The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 18 - Making of a Tyrant IV: The Breeding Grounds, The Wedding & The Goal (Patreon)

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Ding!... Ding!...

The bells of the Sept kept ringing. 

The battle had come to its end. Wylis had killed the two core commanders, and the rest were being hunted down across the town. 

"What a pretty, muscular princess, a little on the heavier side."

"Shut it!" Robert groaned in pain.

Wylis chuckled, carrying Robert Baratheon in his arms, like a princess, as he walked into the Sept where the bells were ringing. 

"Healer!" Wylis shouted as soon as he entered. 

He placed Robert on a bedding on the floor with many more men around in a similar situation. The healers were working overtime, but once Robert arrived, they all focused on him. He was one of the anchors of the rebellion, after all. 

Wylis let them work on Robert. Sure, he could have done a much better job than those healers, but since Robert wasn't going to die, he didn't bother. The goal was to ensure Robert wouldn't get in his way in the battle against Rhaegar. 

Only a few more skirmishes before Trident. 

"Robert!"

Right then, Eddard also arrived with some Northern men. The battle was truly over, and even the bells stopped ringing. 

"What happened to him?" Eddard questioned. 

Wylis shrugged, using a nearby bucket and a cloth to wipe the blood off himself. "I was just about to take down Jon Connington and Myles when Robert barged in and told me to back off. Said he’d take care of it himself. He didn’t. Got his ass handed to him."

"I slipped!" Robert roared from a distance while getting his wounds cleaned. 

"As he said," Wylis nodded. “I ended Jon and Myles’s after Robert fell. Lord Hoster was there as well. I arrived just in time to rescue him. He should be bringing the corpses over now.”

Eddard frowned at Wylis' nonchalance. "You should have stopped him."

"Refuse Lord Baratheon's orders?" Wylis stared back at Eddard.

"Easy, Ned. Don’t pin this on him. The man fought like a damn storm. By the time I got there, he’d already dropped four men. You should’ve seen him when he nailed Jon onto the wall—madness." Robert boastfully praised. "Ugh… What do you say, Wylis? Still time to claim a title. You’ve got the fury. Stormlands could use you."

And then what? Live with Lyanna there? Fuck no.

"You honor me, Robert. But I prefer the cold more than summer. Only the North feels like home." Wylis declined politely, eyeing Eddard's reaction to it. Sadly, there was none.

"Seven hells, you Northern bastards! Makes me wonder if your girls’ cunts are colder than your damn winters. Must be somethin’ in that frozen muck.” Robert quipped, even in pain. His one leg was brutally slashed, and one shoulder was nearly stabbed whole. “Enough talk—You two, take charge. I’m done for a few days.”

Eddard glanced at Wylis as he did the same. 

"We'll take care of it, Robert. Get yourself healed first," said Eddard, “It’ll be some time before the Mad King moves again.”

"Wylis." Robert looked at him. "Ned’s handling most, but Stormlands men? They’re different. Harder to bend, wilder still. I’m handing you their reins. Hold ‘em tight, and don’t let them falter."

"Don't worry about it, Robert." Wylis readily accepted. He did need to earn Robert's favor, after all. But he noticed some hesitation and unease in Eddard right beside him. The way the Northern lord gave him the side eye. 

So the wolf's instincts sniffed something out? 

Wylis reckoned that Eddard must be feeling threatened by his presence. They weren't friends. They weren't that close of an acquaintance either. Now, Eddard was Lord Stark, and Wylis was supposed to be under his command. Yet, Wylis never acknowledged that and acted independently. He had the right to since the King had knighted him. 

“At most, I expect a few minor skirmishes. Best we send scouts around to keep an eye on any movement," Wylis advised, basing it on what he already knew. "The Mad King’s taken this rebellion far too lightly so far. That changes now. He’ll likely call on Dorne and the Lannisters for reinforcements. We’ll be facing forty thousand, maybe more.”

"Seven Hells!" Robert cursed. "Ned, gather Hoster and Jon, and discuss it with them. We need to match their numbers, or come damn close."

"I'll do that." Ned nodded.

After that, Robert was left to rest and heal his wounds. Ned didn't invite Wylis to join him, nor did Wylis follow the man. Instead, Wylis went to the nearby tavern to get himself some food. 

"Oh, Ser Wylis."

The wife of the tavern owner greeted him with almost a moan. While that wasn’t rare, her eyes did appear slightly different. They were… lustful. 

Hundred percent loyalty. Is the entire town loyal to me?

Confused about the recent quest reward, he took a seat at a table and ordered himself a hearty meal. A whole roasted chicken, eggs, milk, a cup of wine, some bread, and thick bean soup. 

"Here's your food."

Soon enough, Wylis started to eat. But the whole time, he felt the woman's eyes focused on him. And it wasn't even subtle. Soon enough, another woman walked into the tavern to buy something, and she also stayed behind, staring at him.

Nonetheless, he ate like a noble beast. No chewing loudly. Not making a mess. He didn't leave a single grain of leftover food. The bones were chewed clean. 

"This be on us, Ser Wylis." The tavern owner's wife gave him another cup of wine. "You saved us from them brutes in the King’s colors. You're so… magnificent… I mean, magnanimous, Ser."

"..."

"Thank you." He took the cup and drank it in one breath. 

Quickly, he tossed the coin to her and walked out of the inn. Since the battle was over, the people had come out of hiding. The streets were now filled with men aiding in dealing with dead bodies. Women aiding the wounded. 

And no matter where Wylis went, he felt the eyes on him. Men looked at him with adoration, admiration, and women looked at him with something closer to lust. No matter the age, they all looked.

From some, he heard passing comments. Some liked his face. Some liked his size. A few wondered about his sausage. This was new. Previously, they were only interested in him. Now, they seemed completely captivated by him. 

Rubbing his chin, he visited a few more places. An Inn and a smaller tavern. He went to the market where most women used to gather. One by one, he confirmed what the Quest reward had said. 

If the ladies are willing, then… will they bear me kids? 

With no plans of leaving Stoney Sept anytime soon, he did have plenty of time to try things. 

Time to find out. 

####

Casterly Rock,

"Aaaaargh!" 

Genna Lannister roared from the birthing bed. Her grip clenched the sheets. She blurted curses at everyone around her, and even more at her husband. The poor man didn't even have anything to do with it. 

"Seven! H-How big is it?!" Genna cried, eyes red, sweat across her face. Although she'd given birth a few times before, and she was somewhat used to it, this felt a lot different. The babe was too chunky. 

Thankfully, Lannister Gold ensured that the best midwives were available. That the best medicine and tools were available. 

"Oooooooh! Someone… pull it out!" 

She was really loud about it. Enough that half the castle listened to her cries. 

At the same time, a few floors and corridors away, Lord Tywin sat within his solar with his brothers surrounding the table. A map of Westeros was spread open, with many positions marked on it. 

"Aerys will call on us when his pride can no longer shield him," Tywin said quietly. “But we must stall him. He’s already lost too much, and we cannot yet guess how far these rebels will press.”

"Two highborn commanders have already lost their heads."

"It was the giant," Tywin said coolly. "Tarly and Connington fell under Ser Wylis’ sword."

