The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 6 - Gains, Gold & Glory: The Spoils (Patreon)

"The next man to joust… The first time in his life but no stranger to victories—Wylis of Winterfell!” Wylis galloped his horse straight into

"The next man to joust… The first time in his life but no stranger to victories—Wylis of Winterfell!”

Wylis galloped his horse straight into the jousting field as the crier shouted his name. His armor was mismatched, his lance wasn’t that shiny, and while his helmet looked new, he was an odd sight to all. Yet, the cheers were louder than most, comparable to when the Prince participated the day before. 

He made the horse circle around the field, eyeing the audience. He found Lyanna seated in place, her face looking tired. The reason was known to him as the first joust of the day was between a mystery knight, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and a knight of House Haigh. He knew it was Lyanna, so her condition was understandable. 

Must have rushed over to watch me joust. 

He eyed the other people. The stands were full that day. Jousting was truly the most anticipated segment of the tourney. Even the King had worn better clothes that day as a lot of smallfolk were there. The Kingsguard had cleaner capes. 

There she is. He soon found Cersei seated in a different spot than most other days. This time she sat right at the edge of the jousting field and the stands. Her attire was the same as she wore in the morning, undoubtedly beautiful. 

"My Lady." He approached her, wide in the open view, daringly despite his lowly status. He extended his free arm toward the golden-haired girl. "Might I carry your favor in the joust? Luck’s a fickle thing, but I’d wager it leans toward the brightest star in the field—and that’s you."

But a moment passed and Cersei didn't move an inch. Inside his helmet, Wylis frowned, his grip on the reins grew tighter. 

This bitch! Don't—Don't you betray me now! You came to me!

####

Cersei was absent-minded for the most part. From the first joust of the day to the current one. She'd sat there without bothering to look at the tourney. Instead, her eyes were glaring at the empty seat of Prince Rhaegar, while the King and Elia Martell were present. 

A thousand things flowed through her mind. Countless schemes and countless victories that were merely fictional. She tried to masterfully control the matter. Tried, was the keyword, for she never failed to overestimate her wits. 

Where is he? Where is Rhaegar?

But then, during the latter half of the tourney, she saw something. Something that enraged her the most. She found Lyanna Stark arriving, who had been missing since morning, looking tired. Soon after, the Prince also arrived. 

D-Did they? Were they together? No! How could he—Why? That backwater whore!

Her beautiful, green eyes started to turn red. Her pale, unblemished face grew blushed in anger. Her breath hardened, and she noticed how Rhaegar continued to eye Lyanna Stark even when sitting distantly. 

Why? Why, why, why?!

She really wanted things to be different. She still hoped that Rhaegar would look at her. She ensured to sit there, looking the most beautiful, wearing the most regal dresses. She hoped to catch his eye. But it never happened, not once.

"My Lady?"

"Hm?" Furiously, she looked straight at the source of that masculine voice. She wanted to roar vile insults. But as she noticed the tall, armored man on an equally tall stallion, she cooled down. "Ah—Please, I will be honored if you carry my favor."

Realizing how absentminded she'd been, she rushed to find a piece of cloth. She glared at the Lannister soldiers guarding her, and the men quickly found the golden ribbon she had prepared. It was an actual silk ribbon with patterns weaved from real gold threads. 

"I will pray for your glorious victory."

####

Thank fucking God! She almost made me her greatest enemy. 

Heaving a calm breath, he took the golden ribbon from her delicate, small hand. But she didn't release it instantly and eyed him with a stern gaze. 

"Wylis—Don't you forget the promise."

Haha! She really hates him, doesn't she? Good for her, it's mutual. 

"Teeth shattered, blood will flow," he replied in a whisper and took the golden strop at last. He tied it around his armored right arm near the bicep. He also eyed Lyanna in the distance, annoyance marring her face.

With that, he trotted his horse to his side of the jousting field and waited for the competitor to arrive. It didn't take long before a knight in shining armor entered, proud, with fine steel. A real knight who could be called Ser. But the man didn't receive much praise. From the mark on his chest, it seemed he was from House Tarly. 

Soon, a low-ranking House Stark soldier came over and handed Wylis the jousting lance. He gripped it tight and prepared himself. There were two judges, one on each side, eyeing the two riders the entire time. Then there was a man near the middle, a little away from the middle tilt rail, holding flags to signal the start. 

Wylis was like a mountain compared to the Tarly Knight. It was so early in the jousting that nobody even bothered to bet. Victory was already named to Wylis. The only question was how badly the Tarly Knight would lose. 

Let's try to knock him over.  

With a goal in mind, Wylis hoped to perfect his craft for the best result. He really wanted to break Rhaegar's teeth. But he didn't want to break any rules for that. He needed to strike the shield, as hitting the Prince on the helmet would give him points, but also anger the royals. 

A little bit of Earthbending? But I can't manipulate much while not standing on the ground.

In the end, he treated the current joust as a practice run. There were many rules, but he only needed to know one. If a knight shatters two lances by striking his opponent, and the knight who had been struck knocks him off his horse, even though he didn’t splinter his lance, a tie shall be declared between him and the knight who splintered the two lances.

That meant that Wylis had to unhorse his opponent in the very first exchange as the other side may splinter their lance while he unhorsed them. 

Moments later, the tension grew. Wylis felt a little nervous this time. 

Woosh!

As soon as the flag was waved between them, Wylis galloped forward on his horse. High at first, he lowered his lance slowly and right in time. His years of strength training made the lance feel weightless. He held it with ease. 

BOOM!

As expected, the Tarly Knight splintered his lance on Wylis. But the lance didn't touch his shield, but rather his chestplate. Meanwhile, what Wylis did was an entirely different beast. 

"Aaaargh!"

Wylis' lance struck the 'boss' of the Tarly Knight's shield. At first, it was a normal strike, but then Wylis thrust his lance forward and that did the job. The Tarly Knight dislocated his shoulder as his entire upper body was spun on the horse, and a moment later, he lost balance, falling right off the horse onto his back, with a loud, metallic thud. 

"Aaaargh!"

The Tarly Knight continued to groan on the ground, rolling, trying to hold his shoulder with the other hand, but his armor came in the way. The judges rushed over to see the damage. When they shoved the visor up, they were surprised to see blood oozing from the Tarly Knight's mouth. 

Wylis handed his lance to the Stark man and got off his horse. He removed his helmet, showcasing his handsome face to the ladies for the optics. Then, he walked over to the fallen Tarly man. 

"Joust is over! You won!" 

One of the judges tried to shield the fallen knight, fear visible in the man's eyes. 

What? Ah—

"I'm not here to hurt him." Wylis declared and looked at the knight. Since his mouth was bleeding, it meant the knight had received internal injuries from his fall. It looked serious. "Let me carry him to the Maester's tent. Quick!"

Awkwardly, the judges stepped aside. Wylis scooped up the fallen knight like a princess and carried him off the field. He did half of it to save his skin in case the man died. And the other half to earn the prestige of chivalry, honor, and knightly actions. Men or women, all loved a good noble deed.

As he carried away the knight, the spectators roared in cheers for him even louder, surpassing any other yet.

How do I break teeth without doing this to Rhaegar?

####

After Wylis, it was Robert Baratheon who jousted. But the man was never known to joust, and he even came drunk. Without a doubt, he lost. But thankfully, he didn't lose by falling, but rather points. 

