The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 26 - Harem Assemble, Night Shift & Saving Rhaella

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Ting!

[Hidden Quest Completed - Honor of Ramsgate
Description - Investigate the mysterious behavior of the town and purge the evil in the Tyrant's way.
Reward - Love, respect, and loyalty of the people of Ramsgate town.]

Brennard's head rolled as Chett's sword fell on the chopping block. The people of Ramsgate had gathered to watch, and the moment it was over, they rejoiced. A harsh chapter in their lives was finally past them. Their tormentor was no more. 

But standing to the right of the chopping block, Wylis had something else on his mind. Seeing so much blood spilled on the town square's stage, and noticing how many children were watching, he wondered if it would psychologically change them. Make them more violent. Make them desensitized towards death and blood. 

Better to hang people instead, wild west style. 

Of course, he wasn't going to stop executing people. Execution kept people in line. But there were better ways to kill than to flood the entire stage with blood. 

Probably should write down a law code.

That was Wylis' advantage. He had the mind of a modern man but the willingness of a medieval brute when it comes to violence. Perfect combination, according to him. 

"What now? Ready for some ale, eh?"

"It's early morning." He glanced at the Wild Wolf beside him, now a resident of Ramsgate and the official Admiral of a grand total of one little cog. “I've got work piled on me. Take a walk through the town, meet folks, see to the ship. Tomorrow we’ll ride through the fief, make sure the villages are sound. Best we see no Brennards are hiding in them.”

Brandon snickered. "Uh, just what I hated about being a lord. Good luck with it, may your wits rot slow."

After making sure that the stage was wiped clean and the dead body was burned, Wylis walked back to the castle. He made sure to stroll around a little before, though. He had to calibrate his plans, and there were so many things he needed to do that even he didn't know how many things he needed to do. 

One thing was clear, though. He needed to raze most of the town to make way for better and bigger buildings. Knowing how grand the Tyrant's Squire's plans were, he wanted to be prepared to scale everything when needed. 

And that meant he needed to start planning some large institutions, based around education and step-by-step career paths. For example, he wanted to build a college for medicine and healing in general, and it would also work as a hospital. He needed to create a college for the Navy and the Army, so he could feed Tyrant's Squire bodies to man the fleet and many legions of men. He needed to create small schools for children so the higher-level schools wouldn't have to waste time teaching fifteen-year-olds how to read and write. 

"The northern part of Ramsgate must go." He made up his mind. The northern part of the town was barely occupied; buildings were rundown, mostly abandoned. It was also close to the castle and main street, making it the best place for all the institutes. 

Besides, he wanted to expand the town into a city, and that meant dividing the city into three parts. Core, walled part for Lord's Castle, the middle part where all the administration and institutes would exist, and finally the outer part where all the markets and houses would be. Each would be walled, not to create a class divide but to make things efficient. 

In the end, it all came to planning, intelligently designing districts to ensure markets and housing didn't create a class divide. 

"M'lord."

He passed by the guards and entered the castle, thousands of ideas crowding his mind. Though the biggest one was how the fuck was he supposed to use Earthbending? Really, now he was regretting not taking Metalbending. He could have made steel beams, pipes, all the scientific apparatuses needed, heck, even large ships. 

But that ship had sailed already. Earth was his element. And it had served him well.

"What's with that grumpy face?"

Inside his solar on the ground floor, he found Lyanna, reading something. She walked up to him and kissed him before rubbing her hand on his budding beard. 

"Too much to do, Ly—Ellyn. Ugh, I hope one day we can stop with these new names and just be us openly." He held her against his chest. "For now, your man must grow powerful."

"Coming from a towering man who makes the realm’s fiercest warriors quake? That is truly frightening," she said with a chortle, finally returning to her cushioned lounge seats where Magnus was sleeping. 

Wylis headed to his large table and began working. 

Normally, a solar was where you worked, met other men, other nobles, other knights. But Brennard had spent so much money keeping the solar luxurious, and there was a warm, comfortable sitting area.

He honestly loved having company. Getting to watch Lyanna, or Ashara, or even Elia with all the kids. It warmed him up, made all the hard work worth it. Not that he hated being a lord. It was his dream.

Better start working on the castle first. 

####

Underneath the castle, Qyburn had set up his sizable laboratory with Wylis' help. From alchemy desks to operating tables, a small study, and of course, a single small bed. Though he rarely used anything other than the study in those days. 

"Marvelous!" 

Holding a book about human organs, he touched his own body to feel the various things described in the book. From how the brain worked, the parts of the brain, voice formed, taste buds, all the hormones, enzymes, and even the sexual organs, the sperm, and what creates a boy and what creates a girl. It was all written by Lord Wylis, and he trusted each word in it. 

He had already finished reading about human bones, and then the specialized subjects about childbirth, as he still wanted to be useful to the lord. 

