When Winter Comes

Whether it was some small portion of good luck he had finally earned, or the will of the gods, Ned did not know, but Arthur had been right. There was an island on the horizon. Ned formed two paddles of ice, giving one to Arthur. They began to row their way closer to salvation. In their weakened state, they didn’t reach it until the sun was hanging low in the sky.

They stumbled from their small ice-boat, exhausted, casting long shadows over the beach. After days spent on the sea without food, their legs were less than reliable on dry land. Ned and Arthur did not want to be swept away by the rising tide as they slept, so they stumbled like newborn fauns across the sand towards the trees and grass illuminated in the dying light of the sun as it slipped into the sea.

Neither said any words when they reached the grass. They only slept.

Ned was woken silently by Arthur, who pointed to the tree above them. A particularly large albatross was grooming itself on one of the higher branches. Making for a very tempting target. A small ice spike won them their first meal in a week.

“I think I might be the first Sword of the Morning to use Dawn in this way.” Arthur said between mouthfuls of either underdone, or overdone bird meat. They had laid Dawn over a small fire of driftwood and fallen branches, cut the meat into strips and used the heated greatsword to cook their food.

“I imagine your house will forgive you.” Ned took another bite. “Given the circumstances.”

Both men gazed out over the calm sea as the sun was rising. Now that they’d been rested and managed some food, they saw that there were a number of other islands not too far from the one they were on.

Forgetting for a moment, the manner of their arrival, Ned was having difficulty finding fault with their location. Nice weather, beautiful views… It was paradise.

“Any idea where we are?” Arthur ventured.

“I thought perhaps we might in the Stepstones.” Ned answered.

Arthur shook his head. “If we were, we’d be seeing Essos to the east.” He pointed towards the sunrise, seeing only open ocean.

“Indeed.” Ned contemplated for a moment. “The warm weather tells me we’re in the Summer Sea, but we must have drifted far indeed if that was the case.”

“You think we’ve floated all the way to the Summer Isles?”

“I don’t know where we are.”

“Wherever it is, we cannot stay.”

“So we must reach higher ground.” Ned finished his bird meat and began to stand. “At least we’ll be able to see more.”

Ned’s legs were stiff and cumbersome as they began to make their way up the slope further inland. He longed for his bed and the feeling of his wives next to him. With Foesmasher in hand and Ice floating behind him, Ned forded a path through the vegetation.

The air grew thicker as they went further in, quickly becoming a dense jungle. Ned had read about jungles in Winterfell’s library, they were abundant in Essos with it’s warmer climate. Westeros generally only had woods and forests, with great old oaks reaching towards the sky. Not like this place, where the trees twisted around each other and long, grasping vines hung from every branch.

Ned found himself thinking the island was decidedly less like paradise than he had originally thought. The greenery became so dense that Arthur had to resort to cutting them a path with Dawn, another slight to the pedigree of house Dayne.

“Plants are somewhat easier to fell, than men. Perhaps I should take up gardening.” Arthur quipped, dispatching his latest green opponent with grace and poise.

“No doubt you’d be the finest hedge trimmer in the North.” Ned answered, walking behind him. Then he heard something. “Quiet.” He whispered, pulling Arthur down into a crouch. Arthur silently obeyed. The pair stayed in silence for a few moments.

Then they heard it.

Laughter.

A woman’s laughter. Coming from ahead of them, to the left.

Ned looked to Arthur for assurance that the former King’s Guard had heard the sound too, then they both made their way forward, quietly so as not to alert whoever it was. They could be salvation or damnation, but the prospect of finding help far outweighed Ned and Arthur’s pessimism.

In a few dozen heartbeats, they saw a clearing ahead, with a clear blue pool in the middle, fed by a waterfall. Taking position behind a large tree, Ned and Arthur peered into the clearing. For a moment, Ned was reminded of how he’d wandered across Sylvie bathing in the godswood pools before he went off to the Vale. It wasn’t too long after that when she made a man of him.

Ned would never admit it, but the vision he found himself confronted with was a sight far greater than Sylvie alone. Three of the most gorgeous women Ned had ever seen were bathing in the pool’s clear blue waters.

It was almost as if he had strayed into a dream.

Perhaps this is paradise after all…

The three women looked like they’d been sculpted from marble by the gods of war and beauty, with rippling muscles and abundant curves. Two of them were standing together in the centre of the water, while the other stood beneath the small waterfall.

One was pale with flaming red hair gathered in a braid that went past her arse. The second was darker than any woman Ned had met previously, a mess of jet black curls tied together on top of her head.

The third woman made the other two look like small candles next to the rising sun, a goddess made flesh as she bathed under the waterfall. Her well-tanned skin was a shade lighter than Ashara’s, perfect and rich. While all three women were exceedingly well endowed, the third woman was near a match for Cat’s mighty breasts, beating even Mellario and Arianne.

Forcing himself to focus, Ned listened to what they were saying. “She bathes like Aphrodite…” The red haired woman said, nodding towards the woman under the waterfall. “Gods, she’s killing me…”

“I thought she and Kasia…?” The dark skinned woman asked.

“And Meghara and Evrayle and Aresia…” The red haired woman seemed in awe. “I heard she had them screaming and moaning from dusk till dawn. Then sent them limping from her chambers with a kiss and a smack on the arse.”

“Probably best if we remove ourselves from this juvenile fantasy.” Ned heard Arthur whispering to him. “I doubt we’ll find much help here.”

Unfortunately, Ned could only agree with Arthur. Two armed and bedraggled men showing themselves to three women as they were bathing would likely not end in their favour. He pried his eyes away from the beautiful, nude women and they both crept back along the path they came from.

“At least we now know there are other people on the island.” Ned whispered.

“Yes.” Arthur chuckled. “Six at the very least…”

It was a few more paces before Ned heard the distinct sound of a twig snapping underfoot. Both he and Arthur froze, hoping that their presence was still unknown. One heartbeat. Two. Three…

Just when Ned let out a sigh of relief, the three warrior women they’d been watching sprang from the bushes with a war cry. All three still naked from their bathing. Ned only just managed to roll out of the way before one of them landed on him.

