The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 35 - God’s Hand, Yearn For The Mines & A Wolf Chasing A Mare

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oOhru4Rqp35tfo0Ind0DerXghoq6L1kcS9iB1_NsSNQ/edit?usp=sharing

_______________

"Huh! Ugh… Wish I could… take you with me… everywhere."

Wylis grunted as he pounded into his wife, doing that for over an hour now, claiming Lyanna like he was supposed to. He took her just the way she relished it the most, his large frame eclipsing her, nibbling her with kisses that left marks. Be it her perky pink-tipped nipples, her neck, or her face. 

She'd ridden him already. She'd been prone. She'd been on all fours. And he'd pumped his load each time. Now, as they both reached close to their limit, they defaulted to the typical mating ritual, just loving husband and wife drowning in each other's eyes and bodily fluids. 

"Oooooh! You’re… Breaking me…" Lyanna cried out. 

Lyanna's nails raked red trails across his broad shoulders and chest, digging deep into the sweat-slick muscle as his relentless thrusts spread her folds wide, her legs splayed under the crushing weight of his hips. 

“Ooohhh Fucc—” She cursed through gritted teeth, moaned like a wild thing, and reveled in every brutal inch. 

After his long absence, taking him to the hilt felt like a fresh challenge. A tight, burning stretch around his flesh sword each time, one she loved every single bloody time. 

"Better not go anywhere now," she declared. Her hands clawed at his back to yank him down harder, as if she could keep him buried inside her forever.

Wylis smiled against her lips and claimed her mouth in a sloppy kiss, their tongues tangling in the wet chaos while her shorter frame nearly vanished under his towering frame. Thank Gods the bedding was thick and forgiving, or his seven-foot frame would have snapped her in two. 

Yet the sheer disadvantage of his size only made her burn hotter, every overwhelming thrust a reminder of how perfect he was to her.

To Lyanna, every inch of him was pure blessing. She adored the hulking beast he'd become, had loved him even before the wars stretched him taller and broader, her own personal brute who fucked with the raw power… that was what she enjoyed.

Creak! Creak! 

Their sturdy bed groaned in protest, the oak frame shuddering under the force.

Wylis seemed to grow more powerful each time they fucked, each savage plunge driving balls-deep into her soaked depths, stretching her soaked walls taut around his girth, the blunt cockhead battering so deep she swore she felt him throbbing in her belly.

Lyanna's toes curled tight, her back arching off the furs as the wave crashed over her, pleasure ripping through her core in violent spasms. Again and again with every brutal plunge.

"Oh Gods—Wylis! I love yo–ohhh. Fuck, I love you so much… Don't stop—ahh, my big stupid brute, I love you!"

Wylis crushed his mouth to hers again, pouring every ounce of his longing into the kiss, the world colorless without his she-wolf. Her clenching pussy squeezed his cock mercilessly through the tail of her climax, walls fluttering and squeezing until his own release surged hot up his shaft.

"Yes! That's where that cock should be! Aaaaah… inside me… pour it all… in me-eeeh! Dammit, I fucking… love you," she moaned again after breaking the kiss. The bid for air came out as cries of pure delight while her body shook uncontrollably.

Wylis ground down with a final, diving plunge that sank the mattress deep, forcing her legs to strain wider, her pale northern body thriving on the roughness she begged for. None of that flowery delicacy for his Lyanna, just raw, pounding force until she shattered. Over and over ramming into the gates of her womb.

He wrapped his thick arms around her head like a cage, cradling her cheek against the hard swell of his biceps, lips brushing hot breaths into her ear. His cock erupted at last, flooding her core with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed. 

No, this wasn't the night he'd give her another babe. That was going to be more special. For now, it was just them, lost in the messy, primal longing.

Squelch! Squelch!

"Ugh…" Wylis groaned low into the delicate shell of her ear. His hips jerked through the last thick throbs as his cock filled her pussy, until the filth turned frothy and sticky, a warm puddle forming around his buried shaft, coating him balls-deep in their mingled mess.