"Seven blessings! This makes the most sense," he muttered, reading by the candlelight. "No wonder the Targaryens went mad so often. The seed was tainted with incest." 

But all that aside, Qyburn had another thing to do. He was tasked with the monumental job of creating a curriculum that could teach men and women with basic language skills how to become healers. It was supposed to be a tiered program. 

"I truly need more hands," he muttered and put away the book to focus on the ravens. 

Qyburn, while expelled from the Citadel, still had friendly relations with many maesters. So, at Lord Wylis' request, he drafted ravens. What Lord Wylis lacked was men with enough knowledge who could directly learn from him and then spread that knowledge to his chosen men, and then work with them to build beautiful, revolutionary things. 

Hence, he wrote to a maester he knew who had earned iron links for smithing and metallurgy. He also added a small tease about a new type of furnace that Lord Wylis had suggested. 

Then he wrote to someone who had earned a yellow gold link for mathematics and economics. Of course, once again, Lord Wylis had teased a rather interesting concept, something about division and labor. 

Then came Brass, a maester who mastered alchemy and chemistry. Qyburn personally needed this man to make medicines. Then came steel for physical science.

Finally, with a sigh, he wrote one to an archmaester who had earned a silver link for mastery in healing, medicine, and surgery. He really didn't want to invite Ebrose as he considered the man a rival. But not being petty, and aware that he alone can't learn all the vast knowledge that Lord Wylis possessed, he wrote it. 

Of course, he had warned Lord Wylis already. Maesters of the Citadel couldn't be trusted. Even less so with the women hidden in the castle, each worth a rebellion on her own. He had personally asked the lord to withhold deeper knowledge and bar them from entering the castle. At least until he could trust the maesters like the lord trusted him. 

"Hmm…"

Finally, with crossed arms, he relaxed in his chair. There was one more man he wanted to write to, an archmaester, but he felt unsure. The man was an enigma, not liked by the Citadel either. Yet, the man had the most interesting ideas. 

But the real reason he wanted to invite him was for Lord Wylis. Archmaester Marwyn, the Mage, had traveled the world, spoke languages most didn't know existed. Lord Wylis needed a well-traveled man. 

Personally, Qyburn liked him. Marwyn was the only man willing to hear his thoughts on ghosts.

No harm in trying, I suppose. 

####

Wylis decided to start with a survey of the land his castle sat on. 

He wanted to check its foundation, if it could handle the construction of a moat. And since it was all big rocks, he only had to use Earthbending to get a feel of it. 

Starting from the west side, he slowly walked over the jagged rocks. It really was a strong base, and the rocks made a decent cliff that separated it from the rest of the town. Though it wasn't impenetrable. If someone wanted to climb it, they could. 

The base looks strong. 

Alone, he headed towards the back of the castle. The empty area there was far bigger than the rest. He reckoned at least three new towers could be added there, but he had no desire to. Rather, he wanted to turn it into a garden as the view from there was wide and soothing. 

Pretty strong. 

Piece by piece, he surveyed every part. There was no treasure buried there, or else his previous quest would have marked it. He just wanted to ensure everything was safe there. 

"Hm? Water?"

When he reached somewhere in the middle of the supposed backyard, he sensed something under the stones. Warm, wet, and soothing. 

Quickly, he looked left and right, and then above at the roof of the castle. Once sure that nobody was looking at him, he crouched and grabbed a massive chunk of rock. While he acted as if he was using his hands, he used Earthbending to lift it. 

A second stone after that. Then a third, and then a fourth. One by one, he moved a few dozen stones, and finally, he found water. It was filling up, and it was hot. 

A fucking hot spring?

Needing to heighten his senses, he quickly removed his boots and used his bare feet to feel the underground. The water was already starting to turn his feet red. But he didn't move and tried to find the source. 

Deeper, layer by layer. 

Hmm… It's deep. 

While he couldn't look as deep as the source, he noticed the trace of water as it rose high. 

"Hot! Fuck!"

As soon as he stopped using Earthbending, he felt his feet burning and jumped out of the little pit he had dug. Water had already risen to his knees. It was steaming hot and got hotter with time. 

As he wore his boots again, he looked around at the massive stone-filled backyard. And then he looked at the little pit of scorching hot water. Of course, it was too hot to take a bath, but he could dig a new, larger pond beside the little pit and make the pit's scorching water pipe into the larger pond. As long as he planned it, he'd have an excellent outdoor hot spring to take a dip in. 

Ladies will love it. 

He already imagined the fun times ahead, though he was quick to hide that grin. 

To make the thermae successful, he needed to ban guards from patrolling the terrace, seal the doors so tight nobody could go there without his permission. Then build a wooden wall around the bathing pond, maybe a few plants. He could also separate the pit so the maids could directly take water from it in case Wylis and the women wanted to take a bath inside the castle. 

Happy with his little survey, he headed back to enter the castle since there was no gate directly leading into the backyard. 

I'll need to build a new wall separating the entire backyard. Could also remove all stones and make it a garden. 