The woman with red hair kicked Dawn from Arthur’s hand as the dark skinned one kicked him in the stomach, sending him back several feet. So these women are strong… Ned thought as the third woman swung a glowing golden whip in his direction. He rolled out of the way and It landed with a thunderous Crack!Of magical energy.

“Don’t kill them!” Ned shouted to Arthur, who was in the process of summoning Dawn to his grasp.

“Why don’t you tell them that!” Arthur replied as he punched one of the warrior women.

Ned’s distraction cost him and he felt a warm tingling along his arm. The glowing golden rope had snaked around his limb.

“Drop the hammer!” The woman who held the rope commanded. Ned felt a sudden need to loosen his grip and let the hammer fall. He knew what was happening, magical suggestion was not an entirely foreign concept to him. Resisting the command sent a searing pain through his one good arm. “The Lasso of Truth compels you to follow my commands. So drop your hammer.” The woman ordered. Ned could not resist any longer and the hammer fell from his grasp.

A satisfied smirk spread across the woman’s features as she stood before him. She thought he was beaten. Before she could react, Ned grabbed hold of the golden rope and pulled it as hard as he could. The surprise caught the woman off balance, making her stumble forwards. Ned rushed to meet her, stretching out his arm to the side. He knocked her clear off her feet as he dashed forward, catching her under the chin with his forearm. The rope loosened, uncoiled from his arm and fell to the ground.

Ned saw Arthur was struggling against the two warrior women. One was clinging to his back, her arms and legs wrapped around him as the other landed kicks on his shins. Ned stepped towards them, hoping to aid his good-brother, but was waylaid when his own opponent flipped back to her feet in a defensive stance.

“Perhaps I underestimated you.” She chuckled. “You’re not quite as harmless as you look.”

Ned tried to duck around her, aiming for Arthur, but she kicked him flying back into the trunk of a tree. The force of the collision rattled every tooth in Ned’s mouth, making leaves fall from the branches of the tree as they shook.

With a cry, she leapt forward, fist clenched aiming to punch a hole through Ned’s chest. At the last moment, he dodged to the side and the woman took out half of a section of the tree trunk. Bark and wooden splinters exploded from the tree, the wood groaning as the tree could no longer hold up it’s own weight and fell to the earth.

Ned blocked her next fist with the back of his hand, thanking the gods that he’d learned the art of unarmed combat from the monastic druids of the North. Though that training could only go so far in the face of only having one arm and his opponent seemingly being as skilled a fighter as him, certainly as strong.

Marshalling his knowledge and experience, Ned waited for the right moment. Allowing her to attack him. Giving her time to make a mistake. Eventually he found his opening when she got too close and head-butted the beautiful woman, sending her stumbling back.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Ned huffed, breathing heavily. Days without food adrift on the sea had taken their toll on him, he wouldn’t be able to keep fighting much longer.

The woman regained her footing, eyeing him ruefully. “Then you shouldn’t have trespassed on our land.”

“We didn’t know it was your land.” Ned answered.

“Ignorance is no excuse.” She lunged at him again.

Ned was hit harder than he’d ever been hit before. Whoever these women were, they clearly had access to strong magical enhancements. Perhaps even stronger than those the Ice Guard received.

Focused on his own fight, Ned lost track of Arthur quickly. He hoped he was managing without his help. Ice and Foesmasher tugged at his perception, begging leave to be used against his foes, but Ned did not heed them. He still had hope that they didn’t have to kill their way across the island to get what they needed.

Ned tried to give as good as he got, yet he could only give so much with one hand. A heeled kick to his stomach sent him flying through another tree, pieces of wood flying everywhere as the tree fell to earth.

Even as he was fighting her, Ned could tell his opponent was nothing short of magnificent. She fought him fully nude, fighting hand to hand without shame. Her body was a finely tuned instrument meant for combat.

Quick and deadly.

A block that wasn’t fast enough lead to Ned’s nose being broken.

An overextended kick lead to a blow that felt like it near shattered his knee.

The main advantage Ned could find was that he was stronger than her, which he tried to use to his advantage as often as he could. She was also over confident, taunting him as they fought. She saw his one arm and bedraggled appearance and thought him weak.

He found a chance to prove her wrong when he gripped her by her long loose black hair, swung her over his head as she gave an undignified shriek and slammed her into the ground behind him, dazing her.

Ned carried through the motion, using the momentum to slam her into the ground in front of him, then behind again. Then again, and again, leaving craters where she landed. The ground began to shake at the repeated impacts of her body.

After the sixth time Ned slammed her into the ground, she was limp, unconscious, being held up only by Ned’s grip on her hair. He let go and she flopped face down onto the ground.

His arm aching, one eye almost swollen shut and worn out beyond belief, Ned set off to find Arthur. All he needed to do was follow the sound of the fight.

He found them quickly enough. All three combatants were bloodied and bruised, though Arthur was in a somewhat worse state. Seeing they were preoccupied, Ned used it to his advantage. He snuck up behind the red haired woman and hit her on the back of the head with all his might.

To his surprise, she fell instantly. It seemed the other two women were not only beaten by the third in beauty, but also strength. Alone against Ned and Arthur, the dark skinned warrior woman was subdued quickly.

“Well this is a fine mess…” Arthur panted as they stood over their battered opponents. “They’ll likely attack us again when they wake.”

“Then lets leave them behind.”

“They could track us.”

“Then lets tie them up and question them.” Ned said, remembering the golden rope that one of them used to bind him. They quickly got all three women together in the clearing by the pool, tying their hands and feet with the golden rope. It seemed to grow and shrink as they needed it.

“Lyanna would love this…” Arthur said as he bound the last of the women. Thankfully there seemed to be no one else around, so Ned and Arthur decided to wash themselves as they waited for the women to wake.