"Love you too, Lyanna," he whispered into her ear. Not loud, not tame, just deep and hoarse enough to tell her she was stuck with him forever. 

Wylis felt her wet walls clench hard around him in reaction to his words. He chuckled against her skin when he felt it ripple up his girthy length. His she-wolf always melted for his whispers. His batter was spent, but his cock stayed iron-hard for her, cradled in that scorching, slick grip, too snug and perfect to soften. 

With a smooth roll of his hips, he pivoted them both, flipping her atop without ever leaving her warm cunt. His rigid pole was still lodged deep, stretching her swollen petals like a wet glove, bathing in the hot slurry of his cream and her nectar.

Lyanna collapsed forward, weak and trembling, cheek pressed to the broad slab of his chest, panting hard as his throbbing cock burned deliciously inside her sore pussy, the ache blooming deep.

Wylis dragged the heavy quilt up over them both, the scent of sex thick in the air as he held her close.

“Hmm..” Lyanna moaned softly and lifted her head to look at his face. She was too short to keep his cock buried inside and kiss him properly, so one pleasure had to yield. Slowly, deliberately, she crawled up, thighs trembling as she dragged her pussy lips along his length.

Inch by inch, his thick rod slipped free, the drag exquisitely ticklish, until the swollen head popped out with a wet, lewd squelch. A rush of his thick batter followed, spilling hot from her gaping, throbbing entrance, trickling down her inner thighs, and soaking the sheets. 

“Uughh~” she purred in delight. Her eyes rolled back as her body shuddered from the sticky, wet emptiness. Her pussy twitched, as if asking for more.

She didn’t give a damn about the mess. She crawled higher, hands sinking into the pillow on either side of his head, her long brown hair tumbling down around them, framing his rugged face; those eyes, the growing beard, her man, her everything.

But then worry flickered across her flushed face, gorgeous brows drawing together. "What are we going to do, Wylis?"

“Think nothing of it.” Wylis wrapped an arm around her, settling her against his chest. 

“We’ve got two choices, and neither’s dire. Cut that hair short again, dye it red, smear on a little face paint, and you’ll look a different soul. Or you hide away with Elia and Rhaella while Anna takes your place. She’s short, brown-haired; close enough. I’ll handle the maids and servants. One of my gifts lets me sniff out any foe creeping through our lands. Any such man who dares enter this keep will find himself weeded out before his first breath.”

Lyanna stayed nestled against him, humming softly with her ear pressed to his chest. "Hiding from him sounds like the cleverest plan. Anna's sweet, she'll manage just fine, but… how long is Robert going to linger here? I'm tired of us being apart for months at a stretch."

He had the same thought. Not just Lyanna, he wanted to be with all of them. Give them attention, give his children attention. At least be a better father than the one he knew and hated from his old life. There was no point in having a lot of wealth and might if you couldn't even be there for those who mattered. 

His arms squeezed her warm frame, hugging the life out of her. "A week, at best. I'll try to throw him Ned's way. They’re better friends with each other than either is with me."

"Hm…" She chuckled, a hand caressing his jaw. "Let Ned handle him. I've plenty more to handle here."

Her hand slid down under her hips, gripping his cum-drenched half-hard shaft, waking it up back to life. Oh, she wasn't done yet. After so long, she needed more, far more of her lord husband's cock than one may consider healthy. 

And Wylis, oh, he loved her quirks. 

####

Underneath Ramsgate Castle, 

Qyburn firmly believed in his lord's words. Everything spoken and written. He didn't question, no matter how absurd it may sound. He simply accepted it and tried to understand it, giving every topic the benefit of the doubt, that it was his own knowledge that was lacking. 

He knew it was Lord Wylis who destroyed the Frey bridge. He'd known of his lord's otherworldly feats long before even Lady Kaiser did. He'd seen that rock fly, and he'd also noticed how Lord Wylis kept making the underground chambers of the castle bigger and broader, slowly forming a vast labyrinth. A labyrinth that he used. 