"M'lord, you have guests."

"..."

Again?

Frowning, he rushed into the outer courtyard, finding Caliburn merrily munching on some carrots. The big boy had recently finished breeding three strong mares. There was also a stagecoach now, and the owner was feeding his horses some water.

"Who is it?" he asked while approaching the castle's main entrance. 

"Two of 'em, M'lord. One bore a scar across her face, with a babe at her breast." Said Chett, "The other had hair like fire."

Nodding, he entered the castle and went to the guest area. But it was empty, so he headed to his solar, which was considered a more private and secluded area where only the women could enter in his absence. 

Even before he opened the door, he heard laughter coming from inside. 

That sounds like…

"...And then he went an' cut down six men with naught but a spoon. A spoon, mind you! Seven save us, can you believe it?"

Wylis entered the solar and digested the two new faces. Well, not new but new to the castle. There she was, Wenda, the perfect mix of soft and mighty, holding onto his son, Simon. Her second pregnancy was noticeable. 

And then there was the heartthrob of Winter Town, curvy, large-breasted, even more beautiful than he remembered, red-haired Ros. He had told Wenda to bring her as well since she really helped Wenda during her first pregnancy. 

"There he is," Lyanna chirped. 

All the women rose to their feet. 

Wylis smiled and approached Wenda, receiving her in a warm embrace with his son in her arms. She felt as warm and soft as ever, yet with muscles in the right places. He didn't kiss her, though; he avoided that in Lyanna's presence out of respect. 

"You did it," Wenda whispered against his chest. "Lord Wylis Kaiser of Ramsgate. Best I start learning how to curtsey proper now."

Chuckling, Wylis whispered into her ear. "Aye, you'll be doing that a lot… On knees."

Laughing, Wenda stepped back and handed him Simon. Like all of Wylis' kids, he'd grown big. Already a year old and the size of a two-year-old. Eyes blue, hair the same as Wylis, but with a little hint of Wenda in facial shape. 

Seeing Simon made him realize how rare daughters were for him. Only one yet.

In silence, he allotted the one Life Point Simon had earned, placing it in Vitality, since the boy was born with negative two. 

[Simon (Bastard) - Wenda the White Fawn
Life Points Available - 0]

[Strength - 3/10
Dexterity - 3/10
Intelligence - 1/10
Charisma - 3/10
Vitality - 3+1/10]

"I guess Rhaenys just got a new sibling to play with."

Standing not far away, Rhaenys' eyes glowed in silent approval. She did have so many to play with, after all. Aegon, who had started to crawl, and Magnus, who had also begun to crawl and try to stand. He was sure Simon wasn't far behind. Moreover, Arthria would join in soon. 

Better start making some toys for them. 

Eventually, he handed the boy back to Wenda and joined them on the seats. But not before giving Ros a simple hug and thanking her for all the help. 

"No need, M'lord. You’ve done plenty more than I have."

What did I do? 

Not dwelling on that, he chatted with the women. 

"I trust this does not unsettle you, Elia." He looked at the fallen princess. "I have not forgotten what the Kingswood Brotherhood once did. Wenda is not the same woman now."

"What did they do?" asked Lyanna with interest. 

Wenda groaned, embarrassment written on her face. "I… I didn't. But Ulmer, Gods take him, when we set on Lady Elia’s escort in the wood, he loosed an arrow at Ser Gerold, then snatched a kiss and a few jewels after."

"Kiss? From Elia?" Lyanna eyed the Dornish princess. "What happened then?"

“It was doomed from the start,” Wenda scoffed. “The King’s men hunted us down. Ser Arthur cut the Brotherhood to pieces, killed our chief right there. I tried to carry on, went after merchants, steered clear o’ lords. That was until we faced someone too big for us to handle."

She pointed at Wylis with the last words. 

Hearing her brother's name, Ashara perked up. "You met my brother?"

"No, I ran from him," Wenda answered. 

"I don't hold it against you." Elia voiced, though her expressions revealed hesitation. "A lot has changed since then."

The women nodded. 

"Come on then, Wenda, I’ll show you the castle. You and I will be seeing plenty of each other." Lyanna got up, taking Magnus along. "Ashara, Ros, Elia, what about you three? Care to come along?"

Ashara got up quickly with her daughter. Ros also joined, though unsure if she'd get to live there. 

"I'll stay here. Jon's sleeping." Elia didn't budge. 

Wylis noticed that she had something to talk about. And the way Lyanna gave him the side eye, she noticed it as well. 

Moments later, the solar was mostly empty, devoid of noise. Rhaenys had left with the group of ladies since it was fun. Aegon slept, Elia stared at his face, and Wylis looked at the searing hearth.

"May I ask why?" 

He looked up at her dusky face. "Depends on what you're asking."

"Why have so many bastards? That Wenda, she's pregnant again, and I presume it's yours?"