When they entered the waters, they both felt a strange warmth come over them. Ned saw Arthur healing before his very eyes as he washed himself in the water. He even felt his nose move back into shape as the swelling in his eye subsided. Both men stared at each other in amazement.

“Where the hell are we…” Arthur uttered in disbelief. It was certainly strange. “Have you ever heard of magic like this before?”

“No.” Ned said. “They say the waters of Winterfell have healing and fertility properties, but nothing like this.”

“Seems we need to ask our lady friends over there.” Arthur said, nodding towards the women.

“We should heal them too.” Ned said, forming a bucket of ice in his hand, he scooped up the magical healing waters and dumped it on all three of the women. They all spluttered awake quickly, straining against their binds as their wounds healed in seconds. Ned took a tight grip of the golden rope and it began to glow.

“What are your names?” Ned asked, feeling the rope humming in his hand. The three women tried to stifle their voices for a few moments as they struggled against their bonds before relenting.

“I am Artemis.” The red haired woman spoke first.

“I am Nubia.” Then the dark skinned one.

“And I am Diana.” The third woman fixed him with a steely gaze, sharp grey eyes staring up at him defiantly.

“Where are we?” Arthur asked next. None of the women responded.

“I think I have to be the one to ask them.” Ned turned back to Arthur.

“You do.” Nubia answered him.

“Then where are we?” Ned echoed Arthur.

“Ikaria, the healing island.” Diana stated, shortly.

“Are there more of you?” Ned asked.

“Yes.” Artemis replied stubbornly. Refusing to give any more than what was asked.

“How many more.”

“Tens of thousands.” Nubia answered confidently.

Ned gave Arthur a concerned look. This likely didn’t bode well for them. “Could you take us to them?”

“Yes.” Diana answered.

“Will you?”

“You would have to order us to.”

“We do not want to fight you. Please take us to the rest of your people.” The three women tried to get to their feet, not an easy thing considering their hands and feet were bound. Ned and Arthur helped them up and they began to shuffle in one direction.

“This would be easier if you loosed out ties.” Nubia said.

“If we did that, would you attack us?” Ned knew the answer.

“Yes.” Artemis replied quickly.

“Then your bonds shall remain.” Arthur said, pointing Dawn towards Artemis.

“Do you think our sisters will take kindly to you parading us naked before them?” Diana snarked as she shuffled forwards.

“We couldn’t find anything to drape you with.” Ned admitted. “And from what i’ve seen of your people, I’d rather have a hostage if they come across us.”

“You think holding us will help you?” Nubia asked.

“It may give your sisters a reason not to attack us outright.” Arthur said. “And if not, then you might prove a good distraction as we bravely run for our lives.”

Eventually the three women stopped shuffling when they stood before a stone circle protruding from the ground. The stones were covered in glyphs, with a large blue gem set into the capstone at the top of the circle. Like most things Ned had found in his short time in this enchanted place, a faint smell of magic permeated through the area.

“I don’t see the thousands of people you referred to.” Arthur said. Diana gave him a cold look that made Ned think of Lyanna for some reason.

“This is a way gate.” She said sternly, reaching out and touching a number of the glyphs. To Ned’s surprise, they began to glow blue once they felt Diana’s touch. “We use them to travel between the islands.”

“How many islands?” Ned asked, still holding the golden rope.

“Over one hundred of our islands have way gates on them.” Nubia explained. “With maybe two hundred more that don’t. We use boats to reach those islands.”

“Can these gates take us to parts of islands that are uninhabited?” Ned asked.

“Yes.” Diana answered as she manipulated the way gate stones.

“Then we want to go somewhere quiet, so we can get our bearings.” In a few moments, a swirling blue vortex formed inside the stone circle. A strong wind began to blow around the gate as magical energy crackled through the air. “You go first.” Ned ordered, making sure it was not a death trap. When the three women walked through the vortex without hesitation, Ned and Arthur followed them.

One moment Ned was by a pool surrounded by trees, the next he was standing in the middle of a marble forum with Arthur, their three captives and hundreds of other women all looking at them in surprise.

Fuck…

Ned and Arthur turned back to the gate but it was already closed, exposing them on all sides. After a few moments there were shouts and horns being blown. Moments later several dozen women all armed with shields, spears, breast plates and helmets surrounded them, pointing their spears towards Ned and Arthur.

“You were a fool to follow us.” Diana smiled over her shoulder at them. “And now you will die.”

“I told you to take us somewhere quiet.” Ned seethed.

Diana, who only laughed. “You only said you wanted it, not that we had to take you there.”

“A subtle, yet important difference.” Artemis laughed. “I will enjoy watching you bleed to death on the forum floor.”

Ned and Arthur tried to use their captives to shield themselves from the spears. Many voices were shouting at them, telling them to lay down their arms and release their prisoners. Strangely, Ned noted, he didn’t hear a single male voice among them. It seemed perhaps the island was entirely populated by women.

“Seems we’ll have to kill our way to some ships after all.” Arthur said sadly, readying himself with Dawn in hand.

Soon all the other shouting died away, leaving only one clear voice giving commands. “Lay down you arms, and you will not be harmed.” The voice rang out, powerful and melodic at the same time. Ned could almost imagine it singing a ballad.

“This one was just telling us that we’ll be dying either way.” Ned answered the woman.

“My oldest daughter is often a little too eager for violence.” The voice replied. Ned poked his head out from behind Diana, wanting to see who he was talking to. He saw a tall regal woman, beautiful, like all others who seemed to inhabit this land. She had golden hair wearing a crown and a dark purple dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Dorne. The woman wore a distinctly shocked look on her face when she locked eyes with him.

“Brandon…” He heard her whisper breathlessly with his enhanced hearing. “What are your names?” She demanded, striding towards them, confusing Ned more by the moment.

“I am Arthur Dayne.” Arthur offered first, clearly not what the woman was looking for.