He also had his own tower, however, where he housed his ravens and such. It was useful as a suitable place to work after being underground for so long. Not to mention, the underground chambers served as the perfect experimentation grounds. 

The printing press that Lord Wylis had invented was already housed in a large chamber, numbering no more than fifteen. They printed books, many copies of them. To this day, he marveled at the machine whenever he saw it. How ingenious it was. 

But that day, Lord Wylis had ordered him to meet in the experimentation chamber early in the morning. The experimentation chamber was something of a new addition, an enclosed room with filtered air circulation, paved floors, and smooth walls. He didn't know its use, however. 

I suppose I'll learn today. 

Waiting for Lord Wylis, he started reading the advanced chemistry booklet he had received before Lord Wylis had gone to Maidenpool. It was a thin book, yet he was still struggling to grasp everything. Organic chemistry was hard.

"Qyburn."

"My lord." Qyburn put away the book quickly and helped Lord Wylis with the large sack he was carrying on his back. "This is?" 

"Bread gone soft, overripe fruit, a handful of grains, meat bones, wood ash, and some charcoal to round it out. Brace yourself, Qyburn. We are about to make the greatest discovery Westeros has ever seen."

Qyburn's brows shot up in excitement. He never took Lord Wylis' words for lies or jests. Until now, whatever the young lord had said, he'd done it. Be it toppling a dynasty or teaching him the secrets of medicine and the body. 

"What is it, if I may ask, my lord?"

"I taught you the germ theory a year ago. Do you still remember it?"

Qyburn nodded furiously. Of course, he remembered. It was the most groundbreaking realization of his. Finding out that there lived invisible living germs all around, that most dismissed as miasma, was revolutionary for him. 

"I remember, my lord."

“Today, we begin work on a cure, the very bane of these foul germs. As fire fights fire, so life must fight life to put them down. It is called penicillin, and I will say this plainly. Making it will try our patience."

He watched Lord Wylis eagerly enter the experimentation chamber. He followed right behind, trying to digest the words. He understood it, but couldn't understand its weight. 

"How do we make it, my lord? And what will it heal?" He asked keenly like a young student following the old, wise teacher.

“We brew it from mold, Qyburn. Not just any mold, mind you, a particular kind we’ll raise ourselves. You’ll learn the trick of it as we go. As for what it mends? A fair bit. Cuts that rot instead of closing. Battle wounds that turn hot and swollen. Blood poisoning after an injury or birth. Lung maladies. Throat sickness. Some fevers that come from germs spreading through the body. It does nothing for broken bones, poxes, parasites, or wasting sickness like consumption. If the illness comes from germs invading the body, it can stop them. If it does not, it’s useless.”

Promptly, Qyburn knew why Lord Wylis was doing this. With so many women in the castle, and Lord Wylis' particular addiction to siring children, it made sense. Qyburn had aided Lady Lyanna, Lady Ashara, Lady Anna, and many more in their childbirth. All women bore Lord Wylis' seed, and Seven's mercy; the seed was always big and fat. It was only a matter of time before a woman faced severe misfortune and died during childbirth. But with this penicillin, things would change. 

"My Lord, are we going to keep this discovery a secret?"

“No. Any remedy we discover that makes childbirth safer and easier, we will share with all of Westeros. Every woman deserves a chance to live, even when fate turns cruel.”

Qyburn could swear he saw sorrow on Lord Wylis' face, as if the lord had lost a babe to it. But he couldn't remember any. Perhaps, he simply didn't know? He didn't ask, however. 

"I understand, my lord. A most noble sentiment, truly. Yet I would counsel we keep this invention to ourselves. From what you say, the making of it is no simple task. I have little trust in the Citadel, and they move at the pace of a weary snail. If it can be done, perhaps we might sell it to the Citad—"

"No, we’ll not sell it to them. They’d hoard it, use it only to keep kings and high lords breathing. Once I have it right, I’ll put a full band of men on it the whole year through. We’ll sell it low but still make coin, because the cost to brew it is small. The point is to get every corner of Westeros accustomed to it. Not just maesters, but midwives and hedge healers too. 

