. I’m already bringing one princess with me, so don’t get any ideas about comin’ along.”

The Red Priestess didn’t seem the least bothered by the former wildling. “You’re welcome to come along, Lady Ashara.”

Harry had left right before everything went to hell. He would have no idea what had transpired in King’s Landing for some time, and it seemed his two closest followers weren’t content on sitting around. Not that Ashara could blame them, seeing as the two women were practically sworn to his service. Or rather, sworn to his cock.

That just left Ashara with the choice as to what to do, being to remain in the capital, return to Dorne, or leave with the others to find Harry.

But in the end, the choice was obvious. She sighed, knowing the upcoming journey would be uncomfortable for a noblewoman like her. The things I do for love…

Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18