The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 17 - Making of a Tyrant III: Glory, Ashara & Battlefield Sins

A/N: A majority voted for option 4 in the last poll. Viserys and Aegon will live… for now. They might die later. Especially Viserys. Fucker’s a time bomb.

Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CdDYRA8q5xTL60oNOn7WPCJfFA8AvhO22uaskqCdm0E/edit?usp=sharing

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Wylis wasn't sure about the last quest involving killing children, but he had every intention of completing the other two. 

Swoosh!

His first arrow pierced straight through the helmet of one of the Tarly men. Then came his second, and soon followed the third. 

Wylis never went close to them and shot arrows while riding. What mattered was to disrupt the momentum that Lord Tarly had gained. He circled, killed the men, and rushed away before anyone could respond. When some horsemen came after him, he cut them down easily by spooking their horses with a tiny, but sharp pebble sliding between their hooves. 

Single-handedly, he ended two dozen soldiers, and that was noticeable by Robert's side, gaining back momentum. The Tarly army's confidence stemmed from the guarantee that Tyrells would arrive with reinforcements. 

"Cut them down like pigs! No mercy for the Mad King's dogs!" Wylis shouted, finally stepping into the fray. He left his horse behind, gripping his greatsword with both hands.

Instead of joining Robert, Wylis joined the clash where Robert's men looked weak. He rushed and boosted morale while swinging his sword with certain death. He didn't move to the front like a mindless animal and only focused on supporting the men. 

The quest was clear: he needed victory while only receiving flesh wounds. But he also wanted to win fame, that was his personal quest. 

"Slit their throats! Stab their chests! I stand with you!" Wylis yelled and blocked a spear piercing his way. He deflected it and rammed his six-foot-long sword into the minor knight's chest, ending him. His sword alone was as long as their spears. 

Thud!

Thud!

At the same time, he was using earthbending to trip the enemy soldiers here and there. That gave plenty of chances to Robert's men to stab. 

"Haaa!" Wylis ensured the men knew why they were winning. He roared and kept his presence known at all times. 

Clank!

"Ha!"

He alone clashed with three men, overpowered them with pure strength, and his technique was impeccable. He blocked, countered, and spun—three heads flew in the air at the same time from a single strike.

In that battlefield, other than Robert, there was nobody who could challenge him much. The only men who could kill him were buried in dirt; some were still in King's Landing, and even then, they wouldn't succeed unless they came in crowds. 

"No time to slow down! Move your damn asses!" Wylis shouted as if he were their Lord. But they obeyed him anyway. A seven-foot-tall walking menace wasn't meant to be defied. 

Thud!

Thud!

Any enemy knight that was too good or posed a challenge to his men tripped and got stabbed. 

But this won't help me. 

Using Earthbending like that would earn him victory, but the glory wouldn't be his. Nobody knew he was the one tripping the enemies. For his future, to sire countless bastards with countless noble women, he needed legendary fame. 

"Out of my way! Tarly dies by my hand!"

No greater fame than killing the commanding Lord. 

And since there was already plenty of beef between him and House Tarly since the tourney, Wylis had no reason to hold back. He'd killed Lord Tarly's younger brother; that was a blood feud now. And he'd rather end it before it grew. 

"Aaaargh!"

"N-No!"

Wylis moved like the giant he was. He thrust his blade into four men at the same time, and then kicked the chest of the first man and pulled his blade out. When the other Tarly men tried to surround him, he made them trip, leaving him a way out, and when he walked, he made sure to slam his massive foot on chests as hard as he could. 

Slow, painful death with broken ribs and punctured lungs. Seeing that, fear seeped into those wanting to attack him. They'd rather fight him with a blade than come in his way. 

Fuck!

But Wylis did have a weakness. There were a lot of men with spears around him, and they made sure to poke him, stab him. The quest limited his injuries to flesh wounds, and he was careful of that. 

Clank!

Clash!

Dammit! I do need fucking plate armor. 

Ignoring the pricking stabs, he continued to storm forward, leading Robert's men. He cut through the battlefield and inched closer to Lord Tarly. Robert was on the other side, so the man couldn't see him. 

"Give me that!" Wylis shouted and grabbed a spear aimed to stab him. He yanked it closer, pulled the man holding it. In a quick motion, he beheaded the soldier and threw that same spear with precision. 

"Neeeeeigh!"

Not far away, a horse whinnied in pain and raised its front hooves, but instead of stopping, it fell backward entirely. Lord Tarly, on its back, was crushed down by the horse's weight. 

"POUR YOUR LIFE INTO IT!" Wylis roared and wasted no time. He stopped holding back on Earthbending as well, making men stumble, slip, or just get stuck. They wouldn't live to tell the tale anyway. 

Slash!

Splatter!

He beheaded, and that was his signature move for the realm to remember. Being a man so tall, it was easier for him to aim at their heads than at their bodies. 

Woosh!

Each swipe of his blade ended lives. 

A clear path was paved in blood and corpses. And soon, he stood before the fallen horse and Lord Tarly stuck underneath it. 

Future or now, he'll die anyway. 

"So why not now?!" 

With a roar, Wylis butchered the last few knights standing who tried to protect their lord. When he truly reached crippled Lord Tarly, the man looked as if he’d accepted death. There was no begging, no pleading, no talking. It was pathetic to go down without even a fight, but far more shameful to beg.

Slash!