Brandon Stark also jousted and won rather easily that day. The man was truly amongst the best knights of the times. 

With that, the day came to an end. There was a larger feast than most other days, but only the knights who had already lost ate heavily and drank hard. The knights who were to joust the next day maintained a modest diet. All except Brandon. 

Seated with the Starks, Wylis was right beside Lyanna. Under the table, his hand rarely scraped against her soft thighs and teased her. She scoffed annoyedly each time, slapping his hand away. 

"You'll be going against either Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan tomorrow," Eddard informed, sitting on the other side of the table. He wasn't taking part in the joust. 

"Why? I mean, how do you know that?"

"I heard the judges. They say you're too dangerous to match against squires and soft-knights. The boy you struck down—Lord Tarly’s second son—he may not last the night."

"..."

Fuck! I didn't use much strength to hit him. He fell on his own. 

"None here will hold it against you. Lord Tarly’s another matter. Tourneys breed grudges like summer breeds flies." Eddard added.

“Why worry, Eddard?” Lyanna chimed in then, her right cheek twitching. “Wylis is lucky. Didn’t he receive a maiden’s favor today? Cersei Lannister, of all—A Lannister, really?”

So that’s what this is about? Jealous? Annoyed? Hah, she’s cuter this way. 

“At least she’s unmarried. Unlike a certain Prince.”

“You! I had no other choice. How do you refuse when a Prince approaches you in public?” She tried to reason, and it looked genuine. 

But Wylis scoffed this time. “Sure, plenty of time to think of excuses now.”

Lyanna scoffed and pinched Wylis’ thigh under the table to get back at him. “In any case, by the time Lord Tarly makes his move, Wylis will have his knight spurs. At that point, Lord Tarly will be against House Stark, not just a squire."

Eddard said nothing there. He wasn't a dreamer, nor an idealist. He liked to live in reality. He considered Lyanna biased since she and Wylis were good friends. But he saw it as it was. Wylis was going to make a lot of enemies in the tourney. 

"Hold your strength tomorrow. Win the joust, aye—but don’t leave them broken."

Wylis simply nodded. He didn't plan to kill anyone either. 

####

The next day, once again, a disguised Lyanna came and won at the beginning. Later, she returned to the stands in her lady attire. After that, Rhaegar also jousted and won with loud cheers. One after another, the most notable men took victory home. Brandon, Yohn Royce, and even Arthur Dayne won. Slowly, as Wylis saw his turn approach, he already knew he'd go against it. 

This time the threat was real. He was confident in his body, in his sword skills, in his archery, but jousting was different. So, as he sat in his tent, waiting for his turn, he summoned the magical screen of the Tyrant's Squire. He looked at the list of available abilities. 

[Blacksmith Mastery - 1 Year
Chemistry Mastery - 1 Year

Civil Engineering - 3 Years
Cooking Mastery - 10 Days
Gunsmithing - 10 Years
Political Mastery - 5 Years

Singing Mastery - 6 Months

Kissing Mastery - 1 Month

Sex Mastery - 6 Months

Jousting Mastery - 6 Months (Discounted to 1 Month due to pre-existing Horse Riding Mastery)

Woodwork Mastery - 1 Year

Farming Mastery - 1 Year

Beast Taming - 10 Years
…
…
…
Atomic Bomb Designs - 100 Years
M1E3 Abrams Tank Designs - 80 Years
…
…
…
Mind Reading - 107 Years]

"There IS one for jousting!" Wylis exclaimed, and the price wasn't high either. "But… It's still one month out of my life."

Is it worth it? he asked himself. 

Jousting wasn't a useful skill in war, after all. If he chose to buy it, he'd have to make sure he took part in every jousting tournament to win as much reward as he could. Only then the gold would outweigh the cost. 

Fuck it! I'll win forty thousand gold Dragons with it. 

[Remaining Lifespan - 73 Years 5 Months]

"Ugh~" 

He instantly felt a warm, throbbing pain in his head. But it was subtle, not hindering his consciousness at all. Unlike the last time, when he had to grit his teeth. It felt much easier this time. 

"Ah! I can… see it." He felt memories pour into his head. He noticed how his muscles twitched as if remembering the experience from the memories. His understanding of jousting started to become clear. All the right ways to hit the target and do what he intends. How to unhorse the opponent. Everything was now imprinted in his mind. 

Just then, a Stark man came over. "It's your turn, Wylis."

"Let's do it then."

He donned his helmet and mounted his mighty stallion, Caliburn. This time, he didn't wait for someone else to hand him the lance. He grabbed it from the beginning and rode into the tourney field. With Cersei's favor fluttering from his right arm, he took his position at his side of the tilt rail. His opponent had already arrived, donning a beautiful Kingsguard armor.

The crier started to shout then. "Now for the moment, we all have been waiting for. When an unstoppable wall meets the sharpest of blades—Wylis of Winterfell against Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguards—Let the joust begin!"

Wylis eyed the famed Knight. He knew that the man had an eye on Ashara as well. Despite already being in his early forties. 

Look at the horny Kingsguard. 

But he respected Barristan. There was no hint of malice he felt from the man. When Ashara danced with him, Barristan was amongst the few who smiled at the large man getting to dance.

Yet, that didn't change anything. With mastery of jousting imprinted in his body, he still aimed to unhorse the fine knight. 

Woosh!

The flag was waved. 

Wylis charged forward. With aim, he soon brought down his lance, and…

Skrrrr~

What the fuck? What?!

He missed, and Ser Barristan also missed. His body reacted on its own and dodged Ser Barristan's lance from hitting his shield. But he did strike the old knight's shield, albeit softly. 

Ah! How did I forget that? So what if I got jousting mastery? He must be pretty close to that level as well.

Soon, he got into position once again and charged at the mark. Caliburn's heavy hooves stomped hard on the ground. Underneath the helmet, Wylis sweated profusely, his ears deaf to the roars of the crowd. His eyes narrowed, focused, and stared at only one target. 

Almost… Timing… must… match!

Bam!

"YES!" Wylis cheered aloud as soon as he felt a good contact against Ser Barristan's shield. But not only that, his lance splintered, and the famed knight lost his seat, falling from horseback with grace. 

Clank!

Ser Barristan didn't even fall. He just landed on his feet, shaking his head. 

Once again, Wylis got off his horse and approached Ser Barristan. Knowing how long the man was going to remain in service, it was best to forge good relations with him. 

"There’s skill in you, lad. Not raw strength alone, but grace and precision." Ser Barristan clasped his gauntlet with Wylis'. "Have you ever considered the white cloak?"

Kingsguard? Fuck that! 

"My dream is to have a big family, Ser." Wylis respectfully declined. 

"Hah. There is honor in that, no doubt. A dream worth holding on to."

Laughing, the two men removed their helmets and walked off the field. It wasn’t every day you got to see knights and nobles act so friendly after losing a joust. Smallfolk liked that, and the King as well.

####

At the evening feast.

"What have you learned of him? I would know—every word, every breath. Speak!"

Ser Gerold Hightower leaned beside the King's large chair and responded. "Aye, Your Grace. The talk holds truth. He was born to servants sworn to House Stark. His great-grandmother, they call her Old Nan, has long served at Winterfell—helped birth Lord Rickard himself, and his children after him. Wylis was naught but a plump and gentle lad till his fourteenth nameday. Then came the change. Now he stands a giant among men, though none in his bloodline share that height. There are whispers, even among the Stark household, that he bears the blood of giants."

