The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 5 - Gains, Gold & Glory: The Fame

The marshal would have cursed and ignored normally. But nobody wanted to fuck around with a seven-foot-tall giant. So, the marshal did as as

The marshal would have cursed and ignored normally. But nobody wanted to fuck around with a seven-foot-tall giant. So, the marshal did as asked and looked at the center of the wooden target board. 

Then, the marshal looked back and forth between Wylis and the board. After that, he called a few more marshals, who then started walking around behind the wooden board, staring at the ground. 

"Here!"

"Found it!"

"I found one!"

At last, in an excited voice, the marshal gave his final verdict. "All hit the bullseye! The three arrows passed through the target."

Wylis nodded and stepped away to let other men take their chance. He didn't just gain the attention of the watchers but also demoralized his competition. 

Out of forty archers, only twenty-six went to the next round. 

"Wylis of Winterfell!"

Wylis went for it again and struck the target at a sixty-meter distance. Once again, all struck the bullseye. But this time only one arrow passed through. 

It was a slow event, so as the sun peaked high, the fourth round came. This time the target was set at a staggering range of a hundred meters. Only five men were left now as the six before him had failed to hit the target. 

"Wylis of Winterfell!"

Wylis stood in the position, knowing this might be the final round. Sure, he could hit targets even farther than that. But it appeared the others couldn't. 

Shwooo!

The arrow whistled, cutting through the wind, and hit the bullseye. 

Shwooo!

The second arrow also struck and hit the bullseye. 

And the third…

Woosh!

Crunch!

The third arrow not only struck the bullseye, but embedded itself into an already logged arrow he'd shot before. 

All rounds, all perfect scores. That was the goal from the beginning. To win fame and glory. 

By now, the great stand had a large crowd gathered to watch the final round. As soon as he was done, his admirers roared in loud cheers. 

Wylis bowed towards the King once, eyed Elia and Ashara, and then went to stand at the back. 

Four men came after him, and only one of them was able to hit the bullseye once. While they were all brilliant archers and never missed, they never came close to three consecutive bullseyes. 

With an undeniable score, Wylis won the archery competition as well. 

Ten thousand gold dragons more. 

He already felt his pockets getting heavy. 

####

That night, Ashara came to his room again. He expected something, but other than flirting with him, she didn't do more. She always hinted at things, like how amazing Elia was. How rich the Martells are. How he needs to think about his future. How he needs a powerful backer. 

Honestly, he couldn't stop looking at her face as she stood in front of him. She didn't wear a cloak anymore so her figure-hugging gown, tight around the waist, made his thoughts colorful. Sleeveless, wide neck, showed a lot of skin, and her dark hair with shining violet eyes seemingly bewitched him. 

But he was no weak-balled boy. Other than flirting back with her, and complimenting her, he tried nothing. There wasn't even a chair to offer her, and asking her to join him on the bed was dishonorable. So, she just stood there as they spoke. 

Once again, he slept longing for his she-wolf. 

When the morning came, Wylis felt highly dissatisfied and hot. So, he chose to only wear a sleeveless tunic above, sort of like his past life's karate gi, but only thinner and tied with a wide piece of cloth around his waist. Dark grey, it matched with his similar trousers and boots. 

But doing that had an unintended effect that Wylis welcomed. With his immensely muscled arms naked to the eye, he received a lot more attention from the opposite gender. With the wide V-shaped neck, the firm, strong shape of his chest was also visible. 

Should've done this from the start. 

Since it was an axe-throwing competition, he didn't need any specialized tools. Also, there were a total of sixty participants since it wasn't a high-skilled event. Wetting his brown hair a little, he made sure he looked his best above the neck as well. 

Right when he walked into the event ground, he heard a lot of whistles from the stands. But he felt disgusted by them. 

Why are men whistling at me? 

There were common faces from the first day. Lyanna, the Mad King, Elia, Rhaegar, Ashara, and of course, Cersei. Brandon and Robert weren't there, declaring that he was going to win anyway so they'd rather spend time drinking fine wine instead. But surprisingly, Eddard was present. 

"Wylis of Winterfe—Ah, you're already here."

Even the marshals were used to his presence by now. 

BAM!

When Wylis threw the ax in the first round, he chopped the target block of wood in half and almost beheaded the poor marshal standing far away behind the target. The man was out of range, but not with Wylis. His technique was impeccable, as if he'd only trained to do that since birth. 

In the second round, he again struck in the middle. But Wylis treated each throw like a showcase for himself. He flexed his arm muscles, listening to some women make strange sounds, and men whistle or praise him for being a real man. The lords from the North were the happiest. 

BAM!

BAM!

Slowly, five rounds went by, and only one opponent was left. Wylis went against another strongman from the North. Not as tall as him, but surely pretty strong. 

Woosh!

The other Northman went first.

"Missed!"

That was it, Wylis threw the ax. 

BAM!

"Wylis of Winterfell, once again victorious! Third tourney event in a row!"

As the crier shouted the result, Wylis bowed towards the King, flexed his muscles for the ladies, ignored the whistling men, and returned to the Stark's tent. 

The night was a repeat. Ashara came, flirted, and hinted, but this time she stood a little closer. Her attire grew more revealing, wider neck, and tighter around her hips. Her flirtations now hinted less at the prospect of a fun night out and more about how big he probably was, and how much women would appreciate him. 

How so many noble ladies were willing to pay him to experience him in their bedchamber as most giant men were usually ugly and dumb. He was a rare beast with a perfect body and face. That he seemingly woke some sort of a dark desire in women.

Sadly, all Ashara did was leave him hard. 

That night, he went to sleep while wondering if he should accept Robert's offer and become a landed knight. Robert was already the Lord of Stormlands, so he had the right and might to give him everything. And once Robert becomes the King, moving up to being a Lord was much easier. 