“And mark this, the invention will bear your name and mine. When King Robert arrives, I’ll have him set down a royal ledger of inventors and their works, so no man can steal the credit or the coin. With the King’s seal and my own hand behind it, few will dare cross us."

Qyburn opened his mouth to speak, but shut it soon after. Clearly, Lord Wylis had given this more thought than him. And having that royal ledger seemed like a fine idea. With the throne's backing, the Citadel won't move too much.

"How do we start, my lord?"

"By preparing our minds for the boredom we're about to sit through."

Qyburn thought it was a joke. 

Yet again, he was proven wrong. After setting up all the tools made of copper sheets and glass, they started with sterilization. The experimentation chamber turned into an alchemist's workshop soon after. 

He followed Lord Wylis' command and set up the slices of moist bread and citrus peels. They created a large batch to ensure their chances of success. After that, they had to wait days, so they started to work on other things needed to process that mold. 

There were so many steps. It was truly boring because after the first few times, the work became dull. Yet, with Lord Wylis there, he didn't complain. 

Occasionally, Lord Wylis would leave to oversee other ongoing projects across the town. And in that manner, a few days passed. Yet, the first whole batch of mold failed. All mold was black or red. 

After that, they worked on cleaning the chamber more, making it more sterilized. They tried to cultivate another batch of mold after that. 

This time, they were successful. 

Qyburn was excited at first, but only to realise that the incubation stage needed five to ten more days. During that time, they continued to make more batches of mold, working on making the chamber more sterile. The goal was to reach a higher rate of success with the mold. 

And thank heavens they did that because the first batch of incubated mold failed. Hence, the second batch and then the third batch were made. Even the second failed, and only half of the third batch gave them results. 

Qyburn already knew that the Citadel wouldn't be able to make this even if they had all the written instructions. Those old fools lacked true curiosity and patience. 

At last, they filtered the broth from the mold and gently heated it over low fire to evaporate half the water, concentrating the penicillin. He got scolded once for not ensuring it didn't boil. He learned a lot from that experience. 

In the fourth stage, they added vinegar drop by drop while stirring until the broth turned somewhat acidic. Lord Wylis checked it himself by tasting it, declaring that no poison could harm him. 

Finally came the extraction stage. 

He wrote it all down with great detail and clarity. First, they made a crude solvent by using ale and a pinch of sulfur to produce what Lord Wylis termed ethanol. He'd never heard of it before, but he understood it as an ether-like distillate. 

Then they mixed the acidified penicillin broth with the solvent in a sealed jar. Then they let the layers separate. Apparently, the penicillin always moves to the solvent layer. Once they had siphoned off the top solvent layer, they mixed the solvent with a base made of wood ash dissolved in water. It pulled penicillin back in water. 

Once again, they shook it, separated the layers, and collected the watery layer. 

Last came the purification stage. By passing it through charcoal packed in a tube to absorb impurities. Finally, they evaporated it gently and concentrated it into a syrup. Lord Wylis said it could also be turned into a dry powder by spreading it thin on a clean surface in dry air. 

The final result was a brownish liquid extract. The specific instructions stated to store the vials in a cool place. 

Thud!

Qyburn fell, tired, eyes sore. It was truly a process that tested his patience. And in the end, they had just a few vials worth of penicillin.  

"This is but the first step, Qyburn. There are other kinds yet, and though the method stays the same, a few steps will change. We’ll work through them all and grow it steadily in time. Later, I’ll show you seed cultures, how to raise the mold in small flasks so the great vats take faster. When the work grows large, I’ll give it a building of its own. We begin at fifty liters, then climb higher."

Qyburn wondered why Lord Wylis needed that much. They didn't even have much of an army. But he agreed with the plan nonetheless. 