King Aerys stroked his long, filthy beard, getting annoyed whenever his foot-long nails clung at times. He eyed Wylis far in the distance at a table. "What do you make of him?"

"He unhorsed Ser Barristan, and yet the man holds him in regard. Wylis is skilled in swordplay and speech both—true, chivalrous, and strong." 

As Ser Gerold understood the King's wish, he added. "Barristan asked if he would wear white. The boy refused. Said he dreams more of sons and daughters than vows and white armor."

"Hah~" The Mad King chortled, sipping some wine as if amused by it all. "So he's not a blind fool who chases folktales. That's better—A man with kin is easier to leash... they squeal louder when the fire gets close."

Not seen by the King, Ser Gerold frowned at those words. 

"Ser Gerold, put the boy against the weaker knights. Let him bleed slowly, not spill too soon. I would see him face Rhaegar in the final tilt. Let us see if he is worthy of song… or fire, when facing the best jousting knight."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

Ser Gerold retreated. But he saw what the King's true intention was. That was no father fawning over his son's jousting prowess. No, the Mag King's tone told a different story. More than Rhaegar, he seemed interested in a lowborn stableboy. 

####

On the fourth day, Wylis was surprised. With only eight men left, he was pitted against the weakest one. There were the likes of Brandon, Arthur Dayne, and Rhaegar Targaryen. But he faced a nobody from House Cockshaw. Yes, that was the name of the house. 

Bam!

Easily, while chuckling at the name, Wylis unhorsed the man. It was so easy that he didn't even need to put any pressure on his lance. The Cockshaw man seemingly fell out of fear of getting struck by his lance. 

Nonetheless, he won the first exchange of the day. He had another one to go. But instead of returning to his tent, he stayed behind and watched disguised Lyanna arrive and defeat a knight from House Frey. 

Then, before anyone could react, she rushed her horse away and vanished into the woods. The King was enraged, deeming the mystery knight as a scheme by his enemies. He sent his Kingsguards and Rhaegar to catch the knight. But hours later, the Kingsguard and Rhaegar returned empty-handed. 

Wylis chuckled from the sidelines, noticing Lyanna return to the stands even before the search party returned. 

Let's tease her about it later. 

There was an issue now, however. Since Lyanna was supposed to be in the last four, her vanishing meant only three men remained. Him, Ser Arthur, and Prince Rhaegar. He fully expected that he'd have to joust Ser Arthur. 

But instead, Prince Rhaegar faced the Sword of the Morning. As expected, the silver-haired Prince won. And with that, the final showdown of the last day of the tourney was set—Wylis against Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. 

As the day's events came to an end, Wylis looked up in the stands, at Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne. Both women were looking back at him. Then, Seven knows what the two women thought, they nodded toward him, as if permitting him to defeat Rhaegar. 

As if I need that. I'm doing this for myself.

No, he was doing it to save Lyanna. He didn't know if she was really smitten by the married Prince. But he wanted to shatter all that image of royal majesty Rhaegar held in her eyes. He wanted to tell the realm, the women, the men, that the fucker was nothing special. 

Later that night, the feast hall seemed divided into two camps. One supported Rhaegar, and the other supported Wylis. Though, there were more on Rhaegar's side. The man was a Prince and heir to the Iron Throne. Most sane nobles didn't bother with a stableboy who'd at best become a knight. 

"Don't let the wretch rattle you. Smash his bloody skull and be done with it." Robert cheered Wylis up. 

"It's not a duel, Robert. It's a joust." Brandon corrected the Lord of Storm's End. 

"Whatever—Unhorse him right on his arse."

Wylis sighed and drank very lightly. Being the man under everyone's gaze, he didn't play around with Lyanna either and after having his fill, he went to sleep in his bedchamber. He loved the spotlight, but that was when smallfolk were involved as well. If only nobles eyed him, it made him slightly uneasy. As all of them had a much higher status than him.

Can't wait to see their faces tomorrow. 

####

It was the fifth day of the Joust and the last day of the tourney. 

Ellia Martell woke up early that morning and wore her best royal gown, a mix of gold and sandy yellow, with jewelry around her neck, her wrists, her head, and her ears. She took pride in her beauty, even though her body remained frail. She truly considered herself beautiful, and that was the reason why she slowly came to loathe Rhaegar Targaryen, her husband. 

For far too long she'd been a gentle, good, and gracious lady. Nobody respected her for that. No, not even her husband. Despite giving him two children, an heir, even with her delicate health, the man ignored her. Now, chasing after a young girl.

That day, after waking up, she prayed to the Gods. Not for her husband's victory, but his loss. 

"Ashara." She looked at her handmaiden who was holding her young son in her arms. "Did you meet with him again?"

"No, Your Grace. But if things go well, we all will meet him at the feast," Ashara said, averting her gaze. She clearly remembered her promise to Wylis. "Let's go, it'll begin soon."

####

There were many hidden interests at play. But when Wylis donned his armor that day, he had only one aim. 

Break Rhaegar's teeth. 

With his old, mismatched armor now polished thanks to some gracious nobles sending their squires to aid him, he looked a little better now. Decent enough for the final tilt of the joust. Then, he mounted his handsome horse, grabbed his lance, and headed toward the jousting field. 

On his way, men came out of the other tents. None looked rich or that neatly armored. They were mostly squires, lowborn men at arms, or second sons. They clapped for him as he passed them. 

Everyone loves an underdog story, I guess. 

Waving towards them, he proceeded into the well-guarded jousting field. 

"WYLIS!"

"WYLIS!"

Holy shit! That's loud! 

The crowd that day was intense. With all the seats in the stands taken, there were a lot of people standing beyond the edge of the field. They roared, they clapped, too many sounds to focus on. 

Wait, I think I can hear a shout for 'Die' as well.

Ignoring them, he looked towards the King and bowed on his horse. Then, he looked at Lyanna, who was shouting for him with all her vocal strength, even smacking her brothers to do the same. Ashara waved towards him from beside Elia, and Cersei kept smirking without any greater response. In fact, it was Robert who was roaring the most, boasting that he'd buy everyone some wine if Wylis won. 

It all makes sense now. That's how he fucking bankrupted the Crown with just drinking and whoring. 

"DRAGON PRINCE!"

"PRINCE RHAEGAR!"

Here comes the silvery bastard. Wylis glared at Rhaegar's arrival. The man really had beautiful armor. Night-black plated, with a helmet that had dragon wings for ears. It was majestic. 

"On this glorious day!" The crier began. "We behold the final clash of this storied tourney—one for the annals of the realm! We've feasted well, we've drunk our fill, and watched blades clash like thunder! But now, the hour has come! Prince Rhaegar Targaryen takes up lance and shield to face none other than Wylis of Winterfell—aye, a lad once muckin’ stables now ridin’ against dragons!"

That sounds like he's mocking me. 

"Let the joust begin!" 

As the cheers drowned all other sounds, Wylis lowered his visor and got in position at the end of the tilt rail. He took a deep breath, eying the Prince from the narrow gap in his visor. He hated the man from the deepest depths of his heart. 

This is it. This is my moment. 

Only one attempt. If successful, the Seven Kingdoms will remember him for centuries. A stableboy who defeated the undefeated Prince. 