“I am Eddard Stark.” Ned said as a wave of murmurs when through the crowd of women that surrounded them.

“…Stark?” Diana turned back to him in shock. Furthering Ned’s confusion, the guards who were pointing spears at him moments earlier suddenly lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in deference.

“Eddard Stark…” The blonde woman gave an easy smile as she sauntered forwards, any worry she might have felt at the situation quickly left her. “I am Hippolyta, Queen of Themyscira… Brandon might have mentioned me.”

Ned was shocked to say the least. He remembered reading tales of the Amazons of Themyscira in Winterfell’s great library when he was younger, stories one of the ancient Kings of Winter Brandon Stark ‘The Lusty Wolf’ had told when he had returned to the North after one of his many adventures.

No one had ever found Themyscira, not even the Lusty Wolf after he had left it, so in the centuries after Brandon’s death, historians had begun to doubt that it ever even existed in the first place. Yet here Ned stood, as if the story had leapt from the page and took form around him. He was talking to Hippolyta. The Hippolyta. One of the Lusty Wolf’s many wives…

“The Lusty Wolf lived… Thousands of years ago…” Ned said, releasing his hold on the golden rope that bound his hostages.

Hippolyta nodded, a sudden sadness fell on her face for a few moments. “Yes… He would be long dead by now…”

“I’m confused...” Arthur said, looking from Hippolyta to Ned. “What’s happening here?”

“A Stark king from ages past told tales of a land he had found on one of his many travels.” Ned explained. “He was called the Lusty Wolf-“

“-Well that could have been any Stark.” Arthur interrupted him with a sarcastic remark.

Ned gave him a look and continued. “He said the land was populated entirely by beautiful women with a Queen called Hippolyta, the most beautiful of them all.”

Hippolyta lightly blushed and bowed her head. “Brandon always was a flatterer.”

“If he was from thousands of years ago, how are you still alive?” Arthur asked. It was a fair question. Hippolyta would be thousands of years old, yet she looked younger than Ned.

“Time moves strangely on Themyscira.” Hippolyta answered him. “And even then, there is a magical fountain that we bathe in and drink from. It keeps us young and strong.”

“It certainly does that...” Arthur said, looking over the beautiful, muscular women that surrounded them.

Ned remembered the Lusty Wolf had written about the fountain in his books. It was difficult to believe magic that powerful existed in the mortal world. Yet it would explain why the Lusty Wolf and his wives all lived to be older than two hundred, drinking from the fountain had clearly extended their lives.

“Now that we all know who we are.” Hippolyta said. “You have my word that you will not be harmed and I would be eternally grateful to you if you would release my daughter.”

It was then that Ned realised he had beaten a Princess and was currently parading her naked in front of her people, including her own mother. He and Arthur untied Diana, Nubia and Artemis, who to their surprise made no effort to cover themselves, in spite of be surrounded by a crowd of hundreds.

“We are not so inhibited with our bodies in Themyscira.” Diana stated, seeing their confusion.

“Clearly.” Ned observed.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Eddard Stark.” Hippolyta said, walking closer to Ned. “How did you arrive here? And with my oldest daughter in this…” she gestured to Diana’s naked body. “State.”

“It’s certainly a long story…” Ned said, before he told them the tale. Of the his and Arthur’s imprisonment in King’s Landing, their escape, the shipwreck and how they happened upon Diana.

“Well that is quite a tale.” Hippolyta said when Ned was finished. “You must be tired. I will have rooms, food and baths prepared for you.”

“I would rather you explained why you would be so accommodating to us.” Arthur said. “You knew a Stark from ages past. What does that have to do with us here and now?”

“Let me show you.” Hippolyta indicated to marble stairs on the other side of the forum. She lead them all up the stairs to a beautiful white marble structure, with a roof held up my dozens of stone pillars. When they entered the hall, Ned saw a massive ornately painted wall fifteen feet tall and forty feet long.

“The Amazons of Themyscira were not always as we are now.” Hippolyta began. “The male gods of our pantheon mistreated us. They made us their whores.” She indicated to the far left of the wall, showing the Amazons as they were under their cruel gods. “They used us. And they used our daughters, and their daughters.”

“What did they do with the sons?” Ned was almost afraid to ask.

“Amazons are incapable of birthing sons.” Hippolyta answered him. “Another thing we can thank our old gods for. They told us they wanted more whores, not more rivals.”

“And how did you escape from the yoke of these cruel gods?” Arthur asked.

“Brandon...” Hippolyta pointed towards a man in the centre of the wall. Ned could tell he had the Stark look, with a long face and dark hair. “Our female gods weren’t treated much better by their male counterparts, so they made plans to depose them. It is said that they went to far off pantheons in search of one who would aid them. Your Old Gods answered. Freya and Fenric sent their champion to aid us.” Hippolyta pointed towards a large battle at the far end of the wall. “Together Starks, Amazons and gods fought against evil and vanquished it, killing all the male gods of our pantheon. The goddess Hera now presides over Themyscira’s pantheon as I preside over Themyscira.” Hippolyta finished.

“These details weren’t in the books I read in Winterfell.” Ned admitted.

“Yes, I think I know what Brandon would have written about.” Hippolyta laughed. “Come, that is depicted on the other side of the wall.” She lead them around and Ned saw… In all honesty what he expected to see. The Lusty Wolf stood in a sea of writhing bodies, all nude, all beautiful. “For his valour and his help, he was declared the first King of Themyscira. He celebrated by fucking every one of us.” Hippolyta smiled, enjoying the memories. “Goddesses and Amazons alike. He near doubled Themyscira’s population, even blessing me with my Diana, whom you have already met.” Hipployta indicated towards her daughter, who was standing beside Ned, still completely naked an unashamed. Looking at her now, Ned could recognise some Lyanna in her. It seemed the Stark seed was strong indeed.

“I can trace my lineage back to the Lusty Wolf as well. Though my family line is probably a lot longer than yours” Ned japed.