Bam!

Bam!

Wylis took out his frustration by earthbending a stone and smashing it into the ceiling again and again like a ball. He'd trained using it ever since he first found out about it. He considered himself highly efficient now as far as it came to controlling small, palm-sized rocks. He could throw them like projectiles, hard enough to bash skulls. And he didn't need to be fully attached to the ground to feel the earth. It was like electricity, as long as he touched a conductor that was grounded, he could do it.

But moving larger structures was still hard, requiring him to dance like a fool with feet on the ground. Though he was improving fast—He had to.

"Wait!" 

He jumped off his bed suddenly. 

"Why don't I make a tunnel to Lyanna's room? Yes!"

Excited, he quickly kicked the floor and then animated his hand to move the block of stone. 

Creak!

Grrr…!

"Fuck!”

Suddenly, the walls around him started to shake. He stopped right away. 

I probably could've made a tunnel if it were Winterfell. 

Calming, he went back to bed. Harrenhal was far too fragile. 

####

The next day, it was horse racing. Wylis wasn't as confident about winning this one, but he wanted to. Winning all the events would give him fame that'd last generations. Sure, he didn't take part in the tourney of singers, but nobody took that seriously. 

Earthbending will help me this time. 

Wylis rode his massive, black colored stallion towards the starting line. His horse was the largest there, understandably so. Also, since Wylis was a stableboy, he'd taken care of his four-hoofed friend well. Polished, shining, hooves clean, saddle soft and beautiful. 

"Easy, Caliburn." Wylis patted his stallion's neck. He'd named it after the legendary King Arthur's sword. "Just run as fast as you can. Leave the rest to me."

It was a race of twenty horses, and it was long, testing both speed and endurance. 

While Wylis saw his opponents steer their horses, he silently used earthbending to tamper with the horseshoes. Pushing small stones in uncomfortable spots so their horses wouldn't run at full speed. 

In that event, Wylis' size was to his disadvantage. Even Caliburn wasn't built for speed; But he wanted to try anyway. 

Soon, all the horses stood ready at the starting line. A marshal used two blocks of hardwood and clapped them together, creating a loud, clapping sound, marking the beginning of the race. 

The dust flew in the air and the horses vanished at speed. At the starting line, there was no crowd since the finish line was inside the tourney grounds where the watchers waited for the winner to appear. 

Woosh!

"Ha! Keep it up, boy!" 

Wylis slowly tampered with every opponent who was in front of him. If one horseshoe came off, the slight disbalance would hamper the speed. That was the goal. But he couldn't do that to all of them. So, he created small cavities on the ground itself. 

But it was still a race of speed and he had to catch up with those ahead to stop them. That still took all the skill Wylis possessed from the purchase. Thankfully, Caliburn was a good boy and maintained the speed. 

From the sixth position, Wylis neared the third. Then after a lot of trouble, he reached second. Sadly, reaching 1st felt impossible as the distance between him and the first was too great. 

Wait! I can make the road flatter for Caliburn to run better!

So, he did just that. It took a lot of precision and focus, so he focused on using earthbending, and the horse ran by itself. Instead of flattening the entire road, he only flattened where the hooves fell. 

The speed slowly increased and the man at the first spot came into view. It was a Kingsguard of all men. 

You're fast. Wylis admired the man. 

But that was it. He once again messed with the road and made the Kingsguard fall behind him. But he maintained that distance, keeping the race close and exciting. 

"Ha! Just a little!" 

At last, the finish line came into view. Wylis gave his all to push his horse. The men in second and third position tried to get ahead of him but always fell behind by mere feet. 

And finally…

WOOSH!

Wylis crossed the finish line with a close but clear victory. Unlike the other events, he didn't feel as excited this time. Right then and there he swore to never use earthbending in competitions again. It took away the joy. 

"Once again! Wylis of Winterfell has won!"

Forty-thousand gold dragons? I'm rich!

Considering that a smallfolk family of four needed only two to three gold dragons a year to live in modest comfort, Wylis was indeed, truly rich. Likely the richest man in his entire bloodline. It was exciting, but for Wylis, a multi-billionaire in his past life, he didn't consider a mere forty thousand enough. If it were four million? He would. 

And in truth, that was the goal. The money he won in the tourney was going to be his seed money for his future endeavors. Just being a lord with large land wasn't enough. He needed industries to build wealth. And considering he planned on having countless trueborn and bastards, he needed a shitload of money to sustain that.

That night, Wylis didn't go to his room. He had enough of Ashara's teasing and chose to just drink with Robert, Brandon, and a few other big-bellied northern lords. He rarely drank, but that night he wanted to. 

They mocked each other, arm-wrestled, japed, sang, and drank until they had to use the nearby buckets to piss. There were no whores, just lads.

Lyanna was there too, initially, seated beside him. She whispered how she was bored and wished they could have some heated exchange. But she feared getting caught more than him. Besides, she was also busy. Only Wylis knew that she planned on taking part in the joust secretly. No, she hadn't told him. 

Meanwhile, he'd received Ashara's gaze from the King's table. He ignored it after some time and soon, all the women left the feast hall. 

"Wylis, I can't imagine how big your lads are going to be. I say, find a tall woman and put a babe in her. Mormonts got plenty of tall women." A man from House Manderly boomed. 

"Aye, I wouldn't refuse, Wylis," said Jeor Mormont. "My son could use a fine warrior like you at his side to rule Bear Island."

That instantly soured the mood of some men, including Brandon. 

"You're still thinking of joining the Night's Watch?"

"Aye…"

Listening to them, Wylis drifted into his drunken deep thoughts. The Night's Watch, the White Walkers. He honestly didn't give a fuck about them. By then he'd probably be in his forties. He just wanted to live rich, happy, proud, like a noble lord with plenty of women at his side. 