"That giant? I always thought he’d make a name for himself. There was something about him, a sort of presence," said Gerion Lannister with a frank tone. "Should’ve given him something worthwhile, maybe Cersei’s hand. He’s young enough for it."

Tywin sneered at his younger brother. "If you were any man but my brother, I would have taken your tongue for uttering such nonsense. Marrying Cersei to a stableboy? Do you believe fame alone grants station? If strength were all that mattered, I might as well betroth her to Gregor Clegane."

Gerion frowned smugly. "Come now, he’s got no cock left to speak of."

"..."

Kevan quickly coughed and changed the topic. "Should we begin preparing, Tywin? Soon or late, we will be on the Gold Road."

Tywin looked back at his more reasonable brother and nodded. "We'll do that, and more."

Their discussion continued from there, entering battle strategy if they were to fight from each side. But unbeknownst to them, their words were heard by one Cersei Lannister, who stood near the door. Being who she was, no guards had stopped her from listening in. 

Once the discussion about war became boring, the golden-haired, renowned beauty returned to her personal chamber and sat down by the window facing the sea. She poured herself a glass of wine and relaxed, her eyes dreamily staring into the distance. 

"He's become a Knight." She muttered, thinking about Wylis. She couldn't help but feel how deep of a mark he had left on her mind. From the day she met him in the tourney, he'd marred her thoughts. 

Without realising, her fingers touched the gold locket on her neck. As she felt it, she smiled, remembering whose tooth was inside it. Her trophy of sorts. She remembered how thrilling it was to see Wylis break the arrogant prince's jaw. And it happened while Wylis wore her favor. To her, it felt like her own victory. 

"Ummh…" 

Summer had arrived. 

Yet, the heat she felt between her delicate, creamy, long legs was a heat that no wine or bath could quench. 

"Mmmmh… Oh, Jaime." 

Before long, her one hand pulled her flowing gown high over her smooth legs and the other dug in, sliding under her smallcloth. She took pride in keeping herself proper, so feeling her own smooth cunt made her shudder. 

She truly loved herself the most. 

So much so that her own finger was enough to give her that high. 

"Mmmmmmh…"

But still. No finger could replicate what a cock did and… that day… she thought about it. 

"I wonder… how big he is… Gods, this is unbearable."

Soon enough, she chose to discard her entire gown and dragged herself to bed. There, in the nude, her one hand massaged her soft, round breast, fingers pinched the tips, and her other hand furiously squelched over her rosy, needy cunt. 

"Ooooooh~ Yes… I… Oh, stretch me… Wylis… Mmmh… Jaime…!"

Her thoughts were a mess. 

As much of a mess as it was in the other room where Genna's roars slowly started to quench. The big chunk of a babe had finally come out. And truly, it was one big babe with hair so gold the sun's reflection may turn the onlooker blind. Eyes so blue the seas would be put to shame, and a face that… rivaled the charm of the father. 

The moment Genna held her newborn son in her arms, she was smitten with love and adoration. At last, she had a son who looked worthy of her Lannister blood. Not like her inept, bald, thin husband and his Frey blood. 

While she loved her other children the same. She felt the newborn was going to reserve a special place. 

And so would the father of that babe. 

Seeing her son, she started to feel something. Perhaps that hard childbirth was worth it for a babe so beautiful and strong. Perhaps… a few more wouldn't hurt anyone. 

Gods, when will this damn war end? 

She cursed, eyes closed, her son against her chest, her mind relaxing, and her lips smiling. 

I hope he won't deny me more. 

####

"Aaaaah! Ah! Oooooh! Seven!" 

The large room smelled of nothing but sex and sweat. It was hot, humid, and ethereally arousing. The large king-sized bed couldn't contain so many bodies, so some were left sprawled on the floor. 

The women, ten of them, all nude, some panting, staring at the ceiling, smiling, others asleep, sprawled on the floor. Their beautiful, pale flesh nude to see, marred with deep kisses that left marks. Their tits, some overflowing, and some small, red with big palm marks, nipples red with suckles of the giant. 

Their lips were swollen. And their cunts overflowing with Wylis' virile filth. 

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Wylis was in the process of finishing up with the last woman, the eleventh one, the same widow that he'd been fucking over the past few weeks, Anna. She had finally agreed to bear him a babe. As did all the other ten women he'd fucked before in ways unimaginable. Spread them, bent them, pressed them, and threw them around. 

He'd never had the pleasure of receiving a blowjob and a rimjob by eleven women at the same time. Now he knew what it felt like—Heaven was the answer. Their slick tongues slathered his entire lower half.

He was drenched in sweat from head to toe. Standing proud in the middle of the room like a giant brute, his entire northern pale skin had turned red. That grand orgy had lasted three days, and now was the third night when he'd decided to end it. 

"Ummmmh…" Anna was in pure delirium, her light brown hair stuck to her skin in sweat, her dark eyes blown, her small tits marred with deep love bites. Her being on the shorter side, even shorter than Lyanna, she was truly like a fun-sized doll to Wylis. But again, all the women were fun-sized for him. 

Plap! Plap! Plap!

And the way he fucked her was too ravenous, too scandalous, like a woman made to be displayed to the room full of fucked silly, womb battered women, some married and others not, all above the age of twenty, for Wylis spared the young ones with a bright future ahead. 

The entire Stoney Sept seemed far too willing. And over the past few days, Wylis had tested all boundaries. Hence, now such madness unfolded. 

"Unnnngh… S-Ser… Ah, aaaah!"

Anna's tongue lolled out. 

Wylis had Anna lifted up entirely as he stood in the middle of the room. Her back was pressed against his chest, and both his beefy, mighty arms had her in a grip from underneath her spread legs. Folded so high, he reached for her head and grabbed that as well, pulling a full nelson whilst standing. 

"Aaaaaah!"

He fucked her like a lovely ragdoll, and fuck, she took him so well. Her cunt was a tight squeeze, and he battered her with no hesitation. He'd done that with every woman in that room. That was what they all desired. After all, why else would they lie with a giant like him? 

"Ugh! Fuck, I'm close, Anna!" Wylis declared, throwing her up and down on his long, fat shaft. With ease, he maneuvered her light body. Her pussy lips puckered out when he raised her up, caved in when he threw her down; the stretch was unimaginable.

"Mmmmmh!" Anna, her entire body locked in position by his firm grip, her head dangled forward, and her spit dribbled from her mouth. She felt ripped apart, stretched impossibly, her womb thrashed in preparation to be bred. And she loved every fucking second of it. A thrill beyond anything in her life. 

She was sore. She felt impossibly red and swollen down there. And her orgasms, she'd lost count. 

Wylis grunted and noticed some of the women he'd fucked were lying sideways on the floor, head on one arm, looking at him lay waste to Anna's cunt. They giggled at Anna's reactions, eyes glued to his fat cock stretching her entrance and filling her belly with nothing but virile rod. 

"Oooooh! I… I'm!"

Anna cried out in rapture, every inch of her body trembling, every muscle struggling to tighten even more. Her belly contracted as hard as it could, pushing every nerve in her pussy against Wylis’ flesh sword. 