Wylis swung his blade low and with buttery smoothness, beheading the Lord of Horn Hill. Then, he did what he should: spread his name. He grabbed the chopped head, removed the helmet, and raised it by the balding hair for all to see. 

"Your Lord is dead! Surrender!"

Wylis roared as loud as he could, holding the head high above him. Plenty of heads turned, and following those, others turned. Of course, not all of them would surrender as they were the Tyrell army, not the Tarly. Yet, once the first man dropped the sword, it was impossible for others to stop. 

Clank!

Thud!

In no time, the battle was over. 

"Oh?"

Wylis noticed something beside the headless body of Lord Tarly. It was a jeweled scabbard, holding a large greatsword. 

"Such wonderful luck, I'll cherish it." Wylis grabbed the sword, the famed two-handed Valyrian steel sword, Heartsbane. 

Of course, he was wrong to take it. By common logic, he was entitled to arms and armor for killing a lord in open battle. But heirlooms were different; they were tied to noble houses, not to one lord. 

Yet, Wylis didn't care. Why should he when he was fighting for the winning side? One word from Robert after taking the throne and the sword would become the House Kaiser's official property. 

"BAHAHA! You wild ox! I thought you'd grown roots or died drunk in a ditch! Where the hell have you been?"

Robert roared past the surrendered men, laughing, grinning, sweating, and gave Wylis a brotherly hug like they were long-lost childhood friends.  

Wylis let out a short laugh and tossed Randyll's head aside. "Been hunting in Kingswood, waiting on your sorry ass to show up. The Mad King lost it, fucker wanted to sacrifice me and make a stew out of my body for some magical dragon blessing."

Wylis deliberately revealed that information since nobody knew it. He needed the people to know why he ran away from King's Landing. That he wasn't loyal to the Mad King. 

"Oh? Ha! No damn wonder he’s offering a million gold for your head. But it ends now." Robert declared. "We'll bash that bastard's head on the Iron Throne he squats on. First though, we take the silver-haired whore-son who stole my Lyanna and feed him to the wolves."

Wylis' jaw tightened subtly. He ended up nodding and agreeing to it all. He didn't hate Robert. Heck, he somewhat liked the man. Sure, he'd be a shit king, but as a man of war, Robert was gifted. 

But Lyanna was one girl he would never give up on. She may have been promised to Robert, and belonged to him by right, but to Wylis, she belonged to him by love. And now, their son. 

"Let’s not linger. We should rally with Eddard while we still can. Ashford won’t hold long, and there’s no use wasting men here. The Tyrells have numbers; we don’t. Storm’s End may be their next move. Best to warn them to gather food and steel the walls for a long siege."

Robert wasn't dumb. He was already on the verge of losing, if not for Wylis managing the losing side of the battlefield. "Aye, let's do that. Ned's waiting on us."

With that, after stripping the Tyrell army of their armor, taking their blades, and gathering all that material, Robert and Wylis galloped North. They didn't use the main roads, and on the way, attacked minor noble houses of the Reach, plundering their wealth. Robert, at times, also plundered women. 

This time, there were going to be more bastards than expected, Wylis reckoned.

"Gods, it's good to have you back, Wylis. You're a damn fine sword to have at my side!" 

Wylis never failed to remind Robert how lucky he was to have him. 

Wylis proved with his fighting skills and ideas that he was worth having as a commander. It was a slow process, but Wylis used that time with Robert to earn some place in the future King's mind. Not as core as Ned, that wasn't possible, but perhaps something close to it. 

"Just doing what's right, Robert." 

Humble, ambitious, and insanely powerful. For now, that was the impression he developed. It was time to make Robert feel indebted to him, so much so that when he'd ask for lordship, Robert would have no reason to decline. 

"Right thing, aye—Gods, they took my Lyanna."

Wylis sighed and just accepted Robert's drunk rambling each night. As far as he knew, Robert and Lyanna had barely met a handful of times. Even fewer times they'd spoken with each other. There was no romance between them. Not even friendship.

No, Robert was just infatuated by Lyanna. By the idea of Lyanna. A girl different from most blue-blooded ones. A girl who swung blades, shot arrows, drank ale, and cursed in the same breath.

Maybe Lyanna would have fixed Robert. Maybe Lyanna would've made a decent king out of Robert. 

But none of that mattered anymore. 

Hmm… A Tyrant takes what he wants. And Lyanna is mine, and only mine. 

He was starting to accept what Tyrant's Squire called him often. 

After all, it was his future.

####

Starfall, Dorne.

With the help of Qyburn, Lyanna was able to gain an audience with Ashara. But it wasn't inside the castle since entering it was far too challenging during an ongoing rebellion. While Dorne remained untouched, it was still on alert. 

At the port town near the castle, Lyanna and Qyburn waited in a high-class inn. 

Knock! Knock!

It was during the middle of the day when the knocks came. Qyburn went over and opened the door, allowing Ashara to walk inside, covered in a hooded cloak to hide herself. She didn't bring any guards or friends along. 

She had every reason to hide this. 

"Who are you? Why did you mention Wylis?" Ashara stormed into the inn and questioned the short-haired woman, seated on a chair with a babe in her arms. 

"I am Ellyn Kaiser," Lyanna replied, her own face somewhat conflicted despite the show of confidence. "Please, have a seat, Lady Ashara. It’s Wylis who sent me… for you, and for the babe you carry.”