“I suppose I would be your aunt then.” Diana guessed. “Only… removed by several hundred generations...”

“You didn’t mention who the current King of Winter is when you told us what happened to you.” Hippolyta said.

“That’s another long story.” Arthur chuckled under his breath.

“Uh, times have changed somewhat since Brandon’s time.” Ned admitted. “But I am the current Stark of Starks.”

Another murmur when the the crowd of Amazons that was around them. They looked at Ned in awe, even Hippolyta seemed surprised, and just maybe a little excited.

“You are tired and hungry.” She finally said. “Eat, wash, sleep. I must have words with Themyscira’s council. We have much to discuss…”

So he and Arthur were whisked away to separate chambers where food was laid out for them and large heated baths set into the floor lay waiting. Given that all Ned had to eat recently had been poorly done Albatross cooked on the flat of a greatsword, bread, cheese and water would have looked a feast to Ned’s eyes.

Yet the food laid out for Ned would have been enough to feed a family of ten: a great seasoned pig with an apple in it’s mouth, honey glazed prawns alongside entire schools of fish, fruits and vegetables lined the table from one end to the other, with olives and figs and eggs and cheeses of all kinds.

The well-raised, well-educated, dignified, Princely Eddard Stark would like to pretend that when faced with such a meal, he would not resort to his baser instincts and instead eat in a manner befitting his station.

That did not happen.

If he were there, Rickon would have eaten that food in a more dignified manner than Ned did.

An eternity later, when Ned finally felt like he had eaten his fill, he moved from the table to the steaming bath, removing his rags as he went in. After eating his meal like a beast, Ned was in even greater need of a wash.

Ned was relaxing in the large bath, floating on his back when he heard the door open. He looked up and saw Hippolyta walking into the hall, completely nude. Ned was caught in a trance where he was both shocked and completely unsurprised.

Much like her daughter, Hippolyta had a body that was built by the gods of war and beauty. She was as toned and muscular as Diana, while also possessing divine curves and a figure that would turn men mad, with pale, creamy unblemished skin. Long, muscled legs lead up to thick thighs and a small patch of blonde curls at their junction. A tiny waist sat on wide, child-bearing hips. Her stomach was flat and corded with muscle leading up to a chest that had two huge melon-sized breasts sitting high in defiance of age and nature with small rosy nipples. Further still was one of the most beautiful faces Ned had ever seen, with elegant features, high cheekbones and dazzling blue eyes. Hippolyta still wore her crown, nestled in her golden locks, that fell loosely past her shoulders.

“I hope i’m not intruding.” She smirked, sauntering to the bath and submerging into the warm water.

“It’s your island.” Ned said, swimming over to her.

“That’s what I wished to talk to you about.” Hippolyta blushed slightly. “Brandon was the last king of Themyscira. With his passing, his titles passed to his heir and after that eventually to you…”

“What are you saying?”

“At my recommendation, the council has decreed that you are to be the new King of Themyscira, as all of Brandon’s titles pass to you. You will be crowned on the morrow.” Ned was stunned. At the beginning of the day, he lay starving on a beach. Now he was to be declared a King. “That is not all.” Hippolyta continued, moving closer to him. “I was Brandon’s wife, his Queen. As all that once once his is now yours. I will also be your wife and Queen… It’ll be my duty and privilege to serve you.” With that, she pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she pressed her naked body against his.

“I am truly flattered.” Ned said between fervent kisses. “But I have other wives and a home to go back to.”

“So did Brandon.” Hippolyta giggled. “I would very much like to meet your wives too.” Her eyes fell to the stump of his left arm. “But first… I can help you with this.”

“I don’t understand how a smith will help me with my arm.” Ned said as Hippolyta lead him towards a woman hammering an anvil. She hadn’t even let him stop to dress himself when they left the bath. In fairness, Hippolyta hadn’t dressed herself either. Together they walked through Themyscria’s marble streets in the evening with the occasional curious looks from passers by. “Korra is the best spell-smith in all of Themyscira.” Hippolyta said, not explaining anything else. “Is everything prepared?” She asked the smith, who looked up and smiled when she saw them. She was a brown skinned woman with dark hair and light blue eyes, wearing a rough spun leather apron as she hammered away at steel.

“You bet, Queenie.” Korra answered, dropping what she was working on instantly. “I’ve been heating it for over an hour and spoken all the right spells… I think…” She strutted over to a furnace that housed a basin full of molten metal. Ned was surprised to see that the leather apron was the only piece of clothing Korra was wearing. That’s one way to combat the heat of the forge, Ned mused. Using her long iron tools, she took the basin out and place it on the ground.

“Right,” Korra addressed Ned. “Stick ya stump in the molten metal and you’ll have a new arm before you can say ‘Korra, you beautiful bitch! You’ve done it again!’”

“You have a very queer manner of speech…” Was all Ned could say in the moment.

“I get that a lot.” Korra gave him a toothy grin.

Ned was still confused. “You want me to… Put my stump in molten metal…?”

“Yea.” Korra answered, blankly.

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Do you think i’m a fucking amateur?” Korra seemed offended that Ned even asked. “Honestly, all the thanks I get for making you a new arm…”

“You underestimate the magic of the Amazons.” Hippolyta turned to Ned. “This is completely safe.”

“I’m glad I didn’t vote for you to be king now…” Korra sulked, leaning on a work bench.

“You don’t vote for kings, Korra.” Hippolyta told the grumpy spell-smith.

“That’s what i’m saying! I’m glad I didn’t vote for him!”

“I apologise for any offence I caused.” Ned tried to make amends. “I am unfamiliar with your work.”

“Well you’re gonna get familiar real quick.” Korra responded. “Now stick your stump in there before the metal cools.”

This is mad, Ned thought as he knelt down to the ground and leaned over the basin. Bracing himself for the pain, he leaned down and put his stump in the glowing hot metal. To his shock, it felt like nothing of the sort. If anything, it was pleasantly warm.