Thud!

Wylis never realized when he fell forward, face first on the table, drunk asleep. 

####

The fifth day was reserved for the tourney of singers. Even Rhaegar didn't take part in it despite being a good singer. The event was considered too beneath a noble's stature. So, other than some women and flamboyant men, not many went to watch the event. 

Wylis spent most of his day preparing for the upcoming five days of jousting. Over forty knights were taking part in it, so it was going to be intense. Thankfully, by now, Wylis had earned plenty of goodwill from the northern lords. 

Lord Manderly sent him a fine helmet to wear. It was large, great for his size. Brandon had already given him an old suit of armor to wear which almost fit him if smartly tied around his body. 

He did a practice run by wearing it fully to ensure it would hold up for five days. He wanted to win jousting. No, he needed to win it to save Lyanna and earn that big reward of forty thousand. 

As the tourney of singers ended, a common feast was held, marking the beginning of the so-called main event that would bring in the most number of spectators. Jousting was considered a noble sport, a knightly sport. So, almost all participants were knights, leaving Wylis. But at that point, nobody complained. 

At the feast, Wylis ate light and healthy, didn't dance, and didn't drink. Most other knights did the same, even Prince Rhaegar retired early to his bedchamber. Wylis hated how the man would often ogle at Lyanna as if undressing her with his eyes. 

Not after tomorrow. 

He bid Lyanna a good night and retired to his distant bedchamber. Taking off his tunic, he slid onto the bed bare-chested, relaxing in the cold sensation of the sheets. 

Letting the candles burn their course, he shifted sideways and looked at one corner of the room where a bundle of rolled papers rested. They were invitations and offers from countless nobles. Some were genuinely enticing, and others were ridiculous. A widow noble lady even offered him lordship if he agreed to make strong children with her who'd inherit the lordship after him. He’d have agreed if she weren’t already sixty.

But among the most enticing ones was an offer from the Lannisters. An offer to make him a landed knight like the Cleganes. 

Until now, he'd remained loyal to the Starks. In return, he'd received nothing from Lord Stark. Lyanna was his friend and did what she could. But it wasn't a lot. The only reason he was willing to refuse all the amazing offers was because he knew the future. 

But at the same time. He wondered if he was overestimating the wheel of change that had likely moved as soon as he woke, not as half-witted Wylis, but a superior one. 

I hope I'm not walking down the wrong road. 

Knock! Knock!

"Ser Wylis?"

"..."

Her again.

There was only one woman who called him 'Ser'. And he really didn't want to be teased that night. He tried to ignore the knocks. 

Knock! Knock!

"Wylis? Are you angry at me?"

He tried to ignore it. 

"Forgive me, I haven't been honest with you. Please give me a chance to explain myself."

Yeah, I could use that.

At last, he got off the bed and opened the door without bothering to put on his tunic. Bare-chested, he watched her turn red in embarrassment. But Ashara was daring and walked into the room anyway. 

Wylis closed the door and looked at her. 

Wait, she's wearing a nightgown. 

Instead of a noble attire, she was wearing a simple, light grey sleeping gown, big, airy, sleeveless with a round, wide neck. It fell down neatly from her shoulders, subtly rising on her mounds, stretching at the sides of her hips, and covering her legs all the way to the ankles. 

Her hair was combed, loose around her shoulders and back. Her eyes looked big and dreamy, solely focused on him, his chest, his abs, his muscles, as if drinking the view. 

"Take your time. Looking costs nothing." Wylis jested and sat down on the edge of his bed as usual.  

"Ah… Forgive me." Ashara looked away, red in shame. She gulped an audible breath and looked at his face. But then again, her eyes traveled down at his chest, so broad, so firm and defined, like a god. She'd seen men bare-chested before, her own brother even, but none came close to being that muscular. "You… have an amazing body."

"Really? I'd probably say the same about you if given a chance." He pushed the limit. If she was there, dressed like that, at night, the intentions were anything but humble and holy. 

Ashara finally showed some hesitation. Yet, she overcame that and stepped closer to him, near his knees. She looked down at his appealing frame. She'd seen it in his eyes what most men held towards her. A desire, of lust. But she knew she probably had the same eyes at that moment. 

"Her Grace, Lady Elia wished to know you more, so I asked you for a dance—for her, of course. But truth be told, I was a bit intimidated by you. I thought you'd be all gruff and growls. Turns out, you're not just some brute or someone's hound. You're Wylis—a man with his own dreams, thoughts, and desires."

"I will take that as a compliment," Wylis said and courageously raised his right arm. He softly gripped her tender left wrist and pulled her closer between his legs. He kept pulling until she had no room left and had to raise her legs, eventually straddling his lap as he guided her. Her long nightgown wrinkled above her pale knees as they parted around his mighty waist. 

So close, her chest pressed against his bare chest, faces mere inches apart, his big arms wrapped around her waist. Both of them froze in the moment, for a while. He admired her most desirable face, losing himself in those eyes. She did the same, finding his eyes intelligent and… strange. 

Feeling his massive frame cradling her on his lap, his sheer size. It electrified her heart and mind, waking up a desire she didn't know existed. Something dark, something unbecoming of a noble lady. A desire to be tightly held by his enormous frame, and so many other unspeakable things. 

"I…" Ashara felt his cock harden underneath her weight. She felt it right there, against her most vulnerable core. "At first, our conversations were mere duty—Her Grace's bidding, nothing more. Yet, somewhere between your clever jests and my laughter, I found myself anticipating our talks for my own delight. When you ignored me for the last two days and nights—I felt the absence keenly. I realized I looked forward to our evening exchanges more than I admitted."