"What?!" Ashara stumbled back, her hand involuntarily reaching for her belly. She wasn't that far along in her pregnancy that it'd show. She hadn't shared a word with anyone. "W-Who told you that?"

“Wylis did. Aye, I was just as stunned. How could he know, being so far from it all? I asked myself the same, and I’ve yet to find peace in the answer.”

Ashara's eyes darted towards the babe in the woman's arms. Then the words repeated in her head. She stared at the babe once again and got a good look at the face. The hints were… visible. The size of the babe alone said it all. 

"T-That… child…"

"Magnus Kaiser," Lyanna revealed. "He is… our son. Ashara, before I wed, he told me everything—told me the truth of what passed between you. He grieved the betrothal he broke, grieved what it cost you. I know the child wasn’t planned. I know. That’s why I came. He was afraid for you. Wylis… Wylis has given his word. He’ll see you safe. You and the babe both."

Ashara gulped and finally took a seat. Her thin brows remained creased while she stared at the babe. She digested the words that this woman was Wylis' wife. The mother of his child. And yet, he somehow convinced her to help her? 

"He told me he loves someone," Ashara said. "But… does this… do I not bother you?"

"It does bother me. But I believe Wylis is someone who's better left unrestrained." Lyanna lied. Of course, it affected her. Although she'd accepted the reality that Wylis would sire bastards, it still stung. "I love him, and he loves me in his way. Lady Ashara, your babe—boy or girl—will be fierce, and clever, and so heartbreakingly lovely it will make the gods weep. Wylis is… he feels…"

"Magical?" Ashara gave a faint, bitter smile. "Yes… I suppose that’s what it felt like. I understand now why I clung to him so tightly. But he’s a husband now. The betrothal was not our choice, and this child… Gods, I asked for that night. I won’t tear your life apart, Lyanna. I won’t be that woman."

Lyanna frowned hard. 

"Don't worry, you’re not easy to recognize, not for most. But I saw you. At the tourney… the way you looked at Wylis. I-I knew. Because I looked at him the same. It’s hard to forget the face of the woman you’re losing to."

Lyanna shook her head and smiled kindly. If anything, what Ashara said calmed her. She didn't want to befriend a woman who'd aim to remove her and take her position. "Ashara, believe me,  I came because Wylis asked, and I understand now. What happened between you two—it's not mine to erase. I see it in your eyes, you still care. So come with me. Wylis will have a castle soon, with more rooms than we know what to do with. There’s space enough for all our ghosts."

“And then… what? What am I supposed to be after that? A quiet, forgotten maid in a castle?”

Lyanna's jaw tightened, but she said it. "A guest, a friend, and a mother. The gods have their laws, but a heart doesn’t listen to laws. It just is. So let’s follow that."

It was getting hard for Lyanna. To willingly share her man with someone else. There were insecurities, what if Wylis falls for them and forgets her? What if Wylis no longer wants her? But she tried to have faith. 

It was better to be the one to extend the hand to his other women. She couldn't control these women, but it was better to ensure there was no delusion in them that they could take her place. 

"And… I'm sure Wylis wants a big brood. I alone can't give him that."

This, too, she compelled herself to accept. It was a reality she couldn't escape from. Wylis needed to sire children, and women to bear him children, as many as possible. 

Silence lingered between them for some time after that. Ashara rubbed her hands, her feet twitching on the floor. She licked her dry lips, gulping breaths at times. There weren't many choices anyway. If she stayed and appeared pregnant, House Dayne would be dishonored. 

"C-Can… Can I hold him?"

Lyanna kindly smiled and handed baby Magnus to her. "I can't wait to see the precious little one you'll bring into this world."

Without realizing, Ashara also smiled, eyeing the baby. She caressed him, and when the baby grabbed her finger, Ashara just melted. Her desire to have the child was never in question, but now it was even more potent. 

"W-Where will we go, Ellyn?" 

"Oldtown."

####

Red Keep, King's Landing.

"Aaaaaaargh… Aaaaaaannn—!"

“Ha... hahahaha... burn, traitor, burn! I see you, yes! I see your lies crawling on your skin. One of them, yes, one of them!”

Yet another nobleman was burning within the King's court. The green flames reached high and burned the man to ashes. His sin? Merely suggesting that Prince Rhaegar hand back Lyanna Stark. 

"Barristan… Barristan, where—where are they? Where’s Dayne? Where’s Whent? Hightower, the white sword tower’s gone dim! My Kingsguard, my shields, gone! The wolves howl, the stags slobber like dogs, and the dragon… the dragon cannot wait, no, no. I want their heads! Bring me fire! I’ll burn them, I’ll burn them all!"

“Your Grace, half the realm scours the land for the Kingsguard, and the rest hunts for Ser Wylis. We shall—”

Bam!

“Your Grace!” Pycelle puffed as he entered, robes swaying, a servant trailing behind with a box of polished oak. “A rider from the Tyrell host—he… he brought this. Quickly, lad, open it—show His Grace!”

The servant rushed to open the box, revealing the severed head of a balding man. 

"L-Lord Randyll Tarly, Your Grace," Pycelle wheezed, bowing low. "There was… a skirmish near Ashford. The one who struck him down was—was Ser Wylis, Your Grace."