She plunged into that blissful release like no tomorrow, finally bursting out into a watery climax. The filth sprayed onto the floor in front of her like a fountain, burst after burst along Wylis’ rhythm. Finally, it slowed down like a lazy leaking mess onto her own gleaming skin, and cock that kept drilling into her, staining both their bodies.

"Me too."

With his declaration, Wylis poured a hearty, thick batter into her welcoming cunt. 

A strangled groan tore from his throat as the base of his cock throbbed, and he erupted. Pump after heavy pump of thick, molten cream blasted deep into Anna’s gaping cunt. His swollen tip kissed her cervix, and each pulse sent a fresh flood of cum spilling inside her, gurgling past the tight seal of her walls and slopping down his cock. 

His massive hands gripped her neck like an anchor, keeping her in place as his balls emptied, twitching uncontrollably from the aftershocks. His thighs trembled, the pleasure was blinding.

Drips of cum began to spill from her stretched slit, soaking down onto his muscular thighs and puddling where their bodies met in a messy, glistening smear.

“Look at that!” one of the women gasped with a giggle, high with excitement. 

Another woman crawled forward like a cat, trailing a finger along his thigh where his spill had trickled. She leaned in with a filthy smile and dragged her tongue across his leg, moaning softly as she tasted him.

“Gods, he’s everywhere,” one muttered with a laugh.

Two more joined in with peals of delighted laughter, giggling as they knelt around him, their eager hands helping to clean his thighs with little kitten licks, savoring the leftover heat and salt of his climax.

“Wait a moment, ladies,” Wylis rumbled, a little breathless.

He gently slid out of Anna’s overstretched hole with a lewd, sloppy slurp. Her cunt gaped wide, still twitching and drooling thick white strings down onto the floor. He lifted her with ease and carried her limp form to the bed, laying her on her back like a sated offering. He really liked her and had decided to take her to his castle later. Anna loved being toyed with, and he loved doing her like one.

Then he turned and took a seat on the edge of the bed, his legs parted wide. His cock still hung heavy and thick between them, glistening and wet with a mixture of nectar and seed. He was softening now, but only slightly.

The moment he spread his thighs, three women dropped to their knees in front of him with the obedience of trained sluts. They worshiped him with giggles, mouths and hands fluttering around his cock. One took the veiny shaft into her mouth and gave slow, reverent kisses along the underside. Another suckled his softening tip, savoring the lingering taste. The third licked his balls clean, nuzzling into them with a breathy moan, while her fingers massaged the mess from his thighs.

Fuck! This is insane… It's like the entire town's my… breeding ground. 

As a man, it was absolutely thrilling. Why wouldn't it? It was like a dream come true. No strings attached and infinite creampies? Who would say no to that? 

"Mmmm!"

Slurp!

Three women, the only ones still standing, were married and yet so willing. Popped his cock into their mouth, trying to make him hard again. 

He sighed, knowing it wouldn't. But he was satisfied. The one reason he didn't randomly impregnate women until now was that he didn't want to feel like an asshole. His father in his last life was one. He didn't want to sire children where he knew the child would suffer forever. That was why he only went after noble women until now. Wenda, he could control. Chataya had money. Lyanna was his wife. 

But now, this was different. It was an entire town, which was loyal to him according to the Quest reward. He could sire as many bastards as he wanted there while ensuring that the town took care of them. All he had to do was ensure his own future as a rich lord. 

And beyond that, he knew the entire town was going to be a powerhouse, exceedingly loyal to him. All of his kids were blessed thanks to Life Points, and their loyalty was unquestionable. 

"I think that's enough, ladies. Better get some sleep. I must leave for Riverrun come morning."

"Umm…"

The women moaned in sadness. 

“I’ll be back before long. Might even turn it into a tradition,” Wylis said, sliding back onto the bed next to Anna. “This place… It’s starting to feel like home.”

The women giggled and rushed to lie next to him. A daring one even got on top. 

Wylis didn't refuse. He rather liked that warmth. Their soft tits against his body. Their moaning breaths. He felt like a king. 

Ting!

[Name: Anna
Age: 22
Occupation: Smallfolk
Current Loyalty: 100%
Status: Impregnated]

That was the eleventh ping. Eleven children were sired in that single town in just three nights. But of course, Wylis only counted that as ten because he had spent one whole year buying something before the beginning of the grand orgy. 

[Sexual Disease Immunity - 1 Year]

What a bountiful week. 

Ting!

Hmm?

[Tyrant's Bastard Detected!]

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

[Son(Bastard) - Genna Lannister
Life Points Available - 10]

[Strength - 2/10
Dexterity - 2/10
Intelligence - 4/10
Charisma - 2/10
Vitality - 2/10]

What?!" Wylis exclaimed in silence. 

The numbers that flashed before him left him speechless. He had a general idea that he'd get Genna's notification soon, but the babe coming out so powerful was a different thing. It made no sense if ten was considered peak for a person. 

His son had come out of Genna with four Life Points in intelligence to begin with and two in all others. If that wasn't a massive blessing, then he didn't know what was. 

I guess… Tywin just found his successor. 

And the fact that the babe would be loyal to him made it even better. 

Before sleeping, he quietly allotted the Life Points.

[Son(Bastard) - Genna Lannister
Life Points Available - 0]

[Strength - 2+2/10
Dexterity - 2+1/10
Intelligence - 4+3/10
Charisma - 2+2/10
Vitality - 2+2/10]

He made it decently rounded with more focus on intelligence. That was what Tywin would expect from his blood. Hopefully, the kid will start speaking, reading, and writing very soon. 

Ting!

What now?

[Cersei Lannister Lust - 50%]

Hah? That's a ten percent jump. Why? I didn't even meet her. 

Of all the women, it was correct to say that Cersei confused him the most. The woman could be begging for his cock one moment and in the next moment, begging her own brother’s. She could be seething to kill someone and then be jumping on his cock next. 

Cersei Lannister wasn't a danger. But the fact that she believed she was clever made her dangerous. 

Ugh… I guess she'll be getting a giant soon enough. Just not me. 

With that, he shut his eyes for a good sleep. The Battle of the Trident was coming.

####

Riverrun, Riverlands,

The seat of Lord Hoster Tully. The castle was not the biggest, far smaller than Harrenhal, but it had elligence. Made of red sandstone walls, with plenty of battlements and its towers, combined, made it a worthy stronghold. 

And that night, a feast was taking place. Hoster Tully's two daughters were getting married. One of them was luckier than the other. Catelyn Stark was to wed Eddard Stark of Winterfell, once promised to Brandon Stark. And Lysa Tully was to wed Lord Jon Arryn of Vale, an old man already. 

"I would have wed my daughter Lysa to you, Ser Wylis, if not for my promise to Lord Arryn first." Lord Hoster Tully said while he stood beside Wylis as his two daughters swore their vows before a Septon. 

Ever since Wylis saved Hoster in Stoney Sept, Hoster had become fascinated with Wylis, his strength, his manners, and his prowess in battle. Having seen Wylis fight and win against six knights all alone, it was a reasonable reaction. 

I'd fuck her, but marriage? I'll pass.