"Now, we test this. Did the ratcatchers bring us any?" 

"They did, my lord." Qyburn hurried to help with the final stage that mattered the most. They used two rats, wounded them, and infected them with pus. They applied penicillin to only one and then watched. 

They remained in the underground chambers that entire night. 

Sure enough, the rat that received the cure started to heal, as evidenced by its movements. A day later, the wound started to show signs of healing. The other rat, however, got worse. 

"This is something to celebrate to, Qyburn." 

He felt the tall lord pat his shoulder. But too inspired, he just stared at the two rats. When he woke up from his thoughts, he turned. 

“My lord, Archmaester Marwyn the Mage arrived yesterday. If you permit me, I would show him this cure. Not the method, of course. Only the cure. It will leave him with questions enough, and curiosity enough, to become interested in working for you.”

He felt that was right. As Lord Wylis's maester, he wanted to help his lord grow in every aspect possible. Since Ramsgate needed talented men and women, he hoped to help in any way possible. 

"Do it, but not within the castle." 

"I understand, my lord."

####

Ting!

[Hidden Quest Completed - God's Hand
Description - A Tyrant conquers, wins, but also nurtures. Your invention shall save millions.
Goal - Create the miracle cure.
Reward - Rock steady hands.]

Wylis had received that ping as soon as he had finished making penicillin, even before he tested it on rats. That was why he knew it was going to work. But this reward, in medical terms, he guessed it made his hands steady for operating on patients. 

However, Wylis went upstairs and grabbed his bow and arrow from the armory. Then he went out in the courtyard and tried shooting a few arrows. 

It works! 

Wylis was already devastating on battlefields with a bow and arrow, but with this ability, his aim was absolute. The only chance he'd miss something was if the weather was intense or if there was a sudden obstruction. 

Excited about everything, he decided to go and train his men that day. Arriving at the outer courtyard, he found the castle's gates closed as the dirty yard was turned into a private training field. 

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying? Do you want Lord Wylis to come teach you himself? He won't be half as kind as I am!" 

Wylis heard Lyanna shouting at a group of archers learning to shoot arrows. She was quite good at it, and she'd taken the duty of teaching them. He hadn't asked her for it; she simply wanted to contribute to the fief. 

Meanwhile, Ashara was holding a basic reading and writing class near a wall, using a chalkboard to teach the recruited men. It was his decision to make his standing army have basic literacy. He wanted to nurture the first batch to make the future inductions smoother.

Then there was Wenda, heavily pregnant and yet verbally instructing men wielding swords. Because of her rather successful career as a bandit, she was amongst the best swordsmen in his lands. 

Truth be told, watching all of them working so hard to contribute to his fief warmed his heart and… his loins. He loved Lyanna, but he cherished each one of them with his heart. Even Ros was working for him, using her interpersonal skills to make a fief-wide information gathering network. It was meant to be basic, just to manage his lands. 

Then there were Elia and Rhaella, who had chosen to take care of all the children in the castle. They had plenty of experience, and they treated Wylis' children as their own. 

I'm one lucky bastard. 

Just thinking of wanting to do something for them, he thought of something. Since the year was coming to an end, and he was expected to hold a feast for Robert, why not simply turn it into a festival? 

This would've been the month for Christmas back on Earth. 

He rubbed his chin, walking towards Chett, who was busy standing guard, overseeing the training field, and ensuring nobody dared mistreat the honorable ladies. The page took his duties seriously.

In the end, Wylis made up his mind.

My lands, my rules, what's stopping me from celebrating it here? 

"My Lord." Chett stood at attention, just as Wylis had trained him. 

“At ease.” Wylis stood beside his page and looked out over the yard, where dozens of men trained. “You’ve done well with learning books. It’s time you served as my squire in full. We’ll hold the oathtaking once your sword arrives from King’s Landing.”

Chett froze in place in shock, jaw agape, eyes full of delight and adoration. 