"My champion?" Aerys whispered, then burst into laughter, wild and high. "Champion! Yes! Burn a thousand Tarlys and he stands—still stands! He’s with the wolves now, yes, yes, howls at my gate. Barking! Hah! My dog dares bark! I’ll rip his tongue with fire. I’ll show him the dragon’s teeth. Barristan! Seize him! Break his legs, chain his neck. Let the beast crawl to the dragon’s throne! Connington! You, you bring me my beast!"

Who could say no to the King in that court? 

All simply bowed and went to do their work. 

####

Ting!

[Tyrant's Bastard Detected!]

[Son(Bastard) - Wenda the White Fawn
Life Points Available - 10]

[Strength - 3/10
Dexterity - 2/10
Intelligence - 0/10
Charisma - 0/10
Vitality - -2/10]

Minus two? What?!

It was about time Wenda gave birth, but he wasn't happy with himself. His initial plan to send Qyburn was derailed because Lyanna was pregnant. Now, Wenda, alone, with god knows which midwife, had given birth. 

Ting!

[Tyrant's Bastard Dying!]
[Time for death - 3 Minutes!]

It's got to be Vitality. Something must have happened. I hope Wenda is alright.

Without wasting time, Wylis distributed the ten Life Points. 

[Strength - 3/10
Dexterity - 2(+1)/10
Intelligence - 0(+1)/10
Charisma - 0(+3)/10
Vitality - -2(+5)/10]

Ting!

[Tyrant's Bastard Healthy!]

[Lifespan increased by 1 year!]
[Remaining Lifespan - 66 Years]

It was all about vitality in the end. It was truly a blessing that he could remotely save his son. Even more surprising was how strong the lad was already. Three points in Strength and two points in Dexterity. Magnus only had one for Strength and one for Vitality. It was clear, Wenda's genes were blessed to produce more strength. 

I'll see you soon, Wenda. 

That was also a worry. What if Wenda disappeared with his son? He had every intent to keep the child and raise him. Other than noble women, he wanted to keep every sired bastard. After all, they were all guaranteed to be absolutely loyal to him. 

Sighing, he got out of his creaky bed and put on his loose tunic. It was dimly lit with a candle, a basement storage room meant for holding wine and cheese, but now his humble abode in Stoney Sept.

He and Robert had arrived there with the leftover Baratheon men. They were now waiting for Eddard and Hoster Tully to arrive with their combined armies. However, while Wylis tried to keep a low profile, which was impossible for his size, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms was enjoying himself. 

Having holed up in the basement of the Peach, an inn and a brothel, Robert utilized the whores very well. By now, Robert had fucked every whore that worked there, and each night took two or three to his bed. 

Wylis, being a simple man with needs, traveling non-stop with no outlet, used the services of the women. But he didn't fuck any of them, only made use of their mouths or hands. He honestly couldn't bring himself to fuck them after seeing Robert plow them like they were mindless toys for him.

Like usual, it was night, and the brothel wasn't that busy. Thanks to Robert being there. Yet when Wylis arrived upstairs, there was plenty of noise, mostly Robert grunting and the women moaning. 

The signs were always there. Wylis saw firsthand why Robert was a bad King but a great warrior. Only good with weapons. 

He spanned his gaze at the inn turned full-time brothel. All the other men there were from the Baratheon army, but none were fucking the whores. How could they when Robert had reserved them all. 

Of course, that didn't apply to Wylis.

"Anything to drink, Ser?"

At the lovely, soft voice, Wylis turned to look at the woman, standing there fully naked, holding a pitcher of ale. Her head reached till his chest as they all did, and she had fantastic, round tits, a curvy body, wide hips, and pale skin. Her hair was long and black, and her eyes were grey. She was Robert's favorite whore, and Wylis knew why. She resembled Lyanna to a small degree. 

No wonder he sired a bastard with her. 

While Wylis didn't know if she was already bred by Robert, that didn't change the fact that she had the best mouth in the brothel. 

"Aye, a cup and… lips too."

The whore smiled and led Wylis to a nearby bench. She pushed him to take a seat, filled a cup for him, and then got down on her knees between his legs. Using her soft, dainty fingers, she untied his trousers and fetched his nude, throbbing, hard cock. 

"Ummmh…" With a drunken arousal, the whore squeezed his cock flat against her face and kissed his base like it was some treasure. "You have the finest cock I have ever seen, Ser. So lovely, warm, and… mmm… big."

Wylis chuckled, relaxed back while sipping wine. He didn't need to use his hands to guide her. "Are you sure?"

Getting the hint, she looked towards Robert, a whore jumping on his lap, one letting him suckle her globes, and the third getting her cunt fucked by his fat fingers. 

Giggling, the whore looked back at Wylis and put a finger to her lips. "Shhh… Just between us."

"Hah, alright." Wylis then let her do her job and just enjoyed that warm sensation. He was sure that if he weren't a knight, she wouldn't have bothered with him. Not unless paid. But now, she never asked for coin. Not even once. 

She gathered her thick black hair into a messy bun behind her head, securing it hastily with a strip of leather from her wrist. Then she rose up on her knees, his height made it impossible otherwise, and wrapped both hands around his cock, wrenching it up toward her face.

"Gods, you have a fine mouth!" Wylis groaned as she took him.

Her lips parted, soft and plump, and she pressed the tip of his cockhead to them. The swollen crown alone stretched her mouth into a perfect circle of sin, forcing her jaw wide open.

“Mmm…” she moaned sensually, a purring sound of delight, like the flavor of him had struck some hunger inside her.

Her lips sealed tight, suckling just the head with slow reverence. Her tongue stretched wide, slick and eager. It slid along the underside of his cock, tracing the sensitive ridge like she was tasting molten gold. Her mouth clamped down, cheeks hollowing with every slow, wet pull. The tight seal around his tip created a vacuum so intense, he felt his pulse in his cock, every beat magnified inside the heat of her mouth.

Wylis groaned under his breath, jaw tightening as the pleasure rippled through him. 

He could feel it. Every bump, every vein, every ridge stroked and kissed and suckled with greed. When her head lifted slightly, her tongue would curl and flick over the tiny slit at his tip, teasing the rawest part of him with unholy skill. Then she plunged back down, burying him to the limit her throat could take, the back of her mouth smothering his cockhead with tight, pulsing contractions.

She only managed half of his length before it choked her, gagging slightly, the sound wet and raw like something was being forced into her far past her limit.

But she didn’t stop. She pushed down again, fighting against the reflex. His cock knocked against the back of her throat, like it was battering down the gates of her sanity. Her lips strained to stay sealed, jaw aching from the stretch. And still… she licked. 

His heat radiated like a fever, and she wanted more. Her hands slid up his thighs, kneading his muscles with worshipful hunger, then cupped his heavy sac and rolled it in her palms like a prize.

Wylis’ vision blurred with each bob of her head, his hips twitching on their own as her throat clamped down and pulled him deeper into bliss. Her tongue was a serpent, sliding, curling, even flicking at the slit with maddening licks. 

When she suckled his sensitive frenum, it was like the gods had struck lightning into his spine. He groaned, a sharp, guttural sound of surrender, one hand shooting into her bun and fisting her hair tight.

She didn’t flinch. Not even when he pulled. That lustful smile crept to the corners of her stretched lips. She was pleased with herself, drunk on the power she held in her mouth. She kept slurping sloppily, letting her spit drool down his shaft in long, glistening ropes. Her hands stayed in motion, stroking the base, her fingers gliding over where her mouth couldn’t reach.

Eventually, Wylis let go of her hair. There was no need to guide her. 

She was locked in a rhythm now, grinding her throat on him with a hunger that felt almost personal. He leaned back, arms resting lazily, and just watched her do all the work. Nothing was more arousing than seeing a woman swallow him down of her own free will. No coin, no commands, no shame.

"Hah, Wylis!" Robert rumbled from the side. "That one's my favorite. Be easy on her—Taking her to bed tonight, don’t go bruising the best parts!"

Hmm, so he'll sire the bastard tonight? God knows.

He ignored Robert's annoying groaning and moaning and just focused on watching the beautiful face sucking him with an itch to wring him dry. She suckled him, licked him like a candy, nudged her face under his heavy balls, seeking treasure. She knew all the right ways to make a man spill. 

"Ser…" She voiced, looking at him while her hand furiously stroked him. "Won't lie with me?"

Wylis shook his head. "I think one giant's enough for you."

"But… I want this one." She added her other hand to stroke him as well. One handled the top and the other handled the base. 

That needy tone, that constant lust for more, it grated on him. Wylis didn’t want her to talk. He didn’t want to fuck her. He wanted her silent.

So he grabbed her hair tight and shoved her face down on his cock.

There was no warning. Just the sudden, brutal force of his hand driving her down. Her throat expanded around his iron-hard shaft, gagging, stretching, swallowing more than it ever had. Her eyes blew wide for a moment, but she didn’t fight. She took it. Mouth open, jaw slack, she let his hard male heat fill her throat like a sheath being jammed full of steel.

Her hands stopped stroking. She laid her palms flat on his hard, wide thighs, grounding herself for what came next. Her body went loose, slack, and ready. She let Wylis use her face like a sloppy cunt.

Wylis did exactly that. He gripped her hair in one hand, tight like reins, and started to thrust. He fucked her face, truly fucked it. Slamming her face down, pulling her back, ramming her down again. His cock throbbed with heat, her spit acting like lube, making each plunge wetter, deeper, nastier. 

She choked with every stroke, but she never pulled away.

"Agk! Agk! Agk!"

The sounds turned messy. Wet and gurgling, her throat bubbling as his cock violated her depths. Her face was ruined. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin and splattering across her tits. A fine outline of his thick flesh sword bulged along her slender neck, and still she took it. 

Her eyes rolled, glassy and wide, shimmering with tears. Stars danced behind her eyelids, but she didn’t tap out. No slaps on his thighs. No flinching. Just the guttural sound of her mouth being used.

"Gaaaah! Fuck!" 

Wylis felt the throb at the base of his cock, his balls pulling tight, and without mercy, he slammed her face down again. More than half his fat cock disappeared into her ruined throat, her lips stretched to the limit.

He held her there, face impaled on his shaft, while the first thick burst of batter exploded from his cock. It splashed the back of her throat like boiling tar. The second shot was heavier, hotter, creamy, and endless. He throbbed hard inside her, each pulse ejecting more of that filthy, gooey load straight into her throat. 

She gurgled, her throat convulsing helplessly. She gripped his breeches, holding herself in place, refusing to let him out.

He kept her there until he was sure she had tasted every drop, until his balls were drained and his cock twitched in the aftermath.

Finally, when her gagging grew harsh, when she buckled slightly, Wylis loosened his grip and pulled her head back. Slowly. 

His phallus dragged out of her throat with a slick, wet squelch, but he didn’t let the tip leave her mouth. He kept it locked between her flushed, glossy lips, resting heavy on her tongue, feeding her the last few drops like a reward.

“Mmm…” she moaned, panting through her nose, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. She looked up at him, face streaked with tears and spit, and swallowed. 

Not just once, but twice. Gulping down his filth like it was something she had longed for. Her throat bobbed as she drank him down, and when she was done, she opened her mouth slightly to show him; empty.

Wylis smirked and let go of her hair entirely. 

She immediately dipped down, tongue sliding along his shaft, licking him clean with long, worshipful strokes. Like a good whore who knew her place, hoping her cunt would be the next thing he filled.

Wylis went back to drinking and watching. Seeing how pretty this whore was, he thought of something. Not ethical, for sure, but it was also something of a public service. 

What if I take the bastard girl she'll birth? She'll have Robert's blood. 

He wondered how strong his children with Robert's bastard daughters would be. Perhaps hitting five points in strength by birth? 

Isn't there another girl in Vale? What if…

He was curious, but not so sure if it was the right thing to do. Bella, the daughter this whore would give birth to, would become a whore after growing up as well. As for the girl in Vale, she didn't have an easy, happy life either. So, by bringing them into his baby-making-industrial-complex, he'd be giving them a far more comfortable and luxurious life. 

Would they mind it? 

Wylis did consider himself pretty handsome. If even Cersei was feeling it, it had to be true. And he was also a knight now, soon to be a lord, rich, and famous.

Something to ponder for sure. 

"Mmm… Clean as you like it, Ser."

Wylis took out a silver coin and gave it to the whore. He had no plans to use her services again, as he already had something else planned.  

####

With time to spare, Wylis saw no need to go for the whores. There was no joy in it, nor satisfaction. Besides, why chase whores when he could easily woo smallfolk women? A handsome knight, tall as a mountain, well spoken like a prince. All he had to do was walk across the town shirtless once, and he instantly had all the eyes on him. 

Then, he visited the market at the center of the town during the daytime, made small talk with women, and easily marked a few of them. He deliberately didn't go for the unwed, young virgins. One, they expected marriage; two, they were inexperienced. 

No, Wylis went after a young, childless widow named Anna. The poor woman lost her husband to fever just a year into her marriage two years ago. Since then, she'd been living alone, farming vegetables and selling them in the market. 

Wylis flirted with her, and she flirted back. She invited him for dinner, and he ate more than just dinner. She wasn't the most beautiful of them all, above average, light brown hair, round face, dark eyes, small tits, but wide hips, and on the shorter side, even shorter than Lyanna. But she was tight, and no whore in the brothel could match that. 

He pounded her all night underneath him, against the wall, lifted her up as he drilled her, showed her ways a man could take a woman, ways she never even imagined. Each time, before finishing, he asked her where. Each time she said outside. 

As the days passed, Anna was under no delusions that he loved her or that he'd marry her. She liked him in bed during those days, the way he filled her so much she'd feel it throb under her belly. The way he folded her, pressed her down, took her against the wall, or randomly while she was cooking. It was the spice she felt was missing from her life after her husband's death. 

Wylis never complained. She cooked him fantastic meals and then let him bed her as much as he desired. To him, it was perfect. Though he did offer her to later come and live in his castle and work as a normal maid. He planned to eventually breed her, but that was a discussion for later. 

For now, he was content. And since Jon Connington with the Targaryen forces had arrived and was already searching for Robert in the city, he couldn't go out either. He had nothing to do but bed Anna.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah—"

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Anna moaned continuously, feeling her temporary lover's weighted thrusts plow the life and breath out of her, knocking her womb with his cock like mocking how she should've birthed a few babes by now. 

"Ooooh… A-Again… Gods!" 

Wylis smirked, seeing her light frame writhing underneath him as she came yet again. With both her legs flat against his chest, her feet dangling beside his ears, he was really plowing her down. He folded her like origami, and he fucking loved doing women like that because that way, thanks to his height, he got to watch it all—her pussy stretched gaping wide to take his fat cock in, her tits jiggle with each smacking thrust, and her face scrunch in pleasure, passion, and a tinge spice of pain.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

He leaned further down, resting his hands beside her face, practically folding her spread wide legs into her. He'd done her like that plenty of times already, so they were used to it. He knew her tolerance, and she knew he wouldn't go too far. Heck, she liked that threatening weight on top of her, making her feel like he'd crush her any moment, only to feel his hot, squelching cock knock air out of her lungs. 

"Ugh…!" Wylis groaned, close to finishing. 

"Wylis… Aaaaah… Gods… Y… You will be… missed!" Anna moaned and did her best to lift her face. She pecked his lips lightly and then lost it, her eyes threatening to roll up, her pussy hot, burning, and shivering in endless spasms. She launched a wave of squirts on his invading cock, reshaping her womanhood for no other man to ever satisfy. 

"Oooooooh… Mmmm… This… is… mad…" She mumbled and sprayed his cock. 

Wylis kept his jaw clenched as he was so close. He let the woman climax first, and when she was finally done, he pulled back, letting her legs fall down spread wide. He grabbed his freed cock and stroked a few times before—

"Ngh… I’m gonna…"

A watery, substantial spray of white, musky heat coated Anna's delicate frame. From her cunt to her belly to her tits dotted with hickies, now covered in his virile cream. It burned on her bare, pale skin. 

"Mmm…" Anna moaned, taking in deep breaths as his scent hit her. She often found it strange how much he always released. But she soon found it rather arousing. Feeling his viscous warmth slide over her frame like a liquid quilt. 

Wylis just sat there, his cock softening slowly. Slightly out of breath, he eyed his artwork with satisfaction.

It's been weeks. When will—

Ding!... Ding!...

Right then, the town's sept's bells echoed outside.  

Finally! Some goddamn action! 

Wylis wasted no time and got out of bed. He wiped himself clean and started putting on his clothes. Although he now had full body armor thanks to Robert, he didn't wear it as the battle was going to be fought within the city. Then, he grabbed his sword, not the usual six-foot greatsword, but instead the Valyrian steel Heartsbane, his trophy.

"Anna, stay inside." 

Warning her, Wylis stormed out of the house and ran towards the highest building in the area. He went upstairs and climbed onto the terrace to get a better look at the situation. He knew they were going to win this one, but he had a specific goal in mind. 

Where are you? 

From a distance, he saw a lot of men rushing into the town. They were the forces of Lord Stark and Lord Tully. But Wylis only focused on Lord Hoster Tully and watched where he was going. The forces split up and poured into the streets. Soon, the clashes of swords started to echo—streets, alleys, and rooftops, and fights erupted everywhere. 

Wylis jumped from one rooftop to another. He followed wherever Lord Hoster went, waiting for the right moment to join the battle. 

Where is he now? 

He avoided fights and stayed focused. 

Lord Connington… come out now. 

Victory was guaranteed. So that left room for earning fame. And there was no greater fame than killing the commander of an army. Jon Connington, who, if not killed, would one day become a threat, and Wylis wasn't going to allow that. 

The realm may not know, but Wylis did. Jon Connington had the hots for Rhaegar Targaryen, calling him ‘my silver prince’ whenever reminiscing. What would such a man do if he later found out that Wylis had saved the likes of Rhaella and Rhaenys? The man was as loyal to the Targaryens as one could be.

And knowing that Lord Hoster Tully was injured by Connington in the Battle of the Bells, Wylis followed him. 

Ding!... Ding!...

The sept continued to ring the bells to warn the people to stay inside. The battle raged on. Robert had likely joined by now, somewhere in the town. Eddard was somewhere else. 

Clank!

"THERE!"

One single glimpse, and Wylis jumped down from the terrace. Earthbending made foot-sized steps for him on the wall, and in seconds, he was on the ground. He ran towards the ongoing skirmish where Jon Connington had appeared, hair and beard fiery red. 

Lord Hoster Tully had eight men, and Jon Connington had struck with ten. It was a narrow road between buildings, so the area was limited. 

"Surrender to the King, Lord Tully! There is still enough left to salvage!" 

"And let the Mad King burn me and my house?" Hoster retorted and surged ahead to attack. But he wasn't in the best shape of his military career. He was instantly disarmed and kicked back. To save Hoster, Ser Denys Arryn came to aid, but he was slain by Jon and Ser Myles Mooton. 

Wylis arrived right then and rushed in with Heartsbane, using the element of surprise. He lunged past the fallen Lord Hoster Tully, and his Valyrian steel cleaved through the first knight’s chainmail like it was parchment, splitting iron and an arm in a single thrust. 

Blood sprayed, and the man dropped with a scream cut short.

"Shit!" Ser Myles Mooton cursed, becoming aware of Wylis. He quickly changed direction and prepared to face the giant man. "The King's beast is out."

By then, Hoster Tully's men were dead, leaving six men, including Jon Connington and Ser Myles Mooton, standing. They focused on Wylis right away and spread out, circling around him, creating a cage of swords.

Fuck, should've used a bow first.

Wylis suffered from Hoster Tully's men's incompetence.

"Ha!"

One of the knights swung high. Wylis ducked, rammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, and cracked ribs on impact. The knight crumpled backwards, and Wylis used that chance. He pivoted, arched Heartsbane low, and stabbed through the man's chest, the best trick against chainmail. 

"One down, five to go." He roared at them. "Come on then!"

They did. But still, they didn't all attack him at the same time, still holding onto their silly knight code or some other nonsense.

Two rushed him, blades high. Wylis didn’t backpedal, no, he lunged forward with full force and struck. 

Clank!

Steel met steel, but his was overpowering. Sparks flew, and with that, he started to push the two men back. 

Swoooo~

Thud!

Wylis twisted one of their swords using the blade's edge and the rain-guard, sending it spinning onto the ground. Suddenly unarmed, the knight was shocked and, his mistake, not wearing a helmet. 

Bam!

Wylis elbowed, cracking the disarmed knight's jaw, teeth shattering. While he cowered, Wylis focused on the other knight and used Earthbending, making him knock his toes and stumble forward. 

Stab!

Wylis did nothing; the knight simply fell on his sword and impaled his guts. When Wylis pulled the blade out, blood sprayed. 

Woosh!

The jaw-cracked knight lost his head the next moment. A single slash so fast, the man didn't even get to regret not wearing a helmet. 

"Three down!" Wylis eyed the remainder. "Three to go!"

“You wild beast!” Ser Jon Connington finally came at him.

Wylis dodged backwards in time, letting Jon's blade kiss his shoulder. But countering, he planted his boot and backhanded Jon with the flat of his blade. 