Wylis just smiled, watching the two sisters standing before their husbands. Honestly, he had to say, Catelyn was amongst the most beautiful women he'd seen north of King's Landing. She had charming, high cheekbones, fair skin, with thick auburn hair and deep blue eyes. And the best part, just at eighteen, she had an ample, heavy bosom. Ned was a lucky man; he could see that. 

In comparison, Lysa was also pretty. Pretty enough that he'd consider doing her just for her looks. But other than her looks, everything else was rotten. Moreover, she'd soon lose that beauty as well. 

“Lord Arryn’s need for a wife outweighs mine, my Lord,” Wylis said with a faint smile. “At his age, it's best to sow as quickly as one can.”

"Ha! Aye, that’s true enough." Lord Hoster chuckled. "Ser Wylis, I had heard tales of you before, and I judged wrong. A man your size, folks reckon you’re just a big brute swinging a sword without thought. But by the Seven, I was mistaken. Watching you take down Connington and his men, that was a sight I won’t soon forget."

"I did as was my duty, my Lord," Wylis said, acting modest.

"Aye, duty binds us all. Still... you saved my life. That’s not a thing I forget. I could not give you my daughter, no. Yet my debt remains. If ever you’re in want, and I’ve strength left to help, ask it of me."

Hearing him, a certain town flashed in Wylis' thoughts. Of course, he had no desire to be its ruler, but other things could be claimed. Such as a trade monopoly. It was the best way to go about it since he already had the womb monopoly there. 

Hah! Womb monopoly? Fuck, Tyrant's Squire is corrupting me. 

"I'll remember that, my Lord."

Clap! Clap!

Finally, the exchange of vows was complete. There was no kiss between the couple since there was no love involved. It was a purely political marriage to secure Lord Hoster's full support in the Rebellion. Catelyn, once smitten by Brandon Stark, had to settle for the younger brother. Lysa, in love with Petyr Baelish, had to settle for the old Lord Jon Arryn.

I'm a lucky man. Wylis thought of Lyanna, the woman he dearly loved and proudly lusted after. 

"More ale here!"

"Meat!"

Knights and lords filled the Great Hall of Riverrun, where the feast officially began. Wylis had been given a seat at the main table. 

Right in the middle was Lord Hoster, on his left was Catelyn, then Eddard, and finally Wylis. On his right were Lysa, Jon Arryn, wounded Robert, and Edmure.

Before them, the large hall was filled with rows of tables. Men and women ate there while servants frantically ran around. 

Of course, Wylis was also wolfing down on the fine cuisine. Feasts were occasions when the best food was cooked. Even the common taverns didn't cook things this nice. With so much butter, so much fine wine. 

Umm… Can't wait to be a lord and get invited to every damn wedding in Westeros. 

"Ser Wylis…"

"Hm?" He looked to his right, at Eddard. 

Eddard leaned sideways towards Wylis and spoke in a hushed, hesitant tone. "There is a matter I must ask of you."

Oh? The honorable Eddard Stark asking me for help? Wylis was all ears. 

"If it’s within my power, I’ll see it done."

"You are the only one I can ask. The rest have had too much wine and too little sense," Eddard replied, and lowered his voice more. "Spare Catelyn the shame of that wretched ceremony. She’s no prize to be paraded."

Oh? 

Wylis’ face turned abruptly, some drunk, asleep thoughts in his head fired up. His eyes gazed on Catelyn's lovely face. He'd forgotten about the bedding ceremony. 

I could get a nice view of her nude beauty—Or not? 

The custom of bedding in Westeros was crass. After the feast, the bride was to be carried by the male guests while undressing her to complete nudity, all the while making lewd, bawdy jokes about sex. Wylis was sure a lot of groping took place in those moments. He really couldn't see how it could be comfortable for any woman. 

Likewise, men got the same done to them by women. The couple would be left alone only when they're bundled in bed. And even after that, the guests would wait outside the bridal chamber, shouting lewd suggestions. 

Ah! These men.

He glanced at a few men in the hall. Jory Cassell, who was going to tear her gown in haste. Desmond Grell, who'd make jokes. And Lord Dustin, the madman who'd personally tell Eddard about his disappointment of being weaned after seeing Castelyn's breasts. 

But he couldn't refuse Eddard. Refusing would mean he was like those crass men. Besides, another wicked, but fun thought arose in his head. 

"Very well. I’ll make sure her honor remains intact." Wylis promised. 

"Thank you."

After that, Eddard didn't speak with him again. Like normal, the feast resumed. Slowly, the plates started to turn empty. The wine jars began to run out after multiple refills. 

"Bedding!"

"Bedding!"

"Bedding!"

Soon enough, the men and women started to form a crowd. Lord Hoster had already left, not wanting to see his daughters nude. Most of the older folks had left. The women strode towards Eddard's side. 

Men rushed towards Catelyn, grinning, drunk. They were all knights and lords, all towering over Catelyn. 

How the fuck did this custom survive this long? Wylis wondered. 

He could see himself being surrounded by women, snatching his clothes, and talking about his cock. But as a man, he couldn't think of Lyanna being treated like that. Her clothes torn apart by drunk, large men, and her body fondled. His blade would meet a lot of napes if that happened. 

Time to keep that promise. 

Eddard was dragged away. The men were delaying Catelyn. Clearly, they wanted to at least savor the sight. 

Rip~

As expected, Jory Cassell removed Catelyn's cloak first and tried to tear apart her wedding gown. The dress was light grey and alluringly clung to her large bust and slim waist. She was taller than most women, probably five-six, Wylis guessed. Still too short for him. 

Rip~

Holy! They have no patience! 

Wylis rushed quickly, seeing how Jory just tore her gown apart from the neck area, ripping it sideways wide till her waist, leaving her entire bust brazenly exposed to all eyes. And Wylis seriously struggled not to look at her jiggling, honey-soft, pink-tipped, heavy breasts. She was fucking gorgeous. 

He could imagine every man there salivating and feeling jealous of Ned. He could because he was one of them. But still, he wasn’t insane like them.

"Enough of this." Wylis strode through the crowd of men, easily overpowering them, pushing them aside. He got to the front, shoved Jory aside, and stood right in front of Catelyn Tully—No, Catelyn Stark. 

"Let’s not keep Lord Stark waiting." Wylis declared and reached for her. 

Catelyn shrank her neck, as if scared. He did cast a shadow over her, forcing her to look up just to glance at his face. When his hand reached for her, she fully expected it to tear apart whatever was left of her modesty. 

Woosh!

But what happened was entirely unexpected. She found herself scooped off the ground and lifted up like a princess. His warm, muscular arms felt like cushions, one wrapped around her back, the other rounded underneath her knees, his wide palm resting on the outer side, near her hip. 

She gulped and looked up at his face. And he looked back at her. But then she saw his eyes look lower. 

Fuck! Wylis cursed. 

Even while she was horizontal, her breasts hadn't flattened. They were still round, still youthful. So exquisite, creamy, and the button-like pink nipple and small areola were like the most beguiling tease. She was just eighteen, Wylis found it hard to believe. She was built to be bred… as fucked as it was, he felt he could tell that fact the best. 