"Aye, it is," he said plain enough, not bothering to hide it. "And I mean to have more yet. With Lyanna, with Ashara, and others. I've already sired more than a dozen children."

"..."

Elia's jaw was hanging open in shock. "Y-You're… merely twenty. Why?"

"One and twenty," he said, correcting her. "Maybe one day I'll tell you, when I can trust you as I do Lyanna. It will shake you, that much is certain. Just know this; there will be more children. Many more. Perhaps a hundred."

"..."

"Is…" Elia’s lips trembled as she glanced from Aegon to Wylis. "Is that what is required to remain here? Must I… must I bear you childr—"

"What? Gods, no, Elia, no." He cut her short. "The children I’ve fathered were all born of choice, not cruelty. You are here because I want what is just. I care for Rhaenys. You're not a guest here, Elia. You're a part of the family. This is your house, and no one will wrong you."

Why's she still frowning? 

"And… Rhaella?"

It was his turn to frown. "Well, we have lain together before, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it came to pass again. Rhaella is the only woman besides Lyanna with whom I have felt an emotional bond. Putting aside carnal matters, all I wish is to bring her to safety and grant her the joy she never knew, even if I have to abduct her for it."

"..."

Elia was silent. Perhaps too surprised that he fucked the Queen when she was THE Queen. Inside the Red Keep itself. 

He shrugged. "It just happened. I didn't plan it, nor did she. I wanted to take her with me, steal her away, bring her to safety. But she… found more solace in her cage, I suppose."

Elia winced, the memory of Rhaella's gloomy face still fresh. She knew the truth. The castle knew. The bloody realm knew. The Queen had suffered alone. 

"With that many children, how will you raise them? And… who will receive your inheritance?"

"Magnus will have Ramsgate, no question. He’s my firstborn from true wedlock. But fret not. For every child I have with a noblewoman, even Wenda, I’ll see they have lands of their own. The Boltons will serve well enough for now. And I could use your counsel in such political matters, if you’ll lend it."

Elia dangerously smirked, sizing up Wylis. She liked that he hadn't cooled down and eased into his lordly life of luxury. As long as he still held ambitions, she knew it was the right decision to follow him. 

"Your well-being carries mine, and my children's, too. I have every reason to aid you."

"That eases my mind. I'll return to my work then."

But Wylis knew that what he'd told her was just the tip of the iceberg. Because he knew how fucking hungry Tyrant's Squire was. If he followed even half of its quests and targets, he'd have enough land to gift his sons and daughters each and still have some leftover.

Man, I need more children. 

####

Ugh, this ain't right. 

That same night, after dealing with Brandon screaming at him, calling him a degenerate horndog, and whatnot, Wylis was forced to leave his own bedchamber. 

Thankfully, it wasn't because Lyanna was angry. No, it was because she had invited Ashara and Wenda to the bedchamber and had occupied the massive bed, since it really was the largest in the castle. The three women were catching up with each other, bonding over the man they all shared, as fucked up as it was. 

And of course, Wylis wasn't allowed to snoop on their ladies' talk. Even when he offered to sleep on the lounge.

So, he returned to his solar, prepared to do what he called ‘locking in’, and finish the plans for the castle and the hot spring. Only the area around his table was lit with candles; the hearth was still warm not far away, shimmering the solar with its golden hue. 

Now all he had to do was draw and estimate the materials. He was already planning to commission the town's folks to chop some trees around the base of the plateau on which the castle sat. The townsfolk were masters at chopping down trees anyway. 

Only this time they'd be paid in coin. 

"Hmm…" 

In fact, Wylis didn't plan on using his Earthbending for building the wall. Sure, he'd use it to prepare the large land area for construction. But he wanted to employ the town's people so they could earn money, and then that money could cycle through his town's economy. Basically, he wanted to kickstart what was dormant. Small, but an internal economy was needed. 

Though he did plan on making the moat personally once the walls were finished, that way nobody would see him do it. And thanks to a flowing river into the sea, he could have constant running water through that moat, using it for human waste disposal, only for the castle. 

"I can make it pretty luxurious and modern with some basic plumbing," he muttered, scribbling on the large paper, using a ruler and other engineering tools. 

Clack!

"Fuck!"

He jumped to his feet, having mistakenly knocked over the cup of water. Thankfully, it only fell to the ground, not on the papers. He'd have gone berserk if that had happened. 

Knock! Knock!

Hm? Who's awake at this hour? 

"Enter."

The door was pushed open and walked in a certain redhead, dressed in a sleeping gown, thin, loose, sleeveless, and very revealing around the chest. 

"I didn’t reckon my castle’s beds were such a burden to sleep in, Ros." He smiled at her while reaching down for the fallen cup.

"They are the most comfortable, M'lord," Ros replied, baring her teeth in a playful smile. "Needed a bit of drink. Helps me lie down warm. Heard your curse."