Wylis chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Shut that mouth now, or you’ll outdo whores. Come then, let us spar. I’ll show you a thing or two. And Small Paul."

Wylis eyed the giant boy. One look and he knew the boy was on the spectrum, and he honestly couldn't cure him. But he wanted him as a scarecrow, that was it. He didn't care if Small Paul chased butterflies in his free time. 

And thanks to his greater height, Small Paul gave him respect by default. Illiterate and untrained, the boy knew how to say 'my lord' at every start and end of a sentence. 

"My Lord?" Small Paul stepped forward. 

“Watch Chett and me train. See how his feet carry him and try it yourself, nice and easy," He instructed the boy. "Be careful, don’t go knocking into folk.”

One flaw of Small Paul was that he didn't know his own strength. The boy could break someone's back by just giving a friendly hug. 

"My Lord."

That was all that Small Paul said. 

After that, Wylis started making Chett dance. The soon-to-be squire had big shoes to fill. The Tyrant's real squire couldn't be weak.

####

Wylis eyed the blonde woman seated before him on the other side of the table. Genna seemed to have come prepared, as all her gowns were rather tight around her scandalous bust and child-bearing hips. 

It wasn’t that they hadn’t tried to talk seriously during that past month. It was just that whenever they met, it turned into multi-hour-long rutting sessions. Thankfully, things were manageable now.

At least she's wiser than Cersei. 

"What can I do you for, my lady?" He asked the voluptuous woman, focusing not on the revealing valley of her bust but on her soft face. 

And right then, Genna leaned over, elbows on the table, her chin on her hands, eyes full of lust and need. 

"Oh, you can do me however you like, my lord," She teased, chuckling. "But that might have to wait just a little longer. If I don't send word to my brother soon, he'll send half the Rock looking for me. And that brings us to why I came here, other than the most pressing desire for something of yours finding its way somewhere inside me.”

This woman's insatiable. 

Wylis held a calm look, nodding for her to continue.

“I told my lord brother what you said to me that day. About finding signs of gold, silver, and gems in the Westerlands. He’s keen to expand the mines, and he’s curious about what you might propose. Naturally, he will reward you. The only question left is what you want in return.”

Pride's practically leaking from every word she says. 

Wylis saw the signs of Genna's unwavering loyalty to the Lannisters. Even if her loyalty to him had reached a high ninety, he reckoned she wouldn't mind stabbing him in the back if he rose against her house. 

Since this was a political discussion, he let go of all his feelings and arousal towards her. He sat up straight and looked her in the eye. "What do I want in return? More than the gorgeous treasure Lord Tywin has already gifted me?"

Genna just laughed with a genuine blush. 

"My lady, what I need most are arms and ships. Arms, I can gather in time. Ships take longer. I ask for fifty in all, forty great cogs and ten three-masted carracks. They must come crewed, of course. I’ll see the sailors paid." 

He read her expressions closely. There was a sign of relief, as if fifty ships weren't much of a bother. Well, it did make sense since they were going to receive gold mines. Just a tiny fraction of it could buy hundreds of ships, let alone fifty. 

“That seems reasonable to me. I’m sure my lord brother wouldn’t mind it. Then, let us final—"

“Hold, my lady. There’s been a misunderstanding. Those fifty ships are only to guarantee the mines exist, gold, and more besides. If you want the exact location, and I speak plainly here, I’ll need more in return. I want shared rights to the new mines. Hear me first." He lifted a hand to still her. He wasn’t so foolish as to think the Lannisters would ever treat him as an equal. Deeds or power mattered little to them. They would always see themselves as higher.

"I will give you the exact location of the mines. In return, you grant me, and ten of my men, consent to dig there as well, and to keep whatever we can pull from the ground with our own hands."

Now, that was a lucrative offer. Lannisters employed hundreds, if not thousands of miners in their gold mines. In front of them, what could Wylis and his ten men even do? Moreover, his offer was big enough to be worth it for himself, yet small enough not to brush the Lord of Casterly Rock wrongly. 

I'll drain the fuck out of your mines once I get there. 

Of course, Earthbending changed everything. Wylis alone was worth thousands of miners. 

This time, Genna seemed troubled, thinking deeply. 

“Remember this. I can name the region where the mines lie, and you may spend years, perhaps decades, chasing shadows. What I offer instead is the exact location itself,” he reminded and relaxed back, watching her eyes move as if calculations ran in her mind. 

She didn’t ask how he could guarantee it; she just accepted his words. They were coming from the Tyrant of the Trident, not a mumbling fool.

"You will mine yourself? Why?" Genna asked, as if more worried about him mining than the request itself. 

Wylis shrugged, lifting his arms and giving them a brief flex. “Why not? It’s a fair sort of work, and these arms were not forged for sitting idle. Stabbing hearts and cutting throats loses its charm after a time.”

Genna just stared at him like he was the most entertaining court jester in the world. 

"If that is so… I doubt my brother would object, not if it’s only you and ten men besides. I can write to him, unless there is something more you care to add."

"We should work on the terms of the agreement," Wylis said, and started writing on a blank piece of paper. 

"We'll have the Crown officiate it," Genna suggested.

Wylis gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Not enough, my lady. I stand on good terms with Queen Cersei, true, but she’s still every bit a Lannister. One day, her son will sit on the Iron Throne. Let the Iron Bank stand as witness and officiator. House Lannister can bear that, surely.

“And I want assurances. If no new mine opens in the Westerlands within a year, I’ll have the right to enter the mines of Casterly Rock with ten men and take whatever precious stone we find.”

To that, Genna smirked, appearing more proud than troubled. 

“You have the realm quite fooled, my lord. If only they knew you think just as hard as you fu… Well, I am impressed. You know my brother would never let you inside Casterly Rock’s mines. You are forcing his hand to begin mining.”

Wylis nodded and added another line. 

“I want the ships delivered within two years. If not, then for every year the bargain falls short, I will place another hundred men in the mines, a hundred more with each passing year. It may sound harsh, but I must have some assurance the ships will come once the mines are yours.”

Genna nodded to it again, smiling like a maiden meeting her first love. 

At last, Wylis passed the paper so she wouldn't miss anything. Right there, she read it with focus, then folded it and placed it in the tight confines of her bosom. 

“Now that we are finished, let me offer you my help, my lord,” Genna said with a knowing smile. “I have heard of King Robert’s visit, and I know the bind you find yourself in. I can have my men spread through the town to turn away prying eyes and listening ears. As for the castle, leave the maids to me. I will see that their loyalties are properly placed.”

Wylis gazed at her, trying to gauge her. She was a tough woman to crack; he had to give it to her. The woman was born to be a politician. Too bad for her, she was born a woman.

"Why?" he asked directly. "Why are you even interested?"

"Because…" Genna rose from her chair and walked around his table. 

Wylis pushed his chair back and made space, and watched her turn and sit sideways on his lap. His one arm quickly wrapped around her soft back, giving her back some support. His other landed on her fluffy thighs.

"Because this... You make me excited." Genna slid an arm over his shoulder, her face so close her breath brushed his skin before she pressed a slow kiss to his cheek, just shy of his lips. "Oh, I know how sinful and filthy I am, my lord. But I swear by our son's name, I have no desire or reason to betray you. Not after you gave me the greatest joy of my life. Something even my father and brother never managed. And I like it here. It's rare to find women so... experienced, so knowledgeable, and such a pleasure to talk to. Debating the realm, history, and the old tales with the two graces is stirring. And Lyanna is pure thrill wrapped in that stunning, slender frame. I enjoy it here, my lord."

Wylis smiled, his hand moved low behind her back to grope her feathery soft, squished asscheeks. "Careful, living in my castle has a drawback."

"Which is?"

"Wobbly legs, sleepless nights, and sore loins."

"Hah!" Genna laughed throatily. "Oh, may the Seven bless all women with such misfortune."

He laughed with her and allowed her to kiss him. His other hand groped her tits, worthy of being suffocated between. Only when she grew breathless did she break the kiss, a hint of their spit making a bridge between their lips. 

"I should go and write to my lord brother."

He gave a soft slap to her ass and let her stand up. He watched her go, a walk that shook that rump, inviting him, teasing him to follow. 

But he didn't; he had work to do. But at the same time, he couldn't stop remembering Brandon's words, although the bastard had gone out on his own little adventure to meet Barbrey Dustin.

Aye, I really am a manwhore. No denying it now. 

####

The Barrowtown, 

Brandon sneezed hard, annoyed by that sudden itch in his nose. It had to come just when he stood before Barbrey, his sweetheart from some time back. 

"What happened to you, Barbrey?" Brandon asked, covered in warm furs, standing in her solar. “You never used to be this cold. The girl I remember was all fire and fight, the one who slapped the piss out of me whenever I tried my luck with you. I swear those blows took my heart and never gave it back.”

Lady Barbrey coldly snorted, arms crossed, dressed in all black as she commonly did now. "She died the day you chose a Tully over me."

"Barbrey, that was never my choice," Brandon clarified and walked over to her like they were still young lovers and not nobles of higher order. He carelessly clapped a hand on her shoulder. "That was my father's doing, that cunt, chasing his southern dreams. The old cunt never even bothered to knight Wylis. Now look at him, Lord Kaiser of Ramsgate."

"And you vanished." 

"I didn’t. I didn’t vanish. I was locked away. More than a year in the damn Black Cells under the Red Keep, Barbrey, rotting in the dark with nothing but rats for company. My last sight was Father burning alive before my eyes, screaming till he couldn't anymore. Gods, I didn't even know if Winterfell still stood. It was all a bloody mess. I made too many mistakes, aye, and I'm done with that. That's why I let Ned have the castle. I'm through chasing others' dreams. Now I'm doing what makes me happy, and right now, looking at you... Gods, it makes me fucking happy."

For a moment, he saw it. The way Barbrey looked back at him, her eyes were overcome with emotion. Yet there was restraint, something holding her back. 

"We can't, Brandon." She pushed his hand away. "Writing ravens is one thing, but this… I'm Barbrey Dustin now, not Ryswell."

"I’m not asking you to wear my name. Be the Barbrey I fell for, and let me be your Brandon. I am telling you true. The realm can fuck off. Do you want me? Because I fucking want you."

Once again, he saw a flicker of emotion in her cold gaze. Oh, he so much felt like embracing her right then and there. The woman had been through enough because of his carelessness and unwillingness to fight his father. Perhaps he did get swayed by Catelyn's beauty in the end. 

And he knew he was a fool for that. 

Knock! Knock!

"My lady? The guests are here."

For a moment, Brandon heard a sniffle from Barbrey, her one hand wiping away her eyes urgently. Then her stoic persona returned. She ordered the guests to be let in. He just stared at her, hoping to get a response and not a cold shoulder. 

Too damn late? Am I?

He wondered what he could do to win her over again. To have the old Barbrey back, the one filled with life and joy.

Creak!

But then the door opened, and he searched for the damn guests who ruined his private moment. However, once he saw the face, his anger exploded. 

"Roose Bolton? What's this whoreson doing here? Plotting another one of his li—"

Brandon caught his words as a little boy slid past his Roose’s legs, running towards Barbrey, who was eying him back with a glare. 

"Aunt Barbrey!" 

Brandon sneered, still staring down Roose Bolton. 

Better thank me for this, Wylis. Caught your pain in the arse courting allies. 

But what made him even angrier was who Roose was trying to pull into the entire mess.

My Barbrey of all! 

___________________

A/N: I'll try to post this month's [Higher Tier Exclusive Chapter] of Tyrant tomorrow. If I'm unable to, it'll be posted on the 26th.