Jon staggered, snarling.

"Haaa!" Jon lunged again. He was more excited by the prospect of glory for cutting down Wylis.

Clank!

Wylis caught the blow on Heartsbane and stepped inside, grappling Jon's arm. 

"Aaaaa!" 

Then—

CLANG! 

From the right, Ser Myles Mooton jumped in, his sword aimed at Wylis' head.

Wylis quickly let Jon go and dropped, rolled away before surging to his feet. A third knight tried to pound on Wylis at that moment, but instead tripped forward right in front of Wylis' feet. 

Slash!

Wylis stabbed him in the neck and ended him like it was some joke. That left only two men.

Myles circled left and Connington right.

Wylis adjusted his grip. Blood ran down his bicep; he didn't know when it was stabbed through the chainmail. But it didn't matter; he kept moving.

"Hah!"

Myles feinted low and stabbed high. Wylis swayed back, avoiding the point. Connington came in behind at the same time to stab. But Wylis ducked and avoided that, while throwing his blade on his back to avoid Myles from hitting him there. 

Clank!

Hoster… is he? 

Wylis took a quick glance towards Hoster and found him lying flat on the ground, awake but unmoving. 

No point holding back. 

With no extra eyes watching, Wylis turned back to the two knights. He took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. Fighting six men at the same time was annoying, and managing the quest was hard. A lesson learned, he reckoned. 

Never doing this shit again. 

But now only two were left. 

"Is that all you got?" He taunted them. Jon clearly looked like someone chasing glory. "Six against one, and still losing."

"We'll see!" 

Myles came from the left and Jon from the right. They moved together, almost identical, trying to leave Wylis vulnerable on one side at least. 

"Too slow."

Clank!

Wylis stepped backwards and made a bump on the ground in front of their armored toes. 

Thud!

The two knights stumbled into each other like children. 

"Ha!"

Woosh!

Myles stabbed at the gut, and Jon slashed a sideways strike towards the shoulder. Wylis again stepped backwards and made the two knights stumble. 

That same scene repeated two more times. Finally, Jon and Myles halted and began questioning what was going on. Once or twice was luck, but they kept stumbling each time. It was as if Wylis was blessed by some God with protection. 

"WYLIS! THERE YOU ARE!"

"Hm?" Wylis looked to the side, and there was Robert, alone, blood covering him from head to toe, holding his hammer high. 

"Hah! You've found the good ones!" 

"Kill him!" Jon discarded Wylis entirely and rushed towards Robert with no care in the world, like there was no greater goal, no greater glory than to kill Robert. Myles also followed after. 

"Leave these to me! You've had your fun, Wylis!" Robert roared.

And Wylis did just that. He didn't interfere and let Robert fight the two knights. 

This Rebellion… Wylis was deep in thought, however. Seeing Robert there reminded him of something. 

Robert's the main actor, not me. 

And that meant it was Robert who wanted to kill Rhaegar the most. It was Robert who would claim the right to kill the Prince. Even if Wylis had Rhaegar under his foot, Robert would still demand that he kill him. 

Can't have that! 

Clank!

"Bahaha! Is that all you got, Jon?"

Wylis heard the future King laughing as if he were playing, not battling. Of course, Wylis could just go there and kill the two knights with ease. But he didn't want to anymore. 

Rather, it was in his interest to have them perform better. So, he took a risky gamble.

Forgive me, Robert. You can have the damn crown, but the glory is mine.

"Ah!" 

All of a sudden, Robert tripped backwards. 

"Fuck!"

Stab!

Slash!

Jon thrust his sword into Robert's right shoulder, piercing a clear wound. Myles struck low and cut into Robert's left thigh, marking a deep, bloody gash. 

Thud!

“Dammit!” Robert groaned.

The future king fell in pain and blood, helpless, his warhammer released from his grasp.

"Kill him!" Jon howled. 

But by then, Wylis was behind them. 

"I don't think so." Wylis declared, looming a shadow on them from behind, and swung Heartsbane at Myles first, cleaving his head off. And before the blood could even spray, he shoulder slammed Jon into the nearest wall and—

BAM!

He stabbed Heartsbane square into Jon Connington's heart with so much force that he pinned him to the wall, his feet slightly lifted off the ground. 

"Robert!" 

Wylis poured concern into his voice and rushed to the fallen Robert. 

"Are you alright? Fuck, you careless bastard!"

After ensuring that the wounds were deep but not deadly, Wylis lifted Robert in his arms, a bit of a struggle, and carried the large man away towards the sept. He felt shitty, sure, but it was necessary to have control over the future battles. 

Ting!

[Tyrant's Title Acquired - Tyrant's Games
Description - Stabbing your allies in the back is often considered cowardly. But for a Tyrant, there are no allies, only tools and fools. And often, fools make the best tools.
Effect - Your lies will now be 10% more believable.]

"..."

It was a fine reward. 

But not as rewarding as others before. 

Ting!

[Side Quest Completed - Fishy Friend
Description - Win Hoster Tully's admiration.
Reward - Friendly status with House Tully, and easy access into the Riverlands for Tyrant's future endeavors.]

Ting!

[Side Quest Completed - Savior of the Stoney Sept
Description - Defeat Jon Connington and save Stoney Sept
Reward - All the women of Stoney Sept are now dementedly attracted to the Tyrant.
Current Loyalty - 100%]

Ugh… Whose Loyalty? All the women? What?