He took that same cup to the large wine barrel not far away. He never drank it, but the ladies did. He filled the cup and gave it to Ros. "Warm, you say? Take a seat."

She chuckled and sat down on the visitor's chair, slightly less grand than his. She sipped the wine, letting it smoothly nourish her lips. "Mmm… never had a Lord’s wine on my lips before."

"Now you know why most of them are fat." He said and leaned his hips against the table's edge, standing right beside her chair, gazing down at her face. One look into her eyes and he knew where this was going, as she never stopped smirking. 

Ros laughed into the cup, breathing ragged as she gulped it all down in one breath. When she was done, she softly slammed the cup on the table. "That was delightful."

"Aye, delightful indeed." He added, his eyes taking an unfettered glance at her almost bare chest, her sleeping gown only hiding the peaks. 

Ros looked at him, lips pursed, smirking. She was the same age as him, and the heat in the air between them was unavoidable. 

"Thank you." He said, taking her hand in his, caressing the back of it with his thumb. "I swore to Wenda I’d be there, or at least send a maester. But the Mad King’s will left no room for it."

"No need, M'lord." She slipped her hand free, letting it wander onto his thigh, slow and teasing as her fingers crept closer to his erection. "I'm glad you trusted me with it. I know a whore's words ain't worth a copper, but I'm grateful you wanted me here."

Ugh… She knows what she's doing, and it's working. 

As his length grew hard, he sighed. "A lot has happened and changed since we first met, I suppose. You must be thinking of what becomes of you now. I would have you stay here, in this town. In time, I’ll see a fine manor raised for you. Till then, you’ll have your place within the castle."

"And what will I do?" She asked, her hand finally found his throbbing shaft, caressing it from the tip to the hilt. “If you must know, I gave up whoring long ago. Wenda hated it, so she claimed me for herself. I’ve been her handmaiden ever since.”

"Wenda's handmaiden? I guess she did live like a noble lady."

Ros chuckled, her other hand coming up with no shame and loosening the knot of his trousers. She did that with ease and fished out his cock, her fingers struggling to circle at the base. She didn't look at it, though. Only up at his face. 

"Ros." He caressed her face, in control of his heat as much as he was loving it. "If you do this only because you dread what lies ahead, you need not. You can still be the handmaiden and get paid for it. I sure need one."

"And…" Her grip hardened, unmoving on his thickness, the heat ungodly. "What if I want more?"

He frowned, his cock quivering. "Which is?"

A bit of hesitation marred her face, but she hid it well with the sultry smile. "Mmm… Wenda whispered it to me. That you want children. Not just one or two… but a whole brood."

"And you're willing?" 

Ros nodded, resuming her gentle strokes, her thumb often teasing his tip until he shuddered. But she also saw uncertainty on his face. "You don't want me to?"

Wylis palmed her chin, his thumb teasing her soft lips. "Oh, I know our babe will come out beautiful, I can see that. But this feels like I'm taking advantage of you. Like you've nowhere else to go."

"Gods, that's not the case at all, M'lord." Ros rose to her feet with a smooth motion, her hand never leaving his shaft. She leaned into his chest, her face tilted up, sadly unable to reach his lips. 

“Aye, I’m selfish, I won’t lie. I know what I stand to gain. But I want this… truly. No girl wakes one morn and says she’ll spread her legs for coin. The world pushes her there. Most never crawl back out. I did. And I know my fate, some man to wed me for this body, this face. And when he learns what I was… I'll be at his mercy, beaten, bruised, abused… Gods know what it'll be, I won't be first, nor the last, seen plenty."

Her other hand captured his loose tunic's collar to pull his face down. 

"M'lord, I'll bear you a brood with a smile and a warm heart. I knew it the moment you stepped into my chamber that day, young and aching, your purse heavy and balls full."

Wylis couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. His first time, and how Tyrant's Squire woke up. On its own, his arm snugly went around her waist. 

"M'lord…" She gulped, rising on her toes to reach his lips, her fingers dancing across his aching length. “If you’ll have me, I’ll be yours till my last breath. Because I'll know the Gods have already blessed me with the grace of a lifetime."

Honestly, it all was too sudden. 

Wylis had only met Ros a handful of times, and he'd fucked her just once. She wasn't even a friend, just an acquaintance. Though what she did for Wenda did make her much more important. Enough that he’d employ her and protect her.

"No," he said.

Ros' eyes fell, disappointment visible. 

But before she could land on her heels and pull away, his right arm squeezed her harder, his left hand palmed the back of her lush, red, untied hair, his lips ready to bruise her. "Not now. Once Wenda's given birth… you'll give me a brood, Ros."

His fingers tightened like claws in her hair, dragging her face up until her lips crashed against his. That wine still lingered on her breath as thickly as it had in the cup, and he drank it from her mouth as though he were the one tipsy. He didn’t usually drink, but like this… with her lips under his… he loved it.