"Hmm…" Wylis responded in a low grumble and let his hands take full liberty. 

Wylis’ hands moved with sudden purpose, rough but reverent, gripping the hem of her nightgown and yanking it upward. The fabric slid over her thighs, baring pale, flawless skin inch by inch. It caught momentarily on the curve of her ass, clinging to the plush swell, before he pulled harder, freeing it, exposing more of her body with each tug. 

His breath deepened as he yanked it from her completely, dragging it over her head in one smooth, hungry motion. The gown fluttered to the floor behind her, forgotten.

She was completely nude beneath. Utterly bare, not even a shred of modesty hidden beneath the light garment. As if she'd come there knowing exactly how this night would end. Her dark hair spilled like silk against the pale porcelain skin, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She was a vision of raw, untouched beauty.

"You… have an amazing body." He repeated her compliment from before. 

She was tall, even seated on his lap, she had the proud posture of a noblewoman, but her body held curves made to tempt. Taller than Lyanna, but softer, shapelier in ways that drew the eye and stirred the loins. Her skin was pale and smooth, broken only by the occasional, exquisite mole; a small, dark dot near her collarbone, another on the outer curve of her left hip. Marks no other man had touched. Her ass was round and soft, perfectly shaped to be gripped and handled. The kind of ass that promised a satisfying give when squeezed, supple, and lush.

Her breasts were more than a handful for any man; but for Wylis’ broad, rough palms, they were just right. Pale globes topped with slightly wide areolas, their tips a delicate rose shade and already tightening with arousal. Unspoiled, unmarked by any lover. He’d never seen anything so perfectly made for his taking.

Wylis let out a guttural sound, and his hands moved to claim her, seizing her bare ass with both palms. His fingers sank into the flesh just as he imagined they would, and he tugged her down, hard, pulling her fully against him. Her soft skin met his, her heat pressing flush against the hardness straining in his breeches.

Ashara, flustered and aroused, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts firmly against his bare torso. The feel of her nipples grazing his skin, the heat of their bodies merging, skin to skin; sent a wave of feverish lust through them both. His size made her feel fragile, delicate as if he could break her in half if he chose to, and yet she held tighter, silently begging for more.

His hunger, buried for days behind forced restraint, now boiled over. 

Wylis’ thick fingers roamed her body with unchecked hunger, sliding over the cleft of her ass, teasing the tight, sensitive entrance with a firm stroke. She squirmed in surprise, gasping against his neck, but he didn’t stop. His fingers slipped further down, gliding into the heat between her thighs, parting her slick, virgin folds. 

She was already wet, her arousal coating his fingers in warm, sticky nectar. He could feel the faint brush of soft hair and beneath it, the pulse of her body inviting. She was hot, needy, and unguarded, and she had come there like this.

"We have the whole night to talk, Ashara," Wylis whispered into her ear while hugging her body so tightly against his chest that he felt her heartbeat. 

In a reckless burst of desire, Ashara pulled her head back and kissed him. It was clumsy, rushed, all soft lips and misaligned mouths; a mess of a kiss that betrayed her inexperience instantly. 

But Wylis didn’t mind. Instead, he took control. He tilted his head, slowed her down, and guided her lips with his own, easing her into it, and showing her how it was done.

He parted her pouty, succulent lips with his tongue, prying her open and claiming her mouth like it was his to own. She tasted like heat and inexperience. Wylis kissed her with greedy possession, savoring the scent and feel of her like he’d waited years to devour her. 

Ashara Dayne, the one desired by half the realm, the wet dream of countless knights and lords, was naked in his lap, letting him ravage the mouth no one had kissed before. And he took her like she was already his.

Even though she was tall for a lady, with a fuller frame, to him she was nothing, delicate and small in his hands. She had to tilt her head up to reach his lips, and he didn’t even need to lift his arms to let one hand slide under her ass. His fingers toyed with her slick pussy, already teasing her slit while his cock throbbed hard beneath her weight, thick and undeniable. 

She must have felt it, impossible not to, pressed right up against her damp core.

Ashara tried to kiss him back with the same hunger, mimicking his tongue, but she lost that battle almost instantly. She whimpered softly and melted into him, surrendering her mouth, her breath, her entire self. 

He devoured her with slow, grinding hunger, and something deep inside her gave way. That dark desire, the kind that made women fantasize about being ruined by a man like him, rose fast and hot. She wanted him. All of him.

Using both hands to grip her ass, Wylis began to move her body, rocking her pussy against the sheer length of his cock. He guided her hips with ease, rubbing her slick folds over the heavy ridge through his smallclothes, back and forth, again and again. 

The kiss dragged on, filthy and deep, wet and gasping, until they both forgot how long they'd been locked together like that.

"First time?" He broke the kiss at last and looked at her face, dreamy and pleased, eyes half open. 

Ashara just nodded. 

"Then we'll go sl—"

"No… I want to… feel it first."

Ashara slowly slid off his lap and knelt between his spread knees and started to untie his breeches. He shifted his weight, letting her pull it down easily.

From up above, Wylis looked down at her, a vision of lust and perfection. Her hair framed her flushed face, her breasts still rising and falling from breathlessness. She looked divine there, her slender body kneeling, her violet eyes filled with desire. So beautiful, and yet so filthy in that moment, face hovering near the very cock she’d been grinding on. His shaft, hard and thick, looked almost comically large next to her elegant features and wide doe-like, astonished eyes. It was bigger than her face, veined, swollen, waiting.

She reached out hesitantly and wrapped one hand around his cock. Her eyes went wide with shock as her hands barely covered the length and girth. She pulled the foreskin back unintentionally, revealing the cockhead; engorged, gleaming, flushed dark and soft-looking, fat and needy.

Wylis placed his hand over hers and guided the motion, wrapping her grip tighter and showing her the slow, proper stroke. 

She picked it up quickly, her palm gliding along the heavy length, fascinated by the way it throbbed in her touch. His cock pulsed, jumping in her grip, twitching with every glide of her hand.

"You can also use your mouth. Don’t try to take too much," he said.

She nodded with breathless eagerness, following his lead like it was a command from a superior. 

With zero hesitation, she opened her soft, plump lips and wrapped them around the swollen head. Her eyes widened again at the stretch, at the taste, and she tried to take more; far too much. 

“Gck….”

The thick cockhead pushed to the back of her throat and she gagged, choking slightly, her lips glossy and trembling around him.

"You do know that this isn't a normal size. I'm much, much bigger than most men," he said, a bit proud.

"I…uh… I guessed that much," Ashara murmured, breath shaky, eyes still wide in disbelief. 

Determined to please, she leaned in again and gave it another try; but her jaw already ached, and her glossy lips could barely manage the width. So instead, she dragged her tongue along the thick shaft, slowly, sloppily, licking it like it was a frozen treat. The sounds were obscene; wet, smacking, strings of spit trailing as she lapped at him like a woman gone feral.

For Wylis, it was overwhelming. Not just her beauty but also her identity aroused him to no end.

The hot slickness of her tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock sent fire racing up his spine. Her licks were untrained, raw, but utterly devoted; and that made them perfect. Each wet swipe of her tongue felt scorching hot. Someone so beautiful, so noble, down on her knees, turning his cock into a sloppy, dripping mess. His heart thundered, his balls tightened, and his control wavered dangerously.

Wylis let out a deep grunt and pressed a large hand to the back of her head, guiding her downward until her tongue reached his balls. 

She hesitated for only a second. The texture was wrinkled, foreign, not at all what she’d ever imagined herself tasting. Once, just the idea of putting her mouth there would’ve made her gag. But now? Now it made her pulse race. It was sinful and forbidden, and that made it thrilling. Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was just him. That towering man, thick and hot in her mouth, trembling and twitching from her suckles, made the unthinkable feel irresistible.

She sealed her lips around his balls with shocking hunger, taking them in greedily as she sucked, drawing sharp breaths through her nose, her cheeks hollowing with effort. Her spit-covered hands worked his cock like she was possessed, twisting and stroking, wringing it from root to tip like she was trying to drain every last drop. Her motions turned frantic, messy, deliciously obscene.

And Wylis felt he was getting closer to the edge.

"I… I think that's enough," he growled and clutched her shoulders with both hands, fingers curling tight into her flesh. "Climb up."

She obeyed instantly, like it was a command she’d been waiting for. 

Wylis laid her down on his bed, guiding her flat onto her back, and settled between her legs. His massive form pushed her thighs apart easily, spreading her open beneath him. He stared down at her untouched cunt; tight and pink, barely parted, dark curls above glistening folds.

Ashara was a true virgin, he knew. But seeing his cock at her entrance, so large against her tight slit, made him question everything. Still, she was tall, taller than Lyanna, and he reasoned she could take it. She’d have to.

Plap!

For a bit of fun and encouragement, he slapped his veiny length onto her gleaming cunt. He loved the way she inhaled sharply, stifling a gasp with that blushing face of hers, and got even more excited.

He pressed the fat crown of his cock against her impossibly tight entrance, letting it rest right there. But just as he was about to breach her, he felt her soft palm against his chest; hesitant, trembling. 

Her eyes welled with tears.

Wylis paused, towering over her, taking in the beauty of her bare body. Those gorgeous breasts rising and falling with each breath, her flushed cheeks, her lips parted with both heat and fear. But her eyes… they no longer looked sure.

"It's alright, let's not cross that line then." He offered her solace by pulling his cock back, thick, wet and pulsing. "I won't do it unless you want me to."

Hearing that, Ashara smiled so brightly it stunned him. The fear melted from her expression like morning mist. She must have felt so small beneath him, his frame blanketing hers like a canopy. His hips pressed her down into the mattress, stretching her legs open wide, it must’ve felt like she’d been trapped by a boulder.

"I… I'm sorry, Wylis. I just… Let's do this then… Ah!"

Before she could finish, his mouth found her breasts. He latched on, sucking deeply, tongue teasing her tight, flushed nipples with broad strokes. They were perfect, soft handfuls tipped with pale rose, and he worshiped them with greedy attention. He had her, Ashara Dayne, on the bed, and it was a waste not to savor her more in other ways.

"We have another way of doing this, Ashara."

With ease, he flipped over her light body carefully, settling her prone on the bed, face down. Her legs straight, ass slightly lifted, she gasped as he climbed atop her, straddling the backs of her thighs. He then leaned forward and lowered his chest until it crushed against her entire back, his massive form blanketing hers entirely. Their faces were close, her cheek pressed into the sheets, breath shuddering, as he looked down.

He pushed his cock between her thighs, hot, slick, throbbing with hunger. Her untouched flesh hugged him, tight and marshmallowy soft. Even though he wasn’t inside her cunt, it didn’t matter. The sensation was enough to make his cock twitch wildly. Her leaking cunt was right there, petals flushed and glistening, brushing against the crown of his cock with every motion.

"I won't take your maidenhead, Ashara but… forgive me, I need this tonight."

As if she understood his meaning, she nodded. "I… trust you."

And with that, Wylis started to fuck her thighs; slow at first, pushing his thick shaft back and forth between them, skin slapping softly, heat building fast. He squeezed his straddling knees tighter, in turn making her straight legs squeeze around his cock more, her thighs becoming more snug. 

The more he moved, the more her pussy responded, slick and needy, her juices running freely. His cock’s long, girthy, length rubbed against her entrance with each thrust, smearing her essence along his length. Her pussy was scorching now, practically leaking, lips parted just enough that with a shift of his hips, he could’ve slipped inside. 

But he didn’t.

“Ummmphhh…. Ohhh… Umgh….” She moaned into the bedding, gritting her pearly whites and biting the sheets. This was all new to her, her first-ever experience with a man in bed. But it was oh so arousing and exciting.

The bed creaked beneath them, the worn wood straining with every grind of his massive hips. The bedding shifted, twisted, crumpling beneath their bodies. Wylis was all over her; seven feet of heavy, sweat-slicked muscle pressing her down into the mattress like she was naught. And Ashara moaned, long and low, as she felt his thick rod plowing between her thighs, her pussy lips parting wetly over each bump of his cock.

“Ummmh… gods…” she whimpered, her voice muffled by the bedding. Her clit throbbed with each pass, perking out and needy. Her thighs trembled. The friction was maddening.

Wylis let out a grunt. His voice rasped, thick with greed. “Fuck… your skin… so soft, so wet and silky. I’m… so close.”

He kissed the back of her neck, his hot lips dragging down her sweaty shoulder. Her skin tasted of salt and heat, her hair a wild mess tangled between his face and her shoulder. Her ass was divine; plush, bouncy, the perfect cushion that met his thrusts with just the right amount of resistance. It clapped softly with each grind, and Wylis found himself speeding up, unable to stop.

“Ahhmmmhhh…” Ashara moaned, loud and shattered, the sound muffled but soaked in desperation. She knew what it was, but it felt better, hotter than other times. This was her first climax with a man.

Her whole body seized, thighs clenching around his cock as the pleasure ripped through her. Her entire body, her ass spasmed, her delicate, feminine form quivered. Her pussy twitched violently, gushing a hot, unholy flood of nectar that painted his shaft and drenched her thighs. 

She came. She actually came. Just from his cock rubbing her lower lips raw, teasing her virgin entrance, battering her clit over and over. Her cunt pulsed on his staff like it was begging to be filled, thoroughly soaked, and wild with need.

Wylis groaned sharply into her ear, hearing her release and feeling the warm gush coat his cock. It pushed him over the edge. He snarled through clenched teeth and slammed his hips one last time with all his weight, plunging Ashara deeper into the bedding, holding himself there as he spilled.

“Gaaaah~”

Ropes of thick, hot seed pulsing out of him, over and over, flooding the space between her thighs in a filthy, gooey torrent. The sound it made was vile; wet squelches echoed off the stone walls, her thighs painted in white, his cock drenched in her juices and his own. The mess was unreal, sticky, scentful, and sinful, their bodies glued together by the sheer flood of fluids. 

He didn’t stop right away. He kept grinding, slow and heavy, spreading their combined filth across her thighs, across her pussy lips, making her shudder again from overstimulation. Every motion made another slick noise, another lewd, soaked squelch. And the glide… the glide, was delicious. The wet slide of his still-hard cock through the mess felt like velvet on fire.

Eventually, spent, Wylis collapsed down, covering her lovely body with his own. His chest stuck to her sweaty back, their bodies sealed with the heat and humidity of what they'd just done. He kissed her neck again, softly this time. 

She turned her head, lips parting, and he caught them, kissing her from the side, tender but still laced with hunger.

Her back rose and fell beneath him. Her face was flushed, her hair tangled, her expression dazed but utterly satisfied.

“Thank you… Wylis,” Ashara murmured, huffing hot breath against his cheek. “I thought you’d…”

"I may look like a brute, but I'm not."

Wylis finally moved back, setting Ashara free. The view was worth a million coins, Ashara sprawled face down on the bed, a filthy hot mess between her thighs, her round, plump ass high. 

He grabbed an old piece of clothing and cleaned himself before giving it to her. 

"No, you're far too good-looking to be a brute," she replied, her shame finally gone, but blush remained. She wiped her thighs and legs clean. Then she got out of bed and put on her nightgown again. 

Wylis wore his breeches as well, his mind clear now. But just as Ashara tried to leave the room, he stopped her with a call. 

"What were you about to say back then? Let's do this then? What was that?"

Her eyes widened before her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I was going to say that… If you defeat Rhaegar in jousting. I will give you… everything."

"..."

He acted well to seem unaffected. 

But his cock twitched. 

Fuck! Wait, is she using her virginity as a wager or does she really want me?

It was then, with post-nut clarity, that the realization dawned. 

Did I fall into a noblewoman's scheme? Was any of it real?

He hoped it was. 

Thud!

Ashara left without his response. And in truth, he had none to give. 

####

"Your Grace." Ashara entered Elia Martel's bedchamber in the morning, bringing with her the servants who'd wash and dress the children for the day's events. Prince Rhaegar didn’t share a bed with his wife anymore, so Ashara had complete access to the room. 

Weakly, Elia looked at her dear friend from the bed. "So? Any word?"

"I have given him all the hints and motivations necessary, Your Grace," Ashara replied, holding herself from blushing at the memory of the last night. "I think he'll do it."

Elia silently gazed at her friend. Judging, wondering, before speaking again. "Ashara, I hope you don't feel obliged to go beyond reason to accommodate my curiosity. He's not worth it. He's a lowborn destined to lead, at best, an average life. A tourney and a real battle are vastly different. The lords see him as a novelty, not a warrior."

"I know that, Your Grace. Rest assured," Ashara replied, keeping her thoughts to herself. "I am aware of the differences in status."

"I pray his worth matches our hopes. Rhaegar soars high, but even dragons must remember the ground."

####

The crowd of spectators was unmatched when it came to jousting. There was barely any space left to sit and watch. But by the grace of House Stark, Wylis had the lowest seats at the stands, right beside the edge beyond which was the jousting field. To his right sat Lyanna and Benjen. 

The weather was sunny and clear, and it was the first day of jousting. With twenty men set to perform on the first day and twenty on the second, Wylis was set to take part the next day. That left him with the chance to watch Rhaegar Targaryen and Brandon Stark take part on the first day. 

"Who do you support?" Wylis asked Lyanna. 

The she-wolf grinned and elbowed him. "Certain someone—big and long."

He chuckled and relaxed in the stands. He really missed being casual and having Lyanna's carefree company. "Makes sense. Robert's going to be your husband, after all."

Lyanna frowned instantly and folded her arms, her petite breasts forming a visible cleavage through her wide neckline. She truly felt like a doomed woman. With the tourney approaching its end, she also felt her unwanted marriage creeping closer. 

"Don't mention that man again to me, Wylis. I'd rather not vomit first thing in the morning."

"Oh?" He leaned closer and whispered. "Careful, folks might spread some rumors if you do that."

Right then, the crier shouted the name of the first exchange. 

"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and…"

Wylis didn't even listen to the other name. His stern, furious eyes glared at the so-called silver prince. The man dressed in the finest night black plate armor. Riding atop a beautiful white horse, looking all dreamy and confident. 

Why? Why is he coming here? 

The crowd hadn't even stopped shouting when the Prince rode his horse towards the stands. He hadn't worn his helmet yet, so his handsome face was visible. It was something plenty of women in the realm would die for. 

Wylis saw it from close and sneered inside. Rhaegar was everything he despised. A dumb bastard born in money—indecisive, disloyal, and once again, a fool. To Wylis, Rhaegar was no different from the Mad King. Only Rhaegar was chasing a different sort of mad dream.

Why here? I don't remember this happening. 

"My Lady."

Wylis' fist clenched hard, the leather gloves he wore squeaked with his strength. His blue eyes coldly locked onto the Prince. He wanted to kill him right then and there. A small accident during jousting, a small misstep of the horse from earthbending. He had plenty of options. 

"Your Grace," Lyanna responded to the prince. 

Rhaegar bowed his head, his violet eyes locked only on Lyanna as if Wylis' giant frame didn't even exist. As if Benjen, on Lyanna's other side, wasn't there. 

"My Lady, from the moment I beheld you, a quiet fire stirred within me. Your beauty, ethereal, has awakened melodies I thought long forgotten. I find myself compelled to compose songs in your honor, hoping that one day, I might have the privilege to sing them for you." Rhaegar shamelessly, openly, publicly, with his wife present, declared his desire for another woman in indirect words. "For this joust, may I receive my Lady's favor, as a token of inspiration?"

Why is he professing his desire now? 

Wylis racked his brain for answers. He saw Elia's eyes wide and looking disappointed. He saw King Aerys frowning. Almost all the noble ladies were gasping and looking shocked. This was the very scandal Wylis wanted to avoid. But it happened earlier than expected. 

No! Did Rhaegar anticipate losing to me?

"My favor?" Lyanna sat surprised, taken aback. She hadn't shown even an ounce of interest in the prince. But then she noticed Wylis' clenched fist, his stiff body, and his serious, cold face. She smirked and nodded. "I would be immensely honored if you would carry my favor, Your Grace."

"No, the honor is mine, my Lady." Rhaegar received a piece of cloth from Lyanna and tied it around his arm. It was icy blue, the same color as her noble robes. "I'm sure this shall bring me the blessing to overcome my rivals."

Just before Rhaegar left, his eyes met with Wylis'.

Wylis felt it. A sense of animosity between them. The prince didn't like him, it appeared. 

No mercy—I'll break your fucking teeth when I face you. 

When Rhaegar left, he looked at Lyanna, who was already staring at him. "Him? Seriously? A married man with children at that? You just made Lady Elia your enemy."

"What could I have done? He's the Prince." She shrugged, considering it nothing major. "Besides, a Lady's favor isn't always about romance, but also support and admiration."

"You could've given it to me." 

She giggled in response. "What a tragedy it would be to let that sour face of yours go unseen. I couldn't allow it."

Hah… This girl. She'll do the opposite of whatever I advise. Better to deal with it directly. 

He looked back at the jousting field, imagining himself in Robert's place, basing the silver fucker's chest. 

To Wylis' luck, he wasn't the only one with a sour face there. No, it wasn't Elia, Ashara, or Aerys. 

####

It should have been me! How dare he ignore my presence! My father has the gold! My father has the mines! I am the most beautiful woman in the entire realm! I—I…

Cersei Lannister fumed as she watched Rhaegar Targaryen seek Lyanna Stark's favor. Lyanna Stark, a woman she considered completely beneath herself. Not as beautiful as her. Not as feminine as her. Not even as wealthy as her. Even the clothes she wore, she believed, cost a hundred times more than the Stark girl. 

Why her? Why? I-I am… that prophecy. 

She seethed as she watched Rhaegar win the joust and leave the grounds. She just sat there that entire day, feeling betrayed. Her green eyes grew cold and enraged. 

I won't… allow this. 

Just as the day's events came to an end, she looked away and noticed the seven-foot-tall man in the stands, a man she considered worthy of being a noble knight for his actions, character, and beauty. 

She was there during the melee, during the archery, and the axe-throwing. She'd seen his body, as if carved by the Warrior himself. She truly believed that her brother, Jaime, was amongst the finest fighters in the realm. But when seeing that man, she couldn't help doubting her brother's chances. Perhaps it was better he got sent to King's Landing. 

That evening, she didn't visit the feast. She remained in her lavish chamber, alone, pondering what to do. And lost in thoughts she never realized when she fell asleep. 