But then Catelyn quickly wrapped her arms around her breasts, hiding them. 

He smiled warmly. "I apologize, my Lady. Couldn't help admiring a sculpture so ravishing. Nothing to worry about now. No one will undress you but your fated husband. We're not savages."

"Thank you, Ser Wylis," Catelyn replied, feeling warm all over her body and face. He was so massive that she felt blanketed by his sheer shadow. His chest, wide, was firmly pressed against her side. She could feel the heavy thumps of his heartbeat. 

"Oh, you know my name?" He asked playfully, giving her a big smile. 

Catelyn blushed. "It would be a crime not to know you, Ser."

"Oh?" he said, brow arched with playful gravity. "Then I'm honored that a fair lady like you hasn't committed such a crime." 

At that, he squeezed his arms around her harder, pressing her against his chest. 

Catelyn blushed even more, feeling her face burning. 

“I imagine it’s got to be a bit nerve-wracking.” He changed the topic suddenly, showing a hint of maturity. They were around the same age, after all, and he reckoned she'd be impressed by someone who had not just the size and flirt, but also the mind. “To wed in times of war is no small thing. You are brave, my Lady. And it must make you anxious, as Lord Stark must answer the call. But mark my words, victory is ours to claim."

Catelyn Stark sighed, staring at Wylis' face the entire time as he carried her. She hated it, not him, but her own heart and mind. She knew that comparison was the thief of joy, and yet she couldn't stop comparing him. 

She gulped, feeling his wide, masculine hands on her hips and face. Her face grew red with heat. It was so wrong. But she couldn't stop comparing him to Ned, and… he was by far the most handsome man she'd seen in her life. Even more so than Brandon, with whom she'd once dreamt of building a life. 

But soon enough, she brought herself back to reality. She was a married woman now. Lady Stark of Winterfell. Having thoughts like such was one thing, but to act on them—it was forbidden. She reminded herself of that.

"I hope so, Ser," she replied.

"Hope? My Lady, I do not believe in hope. If I did, I'd still be a nameless boy shoveling muck in stables. I take what I desire with my own hands." His grip tightened on her ass. But it was just an instinct, not an indication. "King Aerys—He's wronged me. The reward he put on my head. I'll have his head—I'll take Rhaegar's head too."

"You're… ambitious." She remarked, not believing him. 

Wylis looked down, eyes serious, gleaming with confidence and something more mixed. His firm arms made her feel things. "Men who lack ambition live a life of regrets, my Lady. I desire no such thing. How about this? Let's make a bet."

"A bet?"

"Aye. I'll take Rhaegar and the Mad King's head with my own hands. And…" He pondered for a moment before looking at her stunning face. "A kiss—I'll earn a kiss from the most beautiful maiden in all of the North. Of course, you wouldn't be a maiden then, perhaps even a mother by then."

Catelyn found herself chuckling at his suggestion, and then the awkward reaction that followed. She could imagine getting angry if it were someone else. Yet, in that moment, looking at his face, she found herself nodding. 

"Very well. What shall I earn?"

"Hmm. A favor?" he said. "Anything you want, I'll grant it."

Catelyn nodded to that. A favor meant a lot in Westeros. Especially amongst nobles of honorable houses. And having someone owe you a favor without knowing what it would be, it was a great thing to have.

Ting!

[New Side Quest - God of Kiss
Description - Kiss Catelyn Stark for one whole minute.
Reward - Catelyn Stark's loyalty.]

Oh? 

Wylis's brows rose. The quest sounded exciting, but the reward didn't make sense. Knowing how dutiful Catelyn was, it made no sense that he'd kiss her and earn her loyalty. It should've been the opposite instead. 

Could it be? 

He remembered the reward he received for earning Lyanna's hundred percent loyalty. It said that all Starks are now genetically fearful and fond of his blood. 

Does that include an outsider like Catelyn?

Nonetheless, he was interested in the Quest now. It was a scummy move for sure, going after Lord Stark's wife, but it wasn't as if he was planning on breeding her. If anything, he was actively not going to do that. 

Not unless there was no Lord Stark in the grand scheme of things. Or if Lord Stark did something against him, enough to earn his ire.

"We're here." Wylis finally walked through the doors of the bridal chamber. It was already filled with women, teasing Eddard while the poor man lay naked on the bed. 

"Oh my!" 

The women then started teasing Wylis. 

He, being the guy he was, winked back at them and gently placed Catelyn on the bed. He gave Lord Stark a nod, and received one back. Before he left, though, he gave a glance downward. 

Damn! No wonder they made a big brood. But nowhere near my size. 

A game as ancient as mankind. And Wylis was only human, after all. He, too, compared dick sizes, and once again, he was victorious by a large margin. 

"They're yours, my ladies," Wylis told the women there and walked out of the bridal chamber. Soon, he heard loud giggles from behind, and then the sound of clothes tearing. He'd promised to save Catelyn from the men, but not the women. 

Ugh, I'm hard. He pulled his breeches over his groin annoyedly.

Although he didn't get to see her breasts for long, just holding her soft body, and looking at her gorgeous face was enough to leave him harder than his sword. He really missed Lyanna in such moments. 

"I need a drink."

Instead of the Great Hall, Wylis walked over to a smaller hall where the wine was supposed to flow the entire night. The hall was only accessible by Lords and named, famous Knights. Basically, men. 

And as soon as Wylis walked in, the reason was understandable. 

"Ah, ah… oooooh!" 

"Mmmmmmh!"

Plap! Plap!

The small hall was nothing but a chamber for lords and knights to spill some of their pent-up need out. There weren't many, however. Most nobles were married and feared destroying their marriages. But there were still many with no wives or already destroyed marriages. 

It was like a whorehouse, and there were actual whores working there, brought in from the nearby town. 

But other than whores, the female servants of the castle also worked around. Not all of them, of course, but for any woman who wanted to earn some coin, it was the best time. Wealthy nobles were the best customers. And in case they got pregnant, their bastard would receive some sort of aid.

"There he is! The protector of the maiden's honor!" Robert roared from the corner. The man couldn't even walk, and there he was fucking, or rather fucked. Robert was lying flat on top of a table, and a busty, red-headed woman was riding him. 

Hmm… Red hair, large tits. At least try to be fucking subtle, Robert. 

Wylis chuckled at the choice of whore by Robert. In fact, he realized that a lot of red-headed whores there were occupied, some even handling two men at once. It appeared, Catelyn left a mark in their minds. 

Sighing, he walked past a few women getting fucked from behind, some thrown flat on the table on their back, handling one with their cunt and one with their mouth. It was mostly Northern men who were the wildest, however. The Riverlands nobles were mostly getting head or letting the women ride them. 

Am I seeing a pattern here? He chuckled and took a seat on the bench near Robert's table. He'd seen the future King fuck whores in Stoney Sept plenty, so nothing surprised him anymore. 

"Wine, Ser?" 

Right then, a castle maid offered him wine, a cup in one of her hands and a jar in the other. 

Wylis looked at her face, probably in her late thirties or early forties, with some faint age lines visible around the eyes. But other than that, he found her rather pleasing to look at. Blue eyes, black hair tied in a loose bun, pale pink lips, not that full. She was on the healthier side, but not fat. 

"Not offering other… assistance?" He asked while taking the cup.

She smiled, and it was beautiful. "I'm a mother of two, Ser. Far older than the young ladies around me."

"But you probably volunteered for this work, didn't you?"

"Aye, I did. Coin's coin, ain't it? Last time a kind Ser took a liking, so I thought, why not try again?"

“Fortune favors us both, it seems.” Wylis placed his cup on the side and unfastened his breeches, shamelessly dangling his throbbing, profusely hardened cock, the aftermath that Catelyn left. "But I'll only need the touch of your beautiful lips and tits. I’ll pay in full, as though we shared a full night’s tale. What say you?”

The woman looked at his fat cock with doubt. It was the largest she'd seen in her life, veiny, bulging, moving like it had a heart of its own. She gulped and pursed her lips. 

"Ah, just take him, woman!" Robert groaned from the side, letting the red-haired woman move on top of him while he mauled her breasts with his hands. "Wylis is too soft. Never seen him fuck a woman like he means it—Still green."

Wylis chuckled. Robert couldn't be more wrong. If anything, Wylis fucked like a beast.

If only you'd seen me in Stoney Sept, Robert. 

"I… I'll do it, Ser." The woman finally took to her knees and pushed the wide neck of her maid's gown off her shoulders. She pulled her arms out and bared her naked breasts. They sagged, and the mark of motherhood was visible. But they were still beautiful, full, with tight light brown tips. 

"Do it at your own pace," Wylis said, and just relaxed back, drinking wine. "And what's your name?"

"Joanna, Ser."

Hmm… Joanna. Wylis gave half a chuckle, remembering it was Lord Tywin's dead wife's name. She was said to be a beauty as well.

"I'm Wylis of Winterfell."

"Hehe…" She giggled while wrapping her breasts around his cock. "The whole realm knows, Ser."

That did make Wylis smile fondly. No doubt, he was going to tip her generously. 

Joanna pressed her soft breasts around his length, squishing them together with both arms. They were warm and full, her skin plush and smooth, with just the faintest jiggle as she adjusted her grip. The dark tips of her nipples peeked out from the squeezed mounds, stiff like buttons to sin, brushing against his shaft with every slow grind. 

Her cleavage formed a perfect tunnel of flesh, warm with lust. His cock looked monstrous between her swells, too thick, too long. The bulbous tip jutted out at the top, fat and glistening with a bead of precum already drooling down from the slit.

Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and took the head between her lips. “Mmhh…”

She suckled on him like it was candy, her mouth warm and slick, tongue circling the crown while her tits gently massaged the shaft. She started to move slowly, pushing her chest up and down with a careful rhythm, all while keeping her lips locked around his tip.

“That’s right…” Wylis let out a quiet groan. He widened his legs even more, spreading himself open, and leaned further back against the table, goblet still in hand. “Add some spit.”

Joanna obeyed instantly. She pulled off with a wet pop, and spat a thick, gleaming string of saliva right onto his tip. Then another. She leaned in and licked it up with long, dragging strokes of her tongue, letting it dribble down into her hot valley.

Wylis groaned again, closing his eyes briefly as her tits returned to work. His cock throbbed between her breasts as she squeezed tighter, letting her spit-covered skin glide with every pump. The slick made it easier, filthier, slurps and suckles mingling with the moans of other women being fucked nearby.

“Deeper…” he ordered.

She dipped down, sinking his cockhead deeper into her mouth as she kept her breasts pressed together, fucking him with both tits and throat. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, drool leaking down the corners of her mouth, pooling at the base of his shaft.

“Almost there,” he murmured, lazily swirling his wine before taking another sip. His balls tightened slightly beneath her chin, pulsing with heat.

Joanna kept at it, obedient, focused, servicing his cock like a prized sword being polished. Her tongue fluttered over his slit, and she moaned softly as if she loved the taste of him, the smell of sweat and musk from between his thighs.

Wylis looked around the room briefly. Other knights and lords were enjoying their whores, their lovers. Bodies lay strewn about in various states of undress, some riding, some being ridden, others simply watching, fingers buried between their own legs.

And Wylis… relaxed. His cock buried in a mother’s cleavage, her mouth lovingly worshiping his tip, her breasts sliding and slapping wetly around his length… Fuck, it was good.

Wasn't that world the same? Wylis thought about his previous life at that moment. While such a gathering was normal in Westeros, he remembered it wasn't much different in his last life either. 

Having been a multi-billionaire, he'd seen plenty of things in life. While he'd only heard about the worst kind, he'd attended the casual ones. Club parties where waitresses walked around topless, and some hooker getting drilled in the VIP section. Of course, he never did that, far too occupied with his knight and lords dreams. 

The dream's a reality… now.

"Uhhh… You're great at this, Joanna." Wylis eyed her bobbing head, her bun was undone, leaving her dark, long hair tossing around. 

Gluk! Gluk!

She seemed to be trying her best to take him as deep as she could. While it was possible, he knew it'd require his hand and a little more push. But he didn't do that. 

“Just use your mouth now,” he said, commanding.

Joanna pulled back with a breathless gasp, thick strings of spit snapping between her lips and his cock. Her hands moved, one wrapped around his shaft, stroking him with a twisting motion. The other hand cradled his balls gently, fingers fondling the heavy sack, making him twitch from the tenderness.

She lowered her head again, licking him like a whore savoring her favorite dessert. Her tongue dragged up his shaft from base to tip, flattening along the underside, tasting every vein and ridge. She kissed around the swollen head, lapping at it like he was the sweetest thing she’d ever had. Then she swallowed him again, just the tip, sucking hard with thick, slurping pulls.

“Must be getting dry in the mouth,” Wylis murmured. “Here… use this.”

He raised his wine goblet and tilted it forward, pouring a splash of dark red wine onto the bulbous crown of his cock.

The liquid spilled down over his shaft in slow rivulets, pooling around the base, clinging to the veins, mixing with spit and precum into a sticky, intoxicating mess.

Slurrrrp Slurrrrp

“Ummm…” Joanna moaned loudly as she lapped it up, sucking the wine from his cock with wild hunger. Her tongue flicked and swirled, mouth full of warmth and wine, cheeks hollowing as she slurped like a thirsty animal. The scent was thick, wine, sweat, cum clung to the air around them.

"Seven! I'll try that next time!" Robert commented from the side. 

It was pure debauchery in that hall.

“Mmmmmh~” Joanna moaned deeply, her mouth gliding back down his cock.

She wasn’t even kneeling anymore. She’d shifted into a squat, thighs parted, dress bunched up around her hips, her whole body rocking in rhythm as she fucked her own face. Her bare breasts bounced with each jolt, and drool streamed down her chin. Her throat tensed around him with every push forward.

Gluk! Gluk! Slurrrrp!

"Ugh… close!" Wylis’ fingers grabbed onto the edge of the table behind him. He didn’t grip her hair. He didn’t need to. The pleasure was barreling toward its peak like a beast on the run.

“Mmmmmm!” Joanna hummed in anticipation, her lips sealing tightly around his tip again. She bobbed just enough to get his cockhead and a few inches in, sucking hard, mouth wide open.

Then he came.

“Ghk!” she gagged, coughed, eyes wide as his first pulse exploded against the back of her throat.

The blast was hot, thick, potent, and heavy. Pure masculine filth forced into her mouth. She swallowed hard, but the second spurt came too fast. Then the third. It gushed out around her lips, leaking from her nose, overflowing from her mouth as she struggled to keep up. His cum mixed with the wine, forming a creamy, pungent slurry that ran down his cock and her chin in globs.

It was a pure mess. She sucked through it, face drenched, lips locked around his crown like she was addicted to it. His seed coated every corner of her mouth, pooled beneath her tongue, and clung to her teeth. She moaned around him, the vibrations making him twitch, his cock pulsing continuously.

Joanna cleaned him slowly, her tongue still working its magic.

She circled the swollen head and licked around the base. She wrapped her lips around the shaft, pulling off with audible slurps as if unwilling to waste even a drop. She dragged her tongue down the length of his cock. Spit, cum, and wine dripping from her fair chin, trailing down onto her naked chest.

Finally, she pulled her face away, eyes glassy, lips swollen and raw from the work.

She brought up the sleeve of her own gown and wiped him gently, slowly drying the mess with a tender touch. Then she wiped her own mouth, smearing the mixture of cum and wine across her cheek without a care.

"You were wonderful, Joanna." Wylis said, and took out three silver coins. They were Moons, not Stags. Thirty Moons made one Gold Dragon. Her service was not even worth a silver Stag, going by the common rate amongst back alley whores. But he still gave it. 

Smallfolks like her were the reason why his name and fame was growing. And her being a castle maid, her words would often reach men of influence. 

"This…" Joanna took the coins after fixing her gown. "You have as big a heart as a body, good Ser." 

"And your tongue is as lovely as your mouth." He jestingly said and got up, fixing his breeches. "I'm off to sleep. You should too, Robert."

"Bah! Not yet! Gods, I saw the other redhead, finer than this one by half. Fuck, I should’ve had her first—Ah!" Robert felt the current whore ride harder in anger. "Jory’s got her now. If you see him, tell him I’ll trade a bottle of Arbor Gold for her."

"..."

True, even if debaucherous, I'm still better than him. 

Sighing, Wylis walked away. He could understand why Robert was like this. Young, a mighty Lord Paramount with no wife to hound him. In fact, Robert could live without his hammer for a few months, but not without shoving his cock in a warm cunt.

He saw Jory on the way out, but the man was balls deep in the redhead. Wylis chose to let the man live out his fantasy and left the hall. He walked to his assigned bedchamber, being an honored guest and Hostor's savior, it was a big room.

Soon, he removed all his clothes except for breeches and lay down on the bed. As always, it was too small for him. His feet dangled off the lower edge. 

But he was used to it and closed his eyes. As most nights, he thought about Lyanna. How was she doing in Old Town. If she was alright. 

Can't wait for all this to end. 

####

King's Landing, Red Keep,

“Dead, dead, dead, all of them falling like flies! Incompetent fools! What am I raising? A curse on my name, a blot on my house! How dare they! How dare they!" King Aerys roared in fury, his anger no longer able to be controlled. "Lord Qarlton Chelsted! You’re the new Hand! And Rhaegar... my son!"

"Father, I am here now." Rhaegar was finally present in the court, his eyes wide, pupils blown out. "Grant me the command. I will take the field."

"Take them! Take every last wretch! Spill their blood for me! Their heads, yes, I want their heads on spikes! All of them... all but the giant. The giant is mine. My beast. My champion. I should have broken him, yes, shackled him in the black cells where only the rats remember. Go now, Rhaegar, my jewel, my flame. I have summoned Dorne. Dorne obeys. Go and burn them. Burn them all for me. Show them what the dragon remembers!"

"..."

There was silence in the hall.

"I will, Father." The Prince bowed his head and turned, placing his scarf back around his neck. It reached all the way till his nose, hiding his mouth that lacked three front teeth, now replaced with silver. But he despised looking at himself now, or anyone looking at him. 

Rhaegar didn't get far from the throne room, however. As soon as he was out, he turned around and stared at Ser Barristan. The prince no longer had the gentle smile that usually covered his face. 

"You must know something, don’t you?" Rhaegar said. "You must know what happened. You have to... I need to hear it."

Ser Barristan was confused. "I don't know what you're asking, Your Grace."

“Ser Gerold! Ser Dayne! Where have they gone? I sent them to keep Lyanna safe. Where? Tell me! Where are they?” His voice cracked as he shoved the Kingsguard back against the cold wall. “Where is my Lyanna? Did they turn against me? Did they betray me?”

Ser Barristan frowned, finding a rare glint in Rhaegar's eyes that he'd only ever seen in King Aerys. "I… I have no idea, Your Grace. I've been in King's Landing all this time. I saw Ser Gerold right when you sent them away."

"Where... where are they? My Lyanna, s-she… she… she'll give me the third. The dragon. The third head. She must. Ser Barristan, she can't be dead. She can't."

Thud!

Rhaegar fell to his knees, against Ser Barristan's legs, breaking out in rambling. 

"She... she was the one. I know it now. The dreams—they showed me. Her face, over and over. She was the key, the mother of the prince that was promised. I saw her in the flames. I felt it." Prince Rhaegar murmured. "I went there. I saw what was left. Fire... smoke... bones everywhere. They turned their backs. Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur... they said they believed, but they left me."

Ser Barristan swallowed a hard breath, trying to piece it all together. He tried to lift the prince by his shoulders. "I… I didn't know that you and Lady Lyanna were lovers."

"Lovers?" Rhaegar jumped to his feet and glared at Ser Barristan. "Lovers… that’s what we were meant to be. She was promised to me by fate. And still, she refused. She dared refuse me. I loved her—loved her with everything. How could she deny?"

"Then… you abducted her?" Ser Barristan asked hesitantly.

"I had to... I had to, don’t you see? It was the prophecy. The prince that was promised. But... It's all dust now. She’s gone. Just... ashes. And the Lannisters. Gods! The Lannisters did this!" Rhaegar declared and took out a torn piece of cloth from his pocket. "See it... Look at it. Black dogs. Their sigil. House Clegane. Lannister’s beasts. They were there. I know it. They burned the tower. They burned it all. The Tower of Joy... and Lyanna... my Lyanna... they killed her."

"..."

Ser Barristan was speechless at that point. He didn't know what to believe and what not to. The prince really abducted Lyanna. That meant the burning of Lord Stark was an injustice by the King. And now, the Lannisters killing Lyanna. 

"My Prince… We must end the rebellion first."

"Yes... yes, Ser Barristan. The rebellion must die first. And then... then the lions. I’ll tear them out, root and fang."

"..."

The famed Kingsguard merely nodded to that. He lacked the words to respond. How a promising young man could turn so wicked so fast, he saw it firsthand. 

The more Rhaegar spoke, the harder it became to tell if it was the prince or the King. 

####

Riverlands,

Joanna, the maid with the fantastic mouth, was right. Wylis was no longer a nobody. His name had spread far and wide through countless ravens exchanged between noble houses. Wylis was no longer a nameless muck-shoveling stableboy. 

Ser Wylis of Winterfell, the Northern Wall—They called him that. 

Wylis didn't like that name. He wanted to be called the Northern Tyrant, as he reckoned the Tyrant's Squire would be happy. But again, he was nowhere near the status of a Tyrant, so it made sense. Besides, they called him the Northern Wall because nobody was able to pass him yet. Wylis had won every single battle. 

Over the weeks and months, there had been many more skirmishes throughout the Riverlands, thanks to a few Targaryen loyalists in the Riverlands and the Vale. And Wylis willingly went out with Stormlands’ men to fight. 

Each time, he returned victorious with the severed head of the enemy commander. His name and his fame grew exponentially amongst the men. And through men, it spread far and wide. 

Still, that didn't mean his road was smooth. Nearly fifteen assassination attempts were made on his life, more than any other man in the army. Usually, the ones who attacked Wylis were from their own army. They were enticed by the prospect of earning a million gold Dragons from the Mad King if they killed Wylis. 

That was the annoying part. King Aerys still hadn't taken back the bounty. 

But that was all in the past. 

After a month of being stationed at the Inn of the Kneeling Man and defeating the loyalist forces that tried to attack Riverrun, Wylis was called back to Riverrun for a gathering of all rebelling lords. While not a lord, Wylis was highly valued as a commander by then, since he practically replaced Robert while the man was injured. 

"Ser Wylis." 

"My Lady." Wylis greeted Catelyn Stark, the woman glowing with whatever the hell Eddard was doing to her. 

"They're waiting for you," she said and walked away. 

Wylis shrugged and knocked on Lord Hoster's solar's door. "It's Wylis."

"Come in."

He pushed the door open. It was a simple, clean study for official work. Elegantly decorated with books and ornaments. But none of that mattered. Four men occupied the room. Robert sat in the larger chair, Eddard stood beside Robert, while Lord Hoster and Lord Jon Arryn sat in the two available seats. 

What's going on here? 

"Come here, lad." Jon Arryn gestured to him. 

"Did something happen?" Wylis asked as he closed the door and walked beside the table. He noticed a book on the table and connected some dots. 

“We are trying to bring the lords together for this fight,” Lord Hoster explained. “They scatter now, each making their own camp. We must end that.”

"I've noticed that," Wylis said.

"Why? You have an idea?" Lord Hoster asked, for whatever reason.

Wylis hummed and acted like thinking. Then, acting perfectly like he had a eureka moment, he stared at Robert's face. "Let me think… If I recall correctly, this stag's got wings, no? A third Targaryen, if memory serves. Wouldn't that give Robert a rightful claim to the throne?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

The room fell into silence. They all stared at Wylis' face like they had just seen a ghost. That was exactly what they were discussing in that room. And somehow, Wylis had just guessed that correctly. 

"How… did you come to that conclusion?" Jon Arryn asked.

Wylis shrugged, acting as if it were the most logical thing. "My Lord, my frame may be thick, but my head isn't."

"Bahah! Gods, Wylis, you bloody rogue, that's why I keep you close!" Robert bellowed heartily and rose to his feet. He threw an arm around Wylis' shoulder, one of the few men who could, albeit he still struggled. "You're right, that's the plan. Me, the King! Can you believe it? And you, I remember you wanted to establish your own house. Well then, I’ll make it official. Tomorrow’s feast, I name you Lord."

"..."

What? 

"You would do that?" 

Wylis felt goosebumps rise on his skin. That was his dream of two lives. To become a lord. To govern a land like a real ruler. To manage that land and make it prosper. 

"By the gods, Wylis, you’ve fought and bled in this rebellion as much as me and Ned. Maybe more! Every time we send you off, you come back swinging a bloody head. I’ve said it before and I’ll shout it again—may Lord Rickard rest easy, but he was a damned fool. Sorry, Ned. You were wasted in the cold for too long. Look at you now! A true warrior, shining in battle. You’ve earned every bit of this."

Wylis smiled, nodding. Who doesn't like praise? Being acknowledged for your hard work. Everyone liked that. But he couldn't help the unease. 

This… feels like a trap. I can feel it. Fucker's going to give me some shitty castle in Stormlands, I know it! 

"I’d like that. Always dreamed of naming a house—House Kaiser." Wylis revealed his dream openly to the four men. And seeing them agree, even Eddard, made him confident. "But not yet. Not tomorrow. I've done what I can, but it won’t still the tongues of every lord. They’ll say you show me favor because of friendship, not merit."

"Lad's right." Jon Arryn said. "Plenty speak against having him already. They care too much about lineage and blood, ignoring the merit."

"To hell with them! I'll bash their heads!" Robert declared. 

Wylis only felt bad hearing that. Robert was just like that. A bastard for sure, but as a friend, you wouldn't want anyone but him watching your back. 

"I say," Wylis smirked then, a grin that Robert had seen before. "Do it when your ass lands on the Iron Throne. In the same hall that mad cunt tried to make me a court jester."

The reason was deeper. If Robert did it tomorrow, the other lords had no obligation to accept it, as Robert had no real authority. But from the Iron Throne, nobody would refuse. Besides, by then, Wylis' merit would become undeniable.

"Hah!" Robert grinned back. “I knew you had a plan in that fat skull of yours. Aye, let’s do it. King Robert will proclaim the rise of House Kaiser for my giant friend Wylis. Seven gods, I’m already feeling grand!”

Ting!

[New Side Quest - Birth Of A Tyrant
Description - Bring the entire battlefield to a five-second standstill during the Battle of the Trident.
Reward - Battle Aura: 30% Strength boost in a battlefield.]

Oh?

"Wylis? What happened?" Lord Hoster voiced.

"Ah, nothing." Wylis shook his head and put an arm around Robert's shoulder, cheering loudly. "Let's win you a throne!"

Robert threw an arm on Eddard's shoulder and repeated the same. "Let's fucking win me the throne!"

"Aye."

"Ugh," Robert grunted. "For fucks sake, Ned. Proclaim it like me and Wylis. Your woman screams louder than you."

"..."

"Let's win you a throne, Robert!"

Robert sighed again. "Still weaker than Cat's screams."

"..."

Perhaps something broke, a vein bulged on Eddard's temple, and he ended up howling. 

"Let's win you a damn throne!"

"YEAH!"

"Let's do it!" 

Wylis was there to hype Robert up. 

Robert was enough to hype himself up. 

Lord Hoster Tully and Lord Jon Arryn just watched the three young men while smiling, imagining what the future of Westeros would look like soon.

______________________

[A/N: We're on the verge of Wylis becoming a Lord and establishing a house. I've decided Ramsgate as his seat, as it provides him with a port, direct access to Braavos, and all of the East Coast Westerosi cities, and West Coast Essosi cities. So, trade will be a massive aspect. 

I'd like to hear your ideas for what sort of businesses and industries Wylis can set up. Try to make them realistic while keeping Wylis's abilities in mind. Let's not get too ambitious, like setting up his own kingdom in Essos. Let's start with something that he can initiate, expand, and sell fast and vast, making big bucks.