“Ummh…” Ros melted against him with a low whimper, her hand faltering below. She let him take her mouth, part her lips, devour her. Gods, it had been years since she’d felt a man like this, bigger than her, hotter. The sort of man who kissed as though he meant to conquer.

She felt weak; he felt impossibly imposing above her. That boy from Winter Town, the one green as spring, just a stableboy, was gone. This was a man now, carved out of muscle and heat, and his kiss told her as much.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his strong tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her, declaring her his just as she had offered herself. His tongue teased hers until she gave a helpless little giggle, then she danced with him, lips wet, hot, sliding, tongues sparring, a kiss that was a mix of comfort, confidence, and filth.

Wylis, eyes shut, lost in the heat, savored her mouth. He couldn’t even remember if he’d kissed her that first time. He probably hadn’t; she had been a whore, and he, a guy with coin. But now… now there was no reason not to. Her career had been short-lived anyway, and this kiss tasted nothing like whoring.

He felt her tongue melt against his like tangling, warm honey. His grip shifted, no longer in her hair but sliding down to her shoulders, pushing the gown aside. The fabric was loose, barely tied, and it fell without protest.

When he broke the kiss, his lips were wet. Candlelight flickered across her chest as he looked down at her breasts. They were beautiful. Round, proud, barely any sag, and he knew they’d fill his massive hands easily. Her nipples, flushed tight and red, already pebbled under the cool air.

"They've grown."

"Hah." She laughed. "I was just eight-and-ten back then, M'lord. And the way you took me, it was no less than you taking my maidenhead."

He knew that wasn’t true. She hadn’t been a virgin when he’d fucked her back then. But really, considering his own size, that might as well be the case. 

"Mind if I take it again then?"

Ros laughed and, without replying, fell to her knees, nude, using her own discarded robes to cushion her knees on the cold floor. "Why ask when I have already… given myself to you?"

Her hand gripped his shaft, heavy and swollen, before her lips stretched around it. She sank down with a wet, suckling kiss, her mouth swallowing half of him at once.

"Uh… Gods!" Wylis nearly moaned. 

Her tongue pressed hard against the sensitive crown before swirling around the rim. She knew exactly where to touch him, exactly how to pull the sound from his chest. Slowly, hungrily, she slid lower until her lips couldn’t take any more, her jaw pried wide, and then she pulled back with a long, shivering suck. 

Her head bobbed in rhythm, each push forward followed by a stifled choke in her throat as the girth filled her mouth. She couldn’t take him whole, no woman could. What she managed already made her lips ache. Her cheeks hollowed, her tongue worked feverishly below, rolling him against her palate until her spit clung in shiny strands.

“Mmhh… Oohh—mmnnhh…Slurp...” she moaned around him, gurgling when the tip nudged too far and splattered her saliva down his length. 

Her hand pumped the slick inches she couldn’t reach, her fist twisting at the base as her mouth slurped noisily over the rest. Every time she drew back, a wet pop left her lips, only for her to sink down again, moaning into the hot stretch.

Wylis’s knuckles were white on the edge of the table. He didn’t dare grip her hair, didn’t dare use her mouth the way he so often did. Gods knew he had dragged women’s faces down his cock more than he should have. Lyanna craved it, the little minx, but the rest? Why had they let him? He didn’t know.

He only gritted his teeth and endured the fire as Ros pleasured him willingly, her own spit dripping down her chin to her breasts.

“Get up… Ros,” he growled.

She pulled off him with a wet gasp, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, then obediently rose to her feet.

Wylis pulled a chair aside into the open, turned her, and pressed her back until her smooth ass dropped into it. In one motion, he seized her legs, pulling her down the cushion until her back was arched against it. Her head tilted on the bottom of the high backrest, her chin nearly pressed to her chest. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just utterly exposing.

Her ass dangled off the edge, her knees drawn up beside her own face. The sight stopped him. 

Gods…

Her body was pale as snow, but the curve of her ass glowed in candlelight, and between her thighs her cunt glistened pink, ready and wet.

“Even your ass has gotten bigger,” he muttered, stroking one kneedable cheek with the edge of his thumb.

“For you to… Ohhh!” Her reply broke into a moan as his cockhead rubbed her entrance, smearing her juices across her sensitive folds. “P-pound—ooohhh!”

“Really?” he chuckled, pressing in slowly. 

His cock split her lower lips apart, inch after inch, burying into her scorching heat. He leaned forward, towering above her frame, his hands braced on the armrests as though he truly was preparing to pound straight down into her. 

"Gods! Y… You're bigger than I remember… How did I take you… back then." Ros writhed, her eyes wide, staring down between her breasts at the thick length sinking into her. 

"Ohhhh… Y-You're breaking me-mmmmh!" Her breath stuttered into broken cries as his girth stretched her walls. Her one hand slipped between her thighs, fingers circling her clit in desperate little flicks. She was already so close just from the merciless stretch, her body quivering around his cock.

Wylis watched in awe as Ros truly came undone on his cock. He pushed in slowly, one gentle thrust at a time, mesmerized as her snug, curvaceous body stretched around him. He could see where her limits clung, where her swollen petals struggled and yielded, stretched open to make way for its lord. He carved into her, widening her. And before he had even filled her halfway, she broke.

Her whole body tensed until its limits. 

“Aaaahhh!” she screamed, fingers thrashing across her clit. 

The gush came hard and fast, clear nectar squirting over his cock, spraying onto his thighs, splattering his tunic. She writhed under him, toes curling, her cunt spasming around his girth as jets of her release stained the cushion under her. She squirted, her moans breaking into helpless little sobs as her body surrendered to him.

“Ghh…” Wylis groaned, pulling free of her gripping cunt just as another gush spurted. 

His tunic was soaked. He only sneered, grabbed the cloth at the collar, and ripped it over his head. Naked now, he stood above her like a mountain, his cock wet with her lust, dripping heavy against his thigh.

The moment her orgasm faltered, when her gasps turned whimpers instead of shrieks, he drove back in. No pause, no mercy. His cock speared her halfway and started to pound. His hips slapped against her slick cunt relentlessly. His massive frame moved with brutal rhythm. He ground his cock in deep circles before pulling back, only to slam back down, wet flesh clapping, her juices dripping from the curve of her plump ass. 

Plap! Plap! Plap!

His every thrust sounded like wet leather slapped against stone, his balls swinging low and slapping the curve of her ass.

"Ungh, ungh, ungh!" Each plunge knocked the air out of her lungs.

Ros panted, eyes glazed, watching him hammer through her cunt, deeper and deeper until finally, his cock was all the way inside her. She felt splayed open, filled to her limit, her belly swelling with his shape.

"Fuck—Aaaaaah!" She cried out in pure bliss.

It felt insane. She felt every vein, every ridge dragging through her moist walls, scraping her raw in the most unholy way. The thick cockhead pressed so deeply she swore he was knocking the gates of her womb. Her finger was still abusing her sensitive bundle of nerves, the palm of her hand feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside her belly. Each stroke burned her, made her moan louder, left her shaking with too much pleasure to think straight.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The chair creaked under them, the wood groaning as he pounded down. 

Wylis loomed over her like a tower, one hand gripping the armrest, the other clamped to the backrest, holding himself above her trembling body. He looked down at her ruined face, her cheeks flushed, her hair tangled with sweat, her lips bitten red. Her tits jiggled wildly, one hand squeezing, her slender fingers twisting her own nipple as though begging for more pain to match the pleasure.

Her legs lifted high, ankles crossed in the air. Every thrust shook her body, jolting her magnificent swells.

“Uh, uh, uh, uhhh~” she groaned, every exhale ragged, trembling with the violence of his thrusts. Another climax was clawing at her already; she could feel it tearing through her core. And yet, she felt him too. His heat was building up, his cock twitching inside.

“C-can… can I… kiss you?” she gasped. It was a plea, a request, desperate and small against the roar of his pounding. Gods knew what came over her, but she felt the need. That, if he kissed her, it would wash away the last of her doubts, prove to her that he truly meant to keep her forever.

“With… pleasure,” he growled. With a sweep of his hand, he shoved papers and books from the table away, sending the items crashing to the floor.

In one swift motion, he lifted her from the chair, her wet thighs clinging around his waist, and dropped her flat on the wide table, on her back, her legs spread wide in his grip, and then he drove back into her delicious grip, pounding recklessly deep.

He leaned over her, his lips claiming one breast, then the other. His tongue lashed her nipple before he bit down hard enough to leave a mark, drawing a squeal from her throat. He suckled her like a babe, then went up to her lips, crashing into her mouth with a kiss as wet and bruising as his thrusts.

"Oooooooh… Thank you!" Ros gasped into him, her arms clinging around his thick shoulders as her body trembled underneath his colossal frame. Her spasms rolled through her as they kissed, each shudder more frantic than the last. 

Ecstasy ripped through her, wet and messy, her walls tightening in fluttering waves that drenched his cock. She trembled under him, her fluffy, pale thighs quaking, the table sticky with her release. Each slam of his hips only made her gush more, helpless under him.

She tried to wrap her legs around him, but he was too big, too broad. Still, her ankles locked behind his ass, heels digging into him to keep him rooted deep inside her.

“Uggggh… Gods, Ros… you do… feel like a… maiden!” Wylis groaned between thrusts, his voice heavy with pleasure.

She only giggled, her laughter melting into moans as he slammed in harder, faster, his cock sliding in and out of her soaked cunt like a piston. 

He couldn't tell if he really trusted her. Whether he could trust her fully, whether her sweet words hid schemes of her own. He didn’t know. But the way her body welcomed him, the way she broke beneath him, it was hard to think she had any plan other than this. 

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The table started shaking. Her tits jiggled wildly, her flushed face tilted back, hair spilling like a halo of fire.

Their lips met again, his tongue forcing her mouth open as he rammed deep, and then he finally let go.

He slammed into her womb and stayed buried as his cock erupted. The first gush was a flood, hot and creamy, spraying her deepest parts with an ungodly amount of seed. His balls clenched again and again, unloading everything until she felt drowned in it. Her pussy overflowed, swollen petals dripping white, the table slick with his virile batter.

Ros’s heels pressed him tighter, soft thighs caging him tight. She was desperate to keep him locked inside her. She wanted to feel it all, to know him in her belly, to hold every drop he gave her. Her cunt tightened with each pulse, milking him, making his seed bubble out in spurts.

“Ghk—ahhhh!” Wylis groaned, his cock jerking, spraying one last time as he resumed his slow, filthy thrusts. 

His shaft churned the mess, squelching lewdly as his cream frothed and spilled, fucking the filth deeper into her. The wet sounds were unholy, a chorus of lust that echoed in the late night.

But he was too spent, it was too late in the night, too heavy-eyed from the day. He let himself soften by pulling out, because otherwise… Lyanna was witness to how long he could go on if he let his cock stay inside.

"The Moon tea… Qyburn has jars of it." He stepped away from her, watched her lie flat on the table like an artpiece, her cunt dripping. 

Ros moaned, shoving her left hand down, her two fingers playing with her gaping pussy, rubbing his cum inside herself. Her other hand continued to play with her tits. 

"So?" She asked with a pant. "W-Will you… have me?"

"Aye, Ros. No running from me now."

She just giggled. In acceptance. In lust. In pleasure. In hope.

####

Dragonstone, 

"We should depart at once, Your Grace! Every moment we linger puts us in greater peril!"

Rhaella eyed Ser Willem Darry as the man stormed into her chambers. "What’s happened?"

"They’re gone, all of them. Every man who could lift a sword. What’s left are painted shields on the walls and a few frightened maids," Ser Willem said, his voice tight with worry. "We must flee while we can."

"How? They’ve surrounded Dragonstone, Ser. We’ll be caught before we ever reach open sea, despite the storm. No ship can slip past them, and a small boat won’t carry us far."

Ser Willem pressed a trembling hand to his brow. “We have to move before it’s too late. If not the sea, then Robert’s wrath will find us. And I’d sooner face the waves than his mercy.”

Thud!

Suddenly, a loud noise disturbed the stormy silence in the bedchamber. The sea was raging outside, and the sky was dazzling in constant thunder. 

"Hide, my Queen… Who's there?" Ser Willem shouted towards the massive open balcony, where two thick pillars stood on each corner, enough for someone to hide behind. Dragonstone was just designed so strangely. It felt eerie and sometimes ghostly. 

No response came. 

But Ser Willem was sure he saw a dark shadow there. He pulled out his sword and carefully approached the left pillar. "Come out, you assassin scum!"

"Fuck!" 

A curse echoed from behind the pillar. 

"Hello there."

And then a face peeked out, pitch-black like night, not a single hint of pale skin visible, as even the head was covered in a black scarf, as was the neck, and as the rest of the body became visible, the man was completely wrapped in tight black clothing, and… he was massive. 

"W-Who sent you? You shan't pass me!" Ser Willem declared, though the old man gulped since the creature before him radiated such a powerful presence. 

"We're on the same side, Ser Willem." 

"Lies! You think you can deceive me? You climbed a straight wall ten floors high? No man can! Die, you vile demon!"

"..."

Clank!

The giant man easily caught Ser Willem's blade with one hand, thumb and fingers pinching it. 

"D-Demonic strength!" Ser Willem tried to pull the blade, but he couldn't. 

"Listen, I know how this must look. I blackened my face to keep to the shadows. I’m only here for Rhaella, to take her with me."

Ser Willem sneered. 

"Ser Wylis?" Queen Rhaella's soft voice came from behind a cabinet where she was hiding. 

"There you are!"

Ser Willem found himself tossed sideways to the floor. He watched in horror as the man, the Tyrant of the Trident, the Champion of the Rebellion, the very man behind the Targaryen Dynasty's destruction, approached the Queen and…

"Oh, Wylis!"

The Queen embraced the enemy? Ser Willem frowned, enraged. He poured all his strength left and got up before rushing to the Northern giant, his blade drawn out to stab. "You ensnared the Queen? You vile—"

Clang!

He knew it. He knew he wasn't good enough. The Northern giant easily unsheathed the short-sword on his waist and parried his strike. 

"Run away, my Queen! Look… his sword drips with blood! He… he killed the maids!"

"What? Gods, no. I didn’t kill the maids."

"Then whose blood is that?"

"This… Uh, there was a bit of a mutiny aboard my ship, so I had to kill my sailors."

"..."

"..."

___________________

A/N: Next chapter will have slightly fewer smut elements and more kingdom building. Gotta balance things out.