No more hiding. I'll be as I am—tall, strong, and proud. 

Woosh!

The flag was waved. 

Wylis rushed his horse and picked up speed. It all felt slow-motion to him. His heart pounded, but his breath was frozen. His entire focus was on Rhaegar's lance, reading and predicting his next move. The man was better than Ser Barristan, so he wanted to be careful. 

At swift speed, they galloped closer. 

Shield? Which side? 

Wylis read the Prince till the very last moment, the final moment beyond which it was impossible to bring down the lance in time. But he ignored that. He allowed himself to go past that and waited for the Prince to make a move. 

Got you!

As soon as he was sure about Rhaegar's move, he used every ounce of strength in his arm to push down the lance just in time. And then they clashed. 

CRACK!

BAM!

As expected! He's brilliant!

Rhaegar's lance struck Wylis square in the shield and splintered. 

Wylis didn't react to it and connected with Rhaegar's shield as well. But he continued the motion of his arm and right as his lance tapped on the shield, the lance's tip slid upward and strongly hit Rhaegar's helmet visor. It wasn’t easy to knock it open like that, so Wylis used his full strength. 

But that wasn't it. That wasn't how he wanted to break Rhaegar's teeth. He'd be disqualified for it, or worse, captured. He made it seem like a natural flow of his lance. 

"Aaah!"

As Rhaegar's lance had already splintered, he didn't have any counterbalance. When Wylis struck the visor and knocked it open, Rhaegar fell backward on horseback, rolling off since the horse kept galloping. 

It was guaranteed that the Prince would fall and lose now. But it was far from the end. 

That's it! 

From the ground, a tiny, barely visible pebble rose in the air and struck Rhaegar's horse hard on its rear near the hind legs. It struck so hard that a red, bleeding wound formed. 

The horse whinnied madly.

BAM!

The horse reacted as any and kicked backward with both its hind legs. 

Thud!

The metallic clank was so loud that it echoed throughout the stands and the field. The roaring crowds fell silent right away, gasps were audible. It all happened so fast, it was shocking. 

But not for Wylis. To him, it all felt slow. 

Come on… Get up!

Rhaegar Targaryen fell from his horse, backwards, rolling over the horseback, landing right on his face. 

For a moment, Wylis froze, wondering if the damage was too much. 

Don't pass out. 

And then, the dark armor moved. Rhaegar Targaryen raised his head first, and then got up on one knee, before slowly getting up fully. 

Once more, loud gasps resounded. The Prince's face was bleeding, his nose looked twisted, and his mouth especially, looked like a waterfall of blood. 

"Uhhhh~" Rhaegar groaned loudly, and at last, his eyes widened. He touched his lips and opened his mouth wide, trying to feel his front, upper teeth. There were none. 

Wylis smiled behind his visor and then hardened his expression. He raised the visor and looked at Cersei in the crowd. The girl was smiling ear to ear, nodding nonstop. Even Lyanna was chuckling, hiding her mouth behind her hand. 

What about the King? 

Wylis eyed the Mad King and sure enough, the crazed man was grinning all the same. Even more, the man showed real pleasure through his bright eyes, relishing his own son's misery. 

"My Prince!" Wylis shouted and jumped off his horse, rushing towards the Toothless Dragon. 

A few Kingsguards also rushed into the field, dragging a Maester along. But they blocked Wylis from approaching. 

"No-oh!" Rhaegar roared suddenly. 

Duel? Seriously? 

"Wylis… W-ylis-shhh." Rhaegar pushed aside the Kingsguard and walked towards Wylis, extending his arm. "You-uh… are the fh-inest fighter I've ever met."

The eyes don't match what the mouth is saying. What a two-faced little shit. 

There was rage in the Prince's eyes. There was shame and embarrassment. No doubt, Wylis had messed up Rhaegar's plans more than the Mad King. 

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Pat! Pat!

Rhaegar patted Wylis' arm and left the jousting field on foot. The Kingsguard and the Maester ran after the Prince. 

While all that chaos was happening, Wylis looked down and saw something interesting. He knowingly dropped a fastening hook from his armor and knelt to pick it up. But what he picked up was Rhaegar Targaryen's broken teeth, a total of three. 

Great souvenir. 

Then, he returned to his horse and mounted it. Right then, a young Stark soldier came running and handed him a beautiful crown made of red roses. He also handed his helmet to the man, ensuring everyone saw his handsome mug.

Since she gave me one, let's return the favor. 

At first, he wanted to crown Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty, his right as the champion of the joust. But then he'd ruin his relationship with Robert and Lord Stark. There was no need to do that as he planned to save her anyway. But in the case of Cersei, imprinting a noble, knightly, masculine image in the future queen's mind was far more valuable. 

Amidst the intense cheers of the crowds, many stood up to clap, Wylis rode his horse proudly to the edge of the stands beyond which Cersei was seated. She was still young, perhaps two years younger than him. But her beauty had sprouted like a forever-blooming flower. Although her personality was vile, Wylis told himself that this was just for her beauty. 

"My Lady." He called for her attention and received it completely. She was already blushing since all eyes in the entire field were on her. "It wasn’t just the fight I won—it was your favor that lit the fire. Please, accept my desire to crown you as my Queen of Love and Beauty."

Cersei extended her slender arm and took the crown made of fresh roses. It seemingly made her happy as she went as far as putting it on her head. It earned her loud cheers from all. 

But then, Cersei looked in her palm as she'd felt something more handed over to her. A faint look and a wide, somewhat evil grin curved on her pretty face. It was a single, bloody tooth. Of whom, she didn't need to be told. 

"Thank you, Wylis."

Wylis bowed his head subtly and turned his horse around. 

"Wylis of Winterfell! Present yourself to the King!"

Abruptly, a loud shout echoed. All lips stopped moving and all heads turned towards the King's high seat. Aerys Targaryen was standing. The one who shouted was Ser Gerold Hightower. 

Is it happening? 

A little bit alarmed, and somewhat excited, he rushed his horse close to the edge from where Aerys was in direct line of sight. Then Wylis got off his horse and took to one knee, saluting the king. 

"Delightful, boy! Truly delightful!" Aerys rasped, fingers twitching as he laughed too long. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he clapped—once, twice, sharp as whip cracks. "I expected little from this farce of a feast, but you… oh, you’ve lit a spark in me. Entertained me, yes. Impressed me, perhaps. And made me crave. Dragons hoard rare things, you know. Rare… and flammable."

What's he trying to say? Wylis felt an ominous chill. 

"Ahhh, so Lord Stark keeps his treasures buried in snow and ice. A clever boy, are you? No matter—I shall unearth you. Yes, yes, I shall anoint you, here and now. The realm will remember this day—"

Really? It can't be that easy. 

"Swear to House Targaryen, and ride in my name, Wylis of Winterfell. Win their petty tourneys, crush their boasts. When you triumph, they shall say the King has won. When they praise you, it shall be my glory. Their applause shall be mine. Their awe, my inheritance. Speak—will you serve your true king, or do you nurse treason behind that northern tongue?"

What the—What is this mad fuck saying? So he wants a fucking toy? A tourney toy? Wait, what if I lose? Burned in a wildfire? No thanks.

But it wasn't easy to refuse the King and get away with it. And if he annoyed the man now, it'd become impossible to enter King's Landing as long as the man lived. 

"Words cannot describe how proud I feel from your praise, Your Grace. You stood up, you praised me, a lowly stableboy—I am moved. The tales of your kindness to us smallfolk were no lies, Your Grace. I see it now... why you’re loved like you are." Wylis babbled on, all humility and praises for the King, talking about how he'd throw his life away for the mad bastard. 

Aerys, as expected, ate it up. If it were a noble, he’d have dismissed it, but from a lowly stableboy, every word sounded real enough.

Before Aerys could get annoyed, Wylis got to the point. 

"This is my first time beyond Winterfell, Your Grace. I've long dreamt of seeing King's Landing. I—I want to be a knight—not just in name, but in deed. To serve you proper. Still, I’ve not done anything great yet. That bothers me. I need to prove I’m worth the title. Win something grand enough to lay at your feet."

The King sneered for a moment, looking furious. But then a devilish smile crept on his lips. He stroked his beard and nodded. "Very well. Bring me one hundred bandits. That shall be enough."

Knowing Aerys' personality, Wylis raised his head towards the King and asked like a mad worshipper. "May I bring them dead or alive, Your Grace?"

Aerys matched Wylis' madness with his gleaming, violet eyes. He showed an ugly, filthy grin. "Beheaded—Bring me a hundred bandit heads!"

"I shall do it, Your Grace." Wylis bowed his head with full confidence. 

"Marvelous! Just as I foresaw, boy! Let all the lords and leeches hear it—Wylis of Winterfell walks the realm unshackled! Let him cleave the heads of bandits like wheat at harvest. Any man who bars his path has defied me—And the penance for treason… oh, they shall taste fire."

Enough said, the King turned and left the stands. 

Wylis let out a sigh of relief. Dealing with the Mad King was more intense than any duel or joust. 

He almost had me, fuck! And a hundred bandits? It shouldn't be hard to find, right?

####

That evening, the feast was grand, just like the first time. The music was plenty, as was the food. The King was present and laughing visibly, while the Prince was absent. Just from the looks on some faces, it was known that Rhaegar's camp had suffered a clear defeat. Not just in their plot against Aerys, but also in the tourney.

"Bahaha! By the gods! I will never forget this day in my life! You knocked him out like a sack of shit! Haha!" Robert didn't know personal boundaries, and sat beside Wylis, drinking and laughing, reminiscing about Rhaegar's defeat. He loathed the man for daring to seek his betrothed's favor. 

Lyanna was seated there too, forced to be there by her brothers on Lord Rickard's order. To ensure Robert and Lyanna felt comfortable with each other. But with Robert like that, it was doubtful if even whores paid in gold would feel comfortable with him.

Wylis awkwardly winked at Lyanna and drank plenty that night. But once he started feeling tipsy, he excused himself to find something better to eat. 

"Wylis?"

"I was waiting for you to—" Wylis turned around, expecting Ashara. But there was Elia Martell beside her, standing there sternly in her regal beauty. 

Seriously, Rhaegar? You have her and still want more?

This marked the first time he saw her from that close. While she was flat-chested, her face was just… exotic. Not because of her color but because of her scent, her demeanor, and her status. 

"You fought well, Wylis of Winterfell," Elia said, soft voice, and elegant. "I think your tale is only just beginning. I shall be watching with great interest."

Wylis bowed his head to show respect to a royal. "Should fortune favor me, Your Grace, we may meet again soon."

"With your knight spurs, I'm sure." Elia indirectly bid him luck and left the feast, finding it shameful to be there with her husband injured. 

Wylis eyed Ashara as she lingered behind for a moment. "So, what's the plan?"

Ashara turned red and shook her head. "A-At night… I'll visit…"

And with that, she ran away like a maiden caught touching herself. 

Wylis chuckled and went around eating different things, getting to know some nobles and merchants. He even danced with a few ladies who were daring enough to approach him. Thanks to his acts in the tourney, women now saw him as more knightly than scary.

But the more he danced with women, the harder it became to control his desire. Ashara's promise lingered in his thoughts. So once he saw the hall getting empty and only drunk men remaining, he left for his bedchamber as well.

####

Initially, he had no plans or even expectations that he'd get to bed someone like Ashara Dayne during the tourney. But now, he not only desired it but was immensely excited about it. 

Thud!

"No need for these." Wylis entered his modest room and slammed the door shut. Alone, he quickly discarded his surcoat and tunic, going bare-chested. Then, he threw his boots away and removed his breeches along with smallclothes, getting butt naked. 

Living there for the last nine days, he'd brought over a spare chair to his room that previously only had a bed. 

Screech!

He grabbed the chair, dragged it to the middle of the room, right in front of the door, and then sat down on it, arms crossed, legs decently wide open, his cock modestly hard in expectation. He was feeling rather brave that evening with wine doing the magic and his coffers heavy with gold. Although he'd dug himself into a challenging situation, he wasn't scared of it. He was already planning on visiting King's Landing. 

Should have brought some oil or something. He thought while looking at his growing erection. Even he knew that his size was significant. He just hoped Ashara would be able to take it as she was taller and had wider hips than Lyanna. 

Thinking about women, his thoughts veered off to other women. There were so many, but he needed someone urgently to quickly regain his lost years. He didn't know about trueborn, but siring bastards was easy. He just needed a willing woman. Sure, he had someone in mind, but he feared she'd be too expensive. 

Also…

Childbirth is extremely dangerous in this world and era. 

The last thing he wanted was to find willing women ready to sire him bastards, only for them to die. What he needed was a trustable Maester, crazy enough to learn from him about biology. Heck, he was willing to buy more skills with his life to make childbirth safe. 

But I need an estate first. Ugh… So much to do. I'm not even a knight yet. 

Knock! Knock!

Just as his cock started to lose the heat, he heard a knock on the door. He straightened his back in full expectation, the candles burning bright around the entire room. It was late at night, just the time for her to arrive. 

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

He recognized her voice. But he needed more assurance. "What do you need?"

"I… I came to… give you… your prize…"

It was worth it! Wylis took a deep breath and allowed her in. 

"The door is open."

Click!

The door creaked softly as it swung open, and Ashara stepped inside. She was dressed in a simple nightgown, draped loosely over her sensual curves, the delicate fabric whispering against her skin as it shimmered to her ankles. The gown was sleeveless, revealing the smooth, pale flesh of her arms, while her long, dark hair cascaded untamed over her shoulders, tumbling in waves. 

Her violet eyes sparkled full of unspoken thoughts. As her gaze flickered over him, her breath caught in her throat. When her gaze landed on him, her breath hitched. Her lips parted on a gasp she didn’t mean to give, her whole body stilling. “Oh…”

Ashara swallowed hard. She knew why she had come to his bedchamber—had imagined it, prepared herself. But seeing him like this, her resolve cracked.

She hadn’t expected him to be so… hard for her. Her eyes dipped to the thick, veiny rod jutting between his legs, hungry and heavy. The sight of it made her core clench with heat.

The muscles of his chest and broad shoulders, each inch of his body carved with strength. His arms were like thick pillars. It was overwhelming, the sheer size of him. And the way he looked at her… like he was about to eat her up.

"Eager?" She smirked and locked the door behind her. 

Wylis shrugged, arms still crossed under his chest. His magnificent, thick, veiny cock throbbed in full might, erection so ripe his lush purple cockhead twitched with pumps. "What can I say, Lady Ashara, you motivated me plenty."

Unable to take her eyes off his masculinity, she stepped closer. The last time she'd tasted it, felt it almost there, and tonight, she was determined to feel it all the way. A daunting task just looking at it. But it aroused the deeper desires she didn't know she had. It was the same the last time. Just sitting on his legs made her drenched. 

That tall frame of his, that confidence, his strength, and all that she had seen during the day. Rhaegar's bloodied face, the Prince's shattered pride. Wylis was the reason behind it all and to a man like this, she felt like surrendering. She fought that idea itself, but her body desired it, longed for it. 

"If motivation led you this far, I wonder how far will this… take you."

She loosened the laces and let her gown slide down her shoulders, bare beneath it. Her ripe breasts bounced slightly as they were freed, their rosy tips already stiff with need. Her smooth, pale skin begged to be touched, marked, and owned. That tight waist, those wide hips, that plush little ass; every inch of her screamed to be handled. Between her thighs, the soft slit of her virgin cunt glistened faintly, hairless and tight, looking far too unqualified to take a man like him. She was trembling, but not from fear—she wanted it. Wanted him, all of him, even if he’d split her in two.

Wylis sipped a hot breath. He really wanted to dive into her. She was seriously stunning, her face, her body, it was all just perfect. "Only one way to find out."

"Perhaps…"

She moved with elegant, sinful purpose, descending to her knees like a worshiper before a god. Her violet eyes locked onto his face, never wavering, never blinking—as she settled between his thighs, just like that night. But this time, Wylis didn’t lift a single finger.

Wylis leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, muscles flexing with ease as he watched her. Her slender fingers wrapped around the thick base of his cock, her other hand cradling the heavy, full weight of his balls like she was claiming something. 

Then her tongue slithered out. She leaned in and dragged it from the root of his cock, where it throbbed thick and heavy, all the way up the underside in a slick, wet line. Saliva spilled from her tongue as she licked, coating his shaft with glistening spit that clung to his veins like syrup.

She paused to swirl her tongue around a bulging vein, mouthing it like she meant to suck the heat from it, then continued upward, deliberate, greedy. At the tip, she curled her tongue beneath the crown and circled the rim in slow, teasing spirals, lapping at the tender ridge with focus.

Spit smeared over his twitching head as she flicked the tiny slit with short, wet strokes like she was coaxing every drop out of him.

Then her mouth latched onto the tender underside of his cock, his frenulum, with hungry intent, suckling like a starving whore who’d found her favorite toy. Her lips were sealed tight, creating a wet vacuum that pulled a raw groan from his throat.

“Ummmmh~”

Her tongue curled around that hyper-sensitive strip of flesh and worked it mercilessly; flicking, swirling, dragging slow licks across the nerve-drenched spot like she was playing with his trigger. Every motion of her mouth was greedy, precise. Her cheeks hollowed as she suckled hard, then loosening just enough to let her tongue lash under the head in tight, rhythmic circles.

"I thought I was the first man to be this… close. How are you so good at this?"

Ashara giggled sultrily and eyed him with her violet eyes. Her fist gripped him harder for a moment, clenching him. "Aye, this is my first experience but not my first… viewing."

"Ugh… You… leaned well."

Sloppy, yes—but skilled in a way that shocked him. Especially for a highborn maiden. Her lips suckled gently on his tip, her tongue flicking just under the head, teasing the slit with strokes. She kissed the sensitive rim, her tongue swirling around his thick crown while one hand massaged his sack and the other held him upright. 

Her eyes gleamed with fascination, almost reverence. Her lips latched onto his knob and sucked, stimulating every nerve like she’d discovered a secret weapon. Her tongue swirled, teasing him to no end. 

“Gh...” He nearly groaned aloud. His fists opened and clenched, trying not to grab her by the hair. His cock throbbed in her grip, twitching madly like it had a mind of its own.

"Stand up, Ashara," Wylis ordered her, feeling impatient, a risky thing to do to a noblewoman as a lowborn. But at that moment, he had the upper hand. 

She rose with poise, licking her lips as she looked down at him. Wylis stood as well, that massive body towering over her once again. Her hand found his cock instinctively, stroking it once more as her eyes devoured him.

“Put one foot on the chair, will you?” he said, voice lower now, hands grazing her sides. 

She did as asked, lifting her leg and resting it on the wooden arm of the chair. The motion spread her thighs open, and he took his time drinking in the sight. Her glistening pussy parted slightly, delicate petals flushed. She was already slick for him.

Ashara reached for his cock again, trying to pull him into her, her intent clear.

Wylis chuckled and shook his head. “Not so fast, Ashara.”

He dropped to his knees, his powerful form still towering even in that position. Without rising off his heels, his head was already level with her cunt.

“Aaaaah~”

His hands wrapped around her waist, fingers digging into the soft meat of her hips. Then he leaned in, burying his face in her wet heat. His tongue dragged a long, ravenous lick up her folds, tasting her like she was something divine. She was already soaked, but he wanted more. His mouth worked her over, sucking her clit into his lips, tongue flicking mercilessly.

His long arms reached up, hands claiming her full breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, rolling them slowly, then pinching hard enough to make her jolt. He suckled and licked between her legs like a man famished, the faint scrape of his stubble teasing her raw nerves with every breath.

“Oohhh~ Wylis!” Ashara’s head tilted back, her moans spilling freely. She clutched at his hair with both hands, not even trying to hold back anymore.

It was her first time being devoured like this, and she was obsessed. There was no man more masculine than Wylis, and now he was on his knees, giving her this unrelenting pleasure. It wasn’t love, but it was something just as consuming. It was natural. It felt destined. 

His tongue plunged inside her, tongue-fucking her pussy while his thumb rubbed her clit in rough, teasing circles. 

She gasped, jerked, and rolled her hips against his mouth, riding his tongue with growing desperation. She was right on the edge, legs trembling from the effort to stay upright. Her thoughts were gone. Her moans were constant. Her body screamed for more.

He devoured her like a possessed man, tongue plunging deep into her soaked cunt, thrusting and curling inside her with beastly greed. His lips clamped around her clit and tugged, sucking like he meant to tear pleasure from her body one moan at a time. Her thighs were soaked, smeared in spit and her own syrup, as she writhed and jerked uncontrollably with every stroke of that hot, slick muscle.

Her body quivered, overstimulated, soaking his face in nectar.

Wylis inhaled her deeply. Her raw, messy scent clung to his tongue and face. She was new to this, untouched, dripping with virgin heat. He’d tasted Lyanna before. Now Ashara. And the act of claiming her, of being first, lit something primal in him. He wanted her stretched. Branded. An erotic memory that would haunt her cunt forever. She may marry some lord and birth babes, but her body would still throb with echoes of him. One day, she'd whisper stories of a man built like a god who once made her feel heaven between her legs.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, her voice broken, soaked in lust.

"Wylis—ah, gods—Wylis! I love it… I didn’t know it could feel like this…!"

And just as she was about to come undone, he pulled away. She whimpered a broken, needy sound, as her slick coated his lips like honey.

Her legs trembled, cunt pulsing helplessly in the open air, aching for his mouth again, but he just stared up at her, lips glistening, breath hot like he was savoring her taste. That stolen climax hovered, cruel and unfinished, burning behind her ribs.

He stood, towering, chest heaving. One hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face up, urging her to meet his gaze, those violet eyes dazed with lust.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, tasting the salt there. Then he kissed her mouth. Hard, messy, tongue pushing past her lips and curling with hers. She welcomed it, clinging to him with desperate hands, her nails dragging across his broad chest, searching for something to hold onto.

As their mouths tangled, Wylis lowered himself, legs parting wide, one hand guiding his slick cock to her glistening, untouched entrance. With her foot propped on the chair and her swollen, slick pussy spread open, the sight was fucking perfect. Her lower lips quivered, trembling around the tight, virgin hole waiting to be claimed.

“It’ll sting… and stretch. A lot,” he warned, voice rough as gravel.

Ashara’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it burned with desire. “Um… kiss me and… do it.”

She pulled him in for another kiss. Deeper this time, needier—and he didn’t make her wait. He pushed. 

Her cunt resisted at first, taut, clutching tightly around the crown of his cock. The pressure was immediate, thick, unyielding. 

“Oohhh~ Gods!” Ashara gasped into his mouth, her entire body going rigid as he pushed his way in. The stretch was brutal, almost cruel.

Her untouched petals clung around his girth like a fist, and then—she felt it. That sharp, searing sting deep inside. Her virgin barrier tore with an unmistakable sting, a wet heat blooming between them. Her nails raked across his shoulders, leaving red trails in her wake.

“Mmmnh—Wylis!” She cried into his mouth, pain and pleasure spiraling, her moans choked and needy. It hurt. It burned. But it also… felt good. Her head spun with sensations she couldn’t name.

Wylis groaned into the kiss. It felt so… erotic. This was Ashara Dayne, whose maidenhead he just took. A privilege that men would sell their souls to buy. She was so tight he could barely breathe, the velvet walls of her fresh cunt gripping every inch of him. Never touched, never stretched, never fucked—until now. 

His cock throbbed violently inside her, head flaring, pushing her open with slow, deep, prying thrusts. Every pull felt like heaven. Every push, like claiming a throne. Her juices coated him, her flesh slippery around him despite the tightness. Inch by inch, he buried himself inside her, feeling her flutter, tense, and open around his size.

When he finally plunged to the deep end, obscenely buried to the very root of his cock, he broke the kiss and looked down between them.

Ashara looked too.

A thin red sheen painted where their bodies joined. Her virgin blood, streaked down her inner thighs, clinging to the base of his cock, tainting the glistening flood of her arousal. Her pussy stretched wide around him, swollen and red, dripping down his shaft in glistening strings of red and clear slick.

I've done it… Shit… Hope this ends well.

“Any regrets?” Wylis asked, his cock still buried in her, twitching inside her blood-slick cunt.

Ashara locked eyes with him, lips flushed and kiss-bruised, breathless from pleasure. 

“None at all,” she whispered before crashing her mouth to his. The moment their lips met again, he drove his hips forward, and her entire body jolted.

Her moans spilled into his mouth as he began fucking her delicate, noble cunt, hips thrusting hard and relentless. With every brutal push, she rose onto the toes of her planted foot, body trembling, barely holding her balance as he speared deeper and deeper every time her body came down. Each stroke stretched her open again, the slow drag of his thickness making her gasp.

“Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh~” Her nails raked across his upper arms, digging into the firm muscle, holding on as though she might fall apart without him. She sobbed into his mouth, lost in pain and drowning in pleasure all at once. Her breasts bounced between them, pressing and smushing against him with every roll of his hips. 

Then—

She shattered. Violent and raw, her first time utterly helpless to pleasure, overwhelmed by waves of bliss crashing too soon and too hard.

Her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, milking his cock in spasms. Her thighs shook, her belly tightened, and cries strangled into desperate sobs of ecstasy. Warm juices spilled over his shaft, flooding down her thighs, and soaking their feet. Her body spasmed uncontrollably, eyes rolling back as she clung to him for dear life.

Wylis grunted, sliding out of her slick, spent cunt, a thick thread of arousal stretching between them. His cock throbbed, aching to bury itself deep again. Without hesitation, his hands grabbed her hips and hauled her toward the bed, cock still rock-hard, ready to make her scream one more time.

She barely had time to catch her breath before he pushed her back, settling his weight over her again. His hands grabbed one soft, elegant leg and lifted it high, resting it heavy against his shoulder, spreading her wide open like scissors. One leg above, and the other between his own legs, straight, she was stretched wide beneath him.

Ashara’s eyes locked on his, beyond her raised leg, catching the fierce desire blazing in his gaze. There was hunger in his eyes, hunger for her, and that made her heart thump wildly.

He leaned in, his size making her leg stretch even farther up until it felt like she was doing a split. Then he lined his cock and...

“Aaaaah! Oh, W-Wylis!” She cried out.

Without mercy, he slammed into her with a savage thrust, filling her completely, pouring in all of his uncommon girth and size till it vanished whole. Her body arched violently, her tits bouncing from the brutal impact. He fucked her like a force of nature, every plunge stealing her breath. His weight crushed her down, hips hammering hard against her pelvis. Inside, she swelled and clenched, trembling around his cock.

His free hand grabbed her ample breast, squeezing the softness, then slid up to her throat, fingers wrapping gently but firmly around it.

“Ohhh oh–!” Ashara’s eyes widened in shock and lust. Violet irises were blown wide, and glassy, tears streaking down her cheeks from the raw intensity. Her tongue lolled out, drool trailing from the corner of her mouth as her voice dissolved into an endless stream of moans.

The entire bed shook beneath them, the mattress crying out as his massive body drove into her again and again.

Her cunt clenched tighter and tighter, grinding down on him like a vice as his cock slammed against her cervix, pushing so deep it felt like her womb shifted with the impact.

“I-Uh… I can… feel you—ooooh! S-So deep… U-Under my… belly!” She cried brokenly, his size too much.

“Ggghhh!” Wylis hovered, a towering wall of flesh and heat, utterly consuming her fragile frame. His thick cock impaled her, splitting her open as humanly possible. 

Her hair tangled and wild, tossed across the sheets, as his brutal thrusts rocked her from head to toe. Her slender yet curvy body jolted with each motion. She was sore, drenched, overwhelmed, and she wanted it. She wanted more. Even if it broke her.

“Yes, yes, yes… Oh! Wylis… I can’t… K-Kiss! Kiss me!” She begged, her legs trembling with overstimulation, the constant shivers made it apparent that she was close.

With his hand still curled gently around her throat, he stared down at her as he kept drilling into her cunt; watching her fall apart, flushed and desperate, her mouth parted in need. 

He bent lower, pressing her down more, inch by inch, body getting heavier onto hers. Her single raised leg stretched even further up, trembling against his shoulder until her hips tilted up and he could feel the pulse of her cunt squeezing him from deep inside. It was a stirring feeling to be balls deep in a famed beauty like her, to stretch her cunt in ways no other man ever could.

His breath mingled with hers. He hovered there for a second; hot, panting, eyes locked on her ruined, wanting face, before finally claiming her mouth again.

She shrieked into his mouth as he kissed her, her scream muffled as she bit down on his lip. Her eyes went wide, then rolled up as the pleasure hit her like a crashing wave. She fell over the edge once again. Her cunt gushed, milking his cock with greedy spasms, sucking him deeper as her body convulsed around him like it couldn’t bear to let go. 

The look on her face, wild, feral, worshipful—was too much.

Wylis was already on the edge, but that pushed him over. As he watched her fall to ruin beneath him, he made a choice. One he didn’t know if he’d come to regret, but in that moment, all reason was gone.

Fuck it. If this keeps her alive… let it be.

He drove in deep, all the way, and then—he burst with full surrender. Hot, thick, virile rush of seed exploded inside her, jet after jet of molten cream shooting deep into her virgin womb, painting her cunt in ways only those married do. He was young, and so was she, and he had no doubt the seed would take home.

“Ooooooh!”

Ashara’s body trembled at the sensation. She felt it, every pulsing rope, every splash against her sensitive inner walls. The very idea of it, being filled with seed, thrilled her arousal even more. She knew what it was. She knew what he was doing to her. But instead of panic… She felt satisfaction. A dark, primal joy.

She cursed herself for it. She was highborn. A daughter of nobility. But under him, under this beast of a beautiful man and the cock that wrecked her, all she could do was give in to the craving. The sinful need that made her body shiver in pure bliss and shudder at his cock’s abuse.

Panting, she lay there, twitching, as his cock throbbed inside her one last time before slowing. His thick batter oozed out of her, leaking past her swollen, sore folds and pooling on the bedding in creamy streams.

Wylis gently lowered her leg, and she whimpered from the soreness, her body limp from everything he had done to her.

Still on top of her, he started kissing her again. Not just her lips, her whole face. Her cheeks, her forehead, her soft neck, her tits, then back to her mouth. Each kiss was slow, lingering butterflies that left his mark, telling her without words how much he admired her beauty.

“Any regrets?” he asked once more, a bit more warmly this time.

Ashara, her dreamy eyes half closed, caressed both her hands over his face and pushed aside the damp strands of his brown hair. Her thumb lingered on his lower lip, where her bite had left a visible swell, and she gently traced over it, a slow drag of flesh on flesh.

"I don't… but you might…” She murmured, but then moaned softly. “Oh—You're too much to take, Wylis… let's talk in the morning."

He kissed her again, lips pressing into hers. Then he laid beside her, pulled her against his chest, and wrapped those thick arms around her soft, spent frame. Her body, still slick with sex and sweat, clung to him like melted wax.

His cock, already rising again, twitched faintly against her bare belly. He could’ve gone again, but he knew her limits. Her cunt was raw, her inner thighs sore, his cum still leaking from her slit in slow, messy drips, painting the bedding.

She’d taken everything he had. And now she was there, bare and branded in every way that mattered.

Regrets? Maybe… But I wanted this.

####

"Owaaaah~" 

Wylis yawned with a wide open mouth. He'd woken up early, or rather, he slept too little. Ashara was more daring than he thought and after an hour or so of rest, they did it again. Then a few hours later, they did it one more time. Each time she grew more accustomed to his size and by the end, she didn't mind how hard he plunged through her tight fertile cunt. 

And he unashamedly spilled inside her each time. She didn't react to it either, just taking it over and over again with big, panting smiles and sniffles that made the musky room feel intoxicating. They coiled in the bed like snakes, wrapped in each other's arms. On the bed, by the wall, on the chair, sitting, standing, and even on the fucking floor. 

She could barely walk straight when she left his bedchamber in the early hours of the morning. Though the kiss before she left was too arousing, as if she didn't want to leave his room. As if she wanted more of him. 

He made no promises, but he was sure in his heart that he'd see her again soon. 

After Ashara left, instead of sleeping, Wylis packed his luggage. He had a massive task ahead, and he wasn't unwilling to fulfill it, as it would only spread his name further and make him seem more legendary. 

When the sun shone its first light on Harrenhal, he arrived at the feast hall where a few drunk nobles from the previous night still lay asleep in their own puke. There was no morning feast, but they were allowed to seek some food from the servants before starting their journey.

"Bring me some bread, boiled eggs, milk, boiled meat, and a pinch of salt," Wylis asked a frail young man serving the hall and tossed him a copper penny. The coin was for him since the food was free.

Slowly, the hall started to get livelier. For many lords, staying away from their fief for too long was unsettling. Most wished to head home right away. Some lords from nearby had even left the previous night after the feast.

"There you are, Wylis." Lyanna arrived with her brothers and sat down right beside him, beaming with a bright smile. She was happy that Wylis won, and even happier that he bested the pretentious prince. "You're really staying behind?"

Wylis received his food just then and started preparing his small feast, peeling the boiled eggs. "What can I do? The King asked me to bring him a hundred bandit heads. I'll go around catching them."

“You’re truly set on this?” Lyanna asked, voice softening in worry. “Wylis, no one’s going to care if you choose not to. You don’t have to.”

He gave a casual shrug. "I also want to take a look at King’s Landing while I have the chance. Not every day I come this far south."

"True enough. But don’t think you’ll miss my wedding and go unpunished. I’ve laid eyes on Catelyn, and seven hells, she's finer than I hoped. She’s got a sister, too—maybe I’ll have you knighted and married before the feast is through." Brandon drunkenly offered, his hangover still not gone.

Lysa? That dumb bitch? Fuck no!

"I’ll pass on that. Think I'll hunt for a woman on my own. One who’s got a bit of wild in her, fierce as a wolf, and secretly plays at being a knight when no one's looking. Who charges into battle for the thrill of it!"

"Hah! Good luck with that mythical quest," Brandon chortled.

"Ehm…" Lyanna stiffened beside Wylis, confused and shocked that he knew her secret. 

Got you, girl. 

He pinched her thigh under the table to tease her. With his free hand, he shoved food in his mouth. The drawback of eating boiled eggs was that they were dry. In a rush, he gulped down the glass of milk as well. 

"It's just a hundred bandits. I'll be back home before you know it," Wylis replied, now caressing her leg under the table. He really wanted to spend a night with her, but there were too many eyes on Lyanna. 

Love? No. Lyanna simply cherished Wylis more than anything. It was a strange relationship for her as well. She wanted to hold onto him, she wanted to do unholy things with him. All the while knowing they can never be more than that, never marry or be lovers.

"Try to stay alive, Wylis." She put her hand on his, the one on her leg. 

I'll have to if I'm to keep that Targaryen bastard away from you. 

He ignored Eddard's suspicious gaze on the other side of the table and smiled at Lyanna. "Keep my tourney gold safe for m—"

THUD!

"WYLIS!" 

What? What happened?!

"WYLIS! GET UP! M-MAESTER!" 

Lyanna? What's she saying? 

All Wylis felt was a sudden jolt in his body. He felt all of his body freeze and with a thud, his face fell forward onto his plate. His eyes were wide open, as was his mouth, but he couldn't say or move anything. Not even blink.

Wh-What’s happening?

And then, he felt a sudden pain in his chest. 

No, no, no… Did someone… No!

Lyanna's voice started to feel distant. He could see the blurry image of her hand trying to move him. 

Ting!

And then appeared that magical, blue screen in front of his eyes. It slowly turned red, however, looking ominous. 

[The Tyrant's Squire Emergency Enforcement!]

[Host Rescue Exploits Engaged!]

[Poison Detected!]

[Searching Shop!]

Ting!

[All Poison Immunity - 10 Years]

[Death Imminent In 8, 7, 6…]

T-Ten years?!