But when she woke up, she had a plan and a goal set. She cleaned herself and donned the finest attire she had brought along. A beautiful, red gown with a lot of gold embroidery. Off the shoulder, it revealed plenty of her neck, her unblemished skin, and some of her cleavage. She was young, but she was proud of her body which grew finer by the day. Then she wore some gold jewelry, painted on some eyeliner, had her hair done beautifully, curly and long, and lips painted red.

"Take me to the Stark camp outside the castle."

She ordered her guards. 

####

The second day of jousting was upon him. Wylis didn't sleep well the previous night. The thought of Rhaegar taking away Lyanna haunted him. He wanted to do something about it, but his hands were tied. 

And the damn joust was moving too slowly. He needed to win against the random Knights before reaching Rhaegar. But he was determined. 

Still, he couldn't stop his blood from boiling. 

Shhhhh~

Shhhhh~

Covered in his jousting armor, Wylis waited for his turn as he sat on a wooden crate in the Stark camp. Using a whetstone, he sharpened his main, six feet long greatsword. It was a habit of his since the sword was indeed too long and took time to maintain. 

He was alone, left alone to his thoughts. He wanted to earn money and power without becoming a target of major Lords. It was a tough road. 

"You're not supposed to use those." 

Hearing that young, feminine voice, Wylis looked towards the tent's entry. He almost cursed out loud at the randomness of it. 

Why's she here? 

"My Lady." Wylis stood up with courtesy and greeted her. "This isn't a lance, but the main sword I use in real battles."

Cersei walked into the modest tent, gazing around at the various tools and equipment. Her demeanor was proud, and she was arrogantly tall. Her status, wealth, and her confidence oozed in every little movement she made. 

And Wylis had to agree; she was even more beautiful from up close. He reckoned she was around five-feet-eight, one or two years younger than him. She was slender with a graceful figure. 

But often, the brightest of berries are poisonous. Wylis didn't hold any illusions. 

"Battles? I heard rumors that you've never seen a battle. That you're a mere stableboy," Cersei asked, half curious and half full of disdain. As if she hated just being there, that speaking to him was beneath her status. 

Wylis shrugged and stood straight, eclipsing Cersei even with her tall frame. "I did once cleave a rapist bandit in half, from head to toe. But Lord Stark never allowed me outside Winter Town after that."

Cersei sneered. "Certainly scared that you would outshine his precious heir. You're not the first victim of a father's obsession." 

She's probably cursing Tywin for trying to keep Jaime away from her. He saw right through her. 

"Wouldn't put it past them, my Lady. Things go sideways more often than not. That said, I might be summoned at any moment. What can I do for you?"

Cersei raised her chin and revealed a golden, silky piece of cloth. "I admire a man who knows how to win. Have this—my, Cersei Lannister's favor for this jousting tourney."

Ah! I see now. Rhaegar angered her as well. 

"I… am honored. But I fear the spectators will form rumors. Rhaegar could do it because he's a Prince. I'm nobody," Wylis replied, gently declining her offer. Though he was also instigating her. 

"I don't care!" Cersei raised her voice. "I want Rhaegar unhorsed and defeated—I mean, I wish to see you win."

Pfft… She's not even half as wise as she thinks she is. 

"Rhaegar?" Wylis frowned and seriously looked at the piece of cloth. "I…"

"Are you not confident?" Cersei looked up at him, frowning.

"No, it's not that. You said unhorse him, while I was planning to break his teeth in. Now I'm conflicted about which one to aim for."

Instantly, Cersei's eyes brightened. "Break his teeth!"

"Very well, my Lady. I'll accept your favor. But save it for the joust—makes for better theatre. I'll ride up, take it from your hand, and then proceed to unseat every pompous knight in my path. Your favor might just bring me a streak of luck."

Faintly, Cersei blushed. At the end of the day, she did consider Wylis handsome. "Let's do that." 

But right when she started to leave, Wylis stopped her. 

"But my Lady—may I seek another favor in return?"

Huffing, Cersei crossed her arms and turned to him, giving a show of her magnificent cleavage. "How much gold do you want?"

"No, it's not gold that I want." He eyed her with deeper intent, nothing sexual, however. "Just a favor, maybe. Someday, when you're Queen, I might need a hand. Nothing more."

"You believe that? That I'll become the Queen?"

"Considering your beauty and your age, I'd wager your chances of becoming Queen are as certain as the sun rising come morning." 

In short, it was bound to happen. 

Cersei smiled with a trace of a blush. "It seems your tongue is as sharp as your skills."

"I've heard that before, my Lady."

Cersei genuinely chuckled while nodding. "Very well, I'll owe you a favor. But since you're so confident about my future, what would you wager if you were wrong?"

After some quick thinking, Wylis pointed at the chest sitting behind him. "Forty thousand gold dragons—my entire tourney winnings. Might seem a pittance to you, but it's a fortune to me. And mark my words, you'll be Queen within the next three to five years."

"Such confidence? Very well, if you're right, I'll repay you twice over and grant you two favors. But know this: I never forget a debt, nor do I forgive a fool."

Wylis agreed to her terms. "If only time could move faster now."

"I feel the same."

Saying that, Cersei left the Stark camp. 

Wylis followed her out and watched her fleeting figure, her perfect hips swaying. Seeing her face, he couldn't help but sigh at the waste of potential. 

But he had no doubts or delusions about Cersei. She was as he understood—low cunning, hungry, and greedy for power. She was a monster who hyped herself to believe she had greatness within her, while none of it was true. 

But there was also another undeniable fact about her. She had one thing that helped her despite her low cunning. 

A monster she may be, but one blessed with striking beauty.

________________

[A/N: Since so many of you liked Ashara and Cersei options in the poll, I've decided to do both.]