“Now wait.” Korra ordered. “Let the metal coalesce...”

After a few moments, Ned began to feel a weight on his stump. Since he had lost his arm, he had often felt a phantom limb in it’s place, but it was becoming more real by the moment.

“Should be done now.” Korra said and Ned rose to his feet. “Hot damn!” Korra cried, giving Hippolyta a loud smack on the arse. “I’m good aren’t I?”

Not quite believing it looked down and saw his new arm. It was much lighter than he thought a metal arm would be. An almost fluid silvery layer covered the new limb, the light from the furnace reflecting on the polished metal like a mirror. It felt just like a normal arm when Ned moved it from through the air. He clenched and unclenched his fist, testing the dexterity of his new hand.

“This is… incredible.” Ned choked out a laugh as he felt the new arm. It was surprisingly warm and soft to the touch. The metal felt like skin, like there were real muscles and bones beneath it. All Ned could do was admire his new limb, coming to terms with the fact that he could use two hands again.

“I believe you owe Korra a thank you.” Hippolyta smiled at Ned.

The words couldn’t leave his lips fast enough. “I don’t know how you did this, but I will never forget it. You have my eternal gratitude.”

“The gratitude of a king is a fine thing.” Korra chuckled. “Now lets talk about all the cool shit the arm can do.”

“It can do more?” Ned was bewildered, being able to perfectly replicate his previous arm was already far beyond what he had hoped for.

“Yea!” Korra nodded enthusiastically. “So the arm works by the metal forming to what you feel your arm to be.” She explained. “Your phantom limb has been given form. You can’t actually feel sensations with this new arm as it’s not got any nerves. Your mind’s just tricking you into thinking that you can feel things with it. The metal is reacting to what you think it should do. So… imagine you have claws.”

“What?”

“Do it. Close your eyes and will your claws into existence.”

Ned did as he was told. He remembered what it felt like to have claws in his wolf form. He felt them protruding from his fingers, eager to rend the flesh of his foes.

After a few moments of imagining, Ned opened his eyes and was astonished again. Long, sharp claws had sprouted from the ends of his fingers.

“You truly are miracle worker.” Ned said in amazement.

“Here, see if you can carve this.” Korra handed Ned a stone brick. He sunk his claws into the stone, gouging deep grooves along it’s length.

“I’m sure you can tell him all about what the arm can do later.” Hippolyta said, taking Ned by his flesh hand. “But i’m afraid our King will be indisposed for the rest of the night.”

And with that she quickly lead Ned all the way back to the palace, past his room and to Hippolyta’s.

With a smirk, she pushed him back onto the bed after they entered her chambers. His legs draped over the edge as he sank into the soft mattress. Ned gazed up in wonder at the image of divine beauty that stood before him with a hand on her hip.

“Gods… I’ve been waiting for another Stark for so long…” Hippolyta said as she sank to her knees between his legs. His cock quickly began to inflate at the sight of her two melon-breasts in such close proximity to it. So large, yet firmer and higher than any Ned had seen before.

“I’m happy to fulfil any needs you require.” Ned chuckled.

His cock twitched when she put her fingers around it, taking a firm grasp of his member. Ned was throbbing as Hippolyta slowly jerked him to his full twelve inches. The clear liquid of his pre-seed began to leak from the end. She licked her lips, leaned down and dragged her tongue along the tip of Ned’s cock, drawing a deep groan from his chest.

“Mmmm.” She moaned. “Delicious.” Her fingers silkily danced up and down his throbbing cock as she savoured the taste of his seed.

“If you truly think that, I’d have thought you’d want another taste.” Ned said in a strained voice as she continued to jerk his cock.

“Oh believe me.” Hippolyta giggled. “I intend to enjoy every inch of this magnificent phallus. Cocks are such a rare find on Themyscira, especially one of this caliber. I shall savour it like a rare treat.”

With that, she gave Ned’s cock-head a big wet kiss, lavishing it with her tongue. Hippolyta kissed up and down the length of his shaft, lavishing every inch of it with her tongue, using it to trace the veins along it’s length.

Eventually she made her way back to his tip, sealing her lips around his cock-head, swirling her tongue around it at a dizzying speeds as she sucked on him hard. Her hands were not idle as her mouth went to work. Her right hand continued to pump his length, gaining speed, setting a quick rhythm. Her left began caressing Ned’s balls, cupping and massaging them gently.

Ned could only moan and lay back under such a pleasurable assault. He bucked his hips a few times, chasing the feeling of Hippolyta’s mouth around him. Ned could feel the vibrations of her mouth as she laughed, gazing up at him with her dazzlingly clear blue eyes. Every moan she gave as she pleasured him only drove him further into a lust filled madness.

Threading his metal fingers through her golden locks, Ned took a firm grasp of her hair. Hippolyta understood what he wanted immediately. To take control. Her hands left his cock and went to his knees, bracing herself for what was to come. She began sucking even harder than before, the corners of her mouth forming a slight smirk around his shaft.

“Breath deep now.” Ned said as he pulled her head further down his cock, thrusting up with his hips.

He began slowly, not wanting to choke the Queen instantly. He eased into her mouth slowly, but forcefully. An inch at a time. She went just over eight inches down before she began to choke, her throat bulging around his shaft. Ned held her there, choking on him until her face began to go red, then he released her. She shot off his cock, coughing as she tried to gulp down breaths of air, a string of saliva connecting her lip to his cock.

Panting, Hippolyta rested her head against his thigh, his cock laying along her face. “Gods… I’ve missed choking on the Stark cock.” She laughed, breathlessly.

“You do it better than most.” Ned told her, stroking her sweaty hair away from her face.

“I’m out of practice.” Hippolyta admitted. “I used to be able to take all twelve inches of the Stark cock with ease.”

Ned took his shaft in one hand and her hair in the other. “Then perhaps you should practice some more.”

Hippolyta opened her mouth to answer him, but Ned didn’t give her the chance. He shoved his cock passed her lips and began bobbing her head up and down the shaft. She instinctively began sucking him hard, lathering his throbbing member with her tongue.

Ned used her like a toy, who’s only purpose was to bring him to his end. He ignored her gags when he took her to nine inches, ten inches, eleven inches… The twelfth inch took the most work. Drool was pouring from her lips and dripping over his balls as her beautiful face went beet-red and her eyes rolled back into her skull.

Eventually Ned pulled her off his cock, leaving it covered in her spit. Taking his cock in hand, Ned slapped the Amazon Queen’s barely conscious face with it a few times, before going back to ploughing her throat like it was Mellario’s arsehole.

He made sure her golden crown stayed on. He wanted it to be clear it was a Queen’s throat he was using. The tightness of Hippolyta’s throat as it contracted around the invader was maddening. He pulled her head up and down his throbbing shaft, the wet Gluck sounds coming from her throat echoed throughout the room. His balls were battering her chin as she went limp in his arms, surrendering completely to her King.

Eventually the sensations became too much for him. With the telltale twitching in his cock, Ned forced all twelve inches as deep into Hippolyta’s throat as he could go. Rope after rope of his seed exploded from the end of his cock, depositing itself directly into her stomach. He held her there for what felt like an age before withdrawing, spending the last few ropes on Hippolyta’s perfect, unconscious face.

Ned left her propped up against the foot of the bed as he rose to his feet and walked over to a pitcher of water that stood on a table to the side. He gulped down the clear, cool water eagerly. Once Ned was sufficiently refreshed, he walked back to Hippolyta and splashed her face with the remaining water, cleaning her off and waking her up.

The Queen spluttered awake indignantly, before she saw Ned standing over her, his cock still hard and glistening with her spit. “It seems you defeated me on our first bout.” She smirked up at him. “Perhaps you could be a gentleman and afford me the opportunity to prove my worth again.”

Ned grinned at her as he set the pitcher down on the floor. “I shall give you as many opportunities as you require.”

Quick as a flash, Ned yanked Hippolyta from the floor and threw her onto the bed. She landed with a giggle before Ned landed on top of her, folding her legs up, leaving her completely at his mercy.

“Gods Ne-EEDDD!!” She shrieked, her eyes rolling back into her head as Ned slammed every inch of his foot-long cock directly into her cunt without warning. The only lubrication being her spit on his member. With a satisfied grin on his face, Ned was balls deep in the Queen of the Amazons, a woman of divine beauty and unmatched legend.

He made her submit before him. The warrior Queen was quivering around his shaft as she howled in pleasure. Her body instantly succumbed to Ned’s cock, her cunt was already wet and ready, eager to accept his cock as her hands grasped at the bedsheets, tearing them in her grip as she whined. But Ned ignored her, he withdrew from her sopping cunt and thrust up to the hilt inside her again. And again. And again.

The shockwaves of his assault sending pleasant ripples all through Hippolyta’s perfect flesh. The twin rosy capped melons that resided on her chest bounced back and forth in time with Ned’s thrusts. Breasts had always held Ned’s highest esteem for parts of a woman’s body. Even since he had first seen Sylvie’s glorious chest as she bathed in the godswood. When he gave her his maidenhead.

He leaned down and took one of her rosy nipples in his mouth, sucking it hard and teasing it with his teeth, making Hippolyta moan even louder as his hips clapped down on hers, making the bed creak and shake beneath them.

Ned’s cock was knocking on the entrance to Hippolyta’s womb, demanding entrance and she was willingly giving it to him. Their second bout was seemingly as much a route for her as their first had been. Though Ned imagined she didn’t mind too much. She certainly didn’t seem to. Her clenching cunt, twitching legs and ever more wild shrieking told Ned she was violently climaxing around him. The sudden tightness and rush of warmth that bathed his throbbing cock confirmed it for him. Yet still he fucked on, latching onto Hippolyta’s massive breasts as she sobbed from the pleasure beneath him.

“FUCK ME! FUCK ME NED!” Hippolyta whined as Ned ravaged her cunt without a thought for her. “I’M YOURS TO USE AS YOU WISH!”

“Do you submit?” Ned demanded, his mouth leaving her tit.

“YES! I SUBMIT!” She screamed, arching her back, trembling and weeping as Ned fucked her through her second climax of the night.

With a low grunt and a few dozen more thrusts, Ned filled her eager womb with his seed. Just as the Lusty Wolf had done thousands of years before. Still hard as Uru, Ned pulled out of Hippolyta’s gushing cunt and flipped her over onto her face, pressing it into the silken sheets of the bed.

Relishing the use of both hands again, Ned angled her hips to point her arse upwards towards him, on her knees. And what an arse it was. Twin globes of flawless creamy skin, with a enough flesh that a man could happily drown in her arsecheeks.

Ned laid his shaft along the the canyon between the two mounds, feeling her shiver as her cunt and her arsehole kissed his cock. Taking his cock in hand, Ned rubbed it against the two holes, teasing them both. Hippolyta moaned into the mattress as she pressed her hips back to meet him, begging him to enter her. Ned was happy to oblige.

With one mighty thrust, he shoved every inch of his cock back into her waiting cunt. Her climax was instant. Her screams could likely be heard all over the island. “FUCK ME! FUCK ME!” Was all she moaned, again and again as Ned dominated her body with his cock. Waves of her pale, trembling flesh rippled across her massive arse as Ned slammed his hips against it.

Ned gripped her waist so hand he thought she might bruise later as he ravaged her like a bitch in heat. All her strength had left her quickly, she was his plaything now. And she seemingly loved it. Ned fucked her through her fourth climax, then her fifth. After her sixth, Ned began to rain blows down on her fleshy arse with his new metal hand. Her cheeks turned a wonderful shade of red when he struck them repeatedly, making her tighten around him as she quivered.

He placed his metal hand on the centre of Hippolyta’s back, pushing her harder against the mattress as he quickened his pace. Any words Hippolyta might have screamed lost all meaning after that. Ned turned her into a babbling mess of a woman where once stood a powerful warrior and a beautiful Queen.

Now she was his whore.

The wooden frame of the bed was creaking louder and louder, one end banging against the wall as the bed moved with Ned’s thrusts. Eventually it snapped under the force of their fucking. Neither of them noticed however, as Ned was busy fucking Hippolyta into a catatonic state. And Hippolyta was in a catatonic state thanks to Ned’s fucking.

She squirted again and again, soaking the ruined bed beneath them.

Eventually Ned grew tired of his position kneeling over Hippolyta, so he hooked his arms under her legs, wrapped his hands behind her head and lifted her up, still keeping his cock inside her. Hippolyta’s room had a large balcony with a wonderful view that they had mostly ignored after they arrived.

Ned decided to remedy that.

He carried Hippolyta through the sheer silk curtains and out into the cool air of the balcony. They were on a high hill that afforded them an excellent view of the city below them, leading all the way to a harbour where ships stayed in dock over night.

Looking out over the city that Hippolyta ruled, Ned began to bounce her up and down his cock. She could only moan weekly as Ned pleasured himself using her cunt.

“Who’s whore are you?” Ned whispered into her ear as he eased her up and down his cock.

“Yours…” Hippolyta moaned back weakly.

“I can’t hear you.” Ned goaded her.

“Yours!” She moaned louder.

“You can do better than that!” Ned quickened his pace, the loud claps of her ample arse against his waist echoed over the city.

“Yours! I’m your whore! Fuck your whore! Please fuck me!” Hippolyta screamed as she squirted on Ned’s cock again, her huge breasts bouncing wildly.

The effort eventually became too much for Ned and he filled Hippolyta with his seed again, spending rope after rope inside her womb.

If we keep up like this, you’ll have a babe by the end of the week, Ned mused as he motioned her up and down his cock.

After a few moments of looking out over the Amazon city at night, gently thrusting inside Hippolyta, something hit Ned on the side of the head, then clattered to the marble floor of the balcony. Ned looked to where the impact had come from and saw Hippolyta’s daughter Diana, standing on her balcony not five feet away from him. She was completely naked and looking at Ned with daggers in her eyes.

“Some of us are trying to sleep.” She said with so much venom Ned thought he might drop dead. But he saw what state she was in. Her hair was messed up, her nipples were hard as diamonds and there was a faint glistening wetness between her thighs.

She’d been listening to them.

She was jealous.

Ned turned to face Diana, still holding Hippolyta, giving her a perfect view of his cock splitting her mother’s cunt apart.

“Your mother and I just wanted to take in the view.” He said. “Sleep well.” He carried Hippolyta back into her room and deposited her back onto the bed with a thump.

“A-a-are we done then…?” She moaned weakly, his seed gushing from her cunt.

“Oh… Not nearly.” Ned said as he knelt behind her, angled his cock with her arsehole and thrust inside without warning. “Especially not now we have a captive audience.” He whispered in Hippolyta’s ear as she screamed and convulsed in pleasure.

*******************************************************************************************************

Catelyn

It seemed a thousand years ago that she had walked out of Riverrun a newly married woman with a babe on the way, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat to begin her journey north to Winterfell as the Riverlands were ravaged by war. Now she was returning to her childhood home, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat, not three months into her marriage to Elia and carrying another babe in her womb, with the Riverlands ravaged by war.

There had been thinkers and philosophers Cat had read about that said the Gods made play of mortal men and women, and that they weren’t very imaginative with their toys. Patterns would repeat themselves again and again, with the people learning nothing from the past. Cat found herself thinking of a poem “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake,” she could certainly agree with that sentiment.

Elia sat beside her on the boat, their direwolves were around them as the rowers pulled at their oars. Harper was the only Chosen Man with them at the time. They rest of them, her uncle Brynden and the Northern lords would follow in other boats. Robb, Alysanne, Lyanna and Rhaenys were already inside the castle. One of the many benefits of riding a dragon, Cat mused. Walls were not an obstacle for them.

Their small boat was carried quickly down the Tumblestone, the strong current pushing them along past the looming Wheel Tower. There was a comfortable familiarity to Riverrun’s old sandstone walls that Cat only felt with one other place: Winterfell. People were gathering on top of the walls, they shouted her name and Elia’s, waving the banners of House Tully. There was a part of Cat that longed to be back in Winterfell, in the nice large bed she shared with her husband and her wives, but she could not deny a part of her was glad to be back in her girlhood home.

The boat turned in the shadow of the Wheel Tower, angling itself towards the Water Gate as it came into view. The great iron portcullis rose from the water to grant them access, the lower half having been reddened with rust.

They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Her father’s guards waited on the water stair with her brother, Robb, Alysanne, Lyanna and Rhaenys. Edmure had become a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard in the years since she’d last seen him. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. A man Cat recognised as Lord Tytos Blackwood stood at her brother’s left, to his right stood a woman that Cat needed to have words with.

Minisa Tully had been a beautiful woman in her youth, men had said Cat resembled her mother closely and it was something she was grateful for. Alas, she was a woman past sixty now. Her mother’s hair that had once been as red as her own had lost most of it’s colour, giving way to grey. What little red remained was faded, lacking the light of youth.

Upon seeing her mother, Cat didn’t quite know what to feel. Her husband had fucked her mother. Her devout mother had betrayed her wedding vows for a small amount of time in Ned’s bed.

Though in truth, that wasn’t something Cat could find it within herself to feel anger for. If she had married another man, Cat knew she would more than likely have bedded Ned at the first chance she was given too. Thoughts of her mother and her husband were pushed from her mind when she heard her brother speak.

“Bring them in,” Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out and over to Robb, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and falling down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man had a sheepish look on his face. Harper vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Cat by the waist, carefully trying not to press against her pregnant stomach, setting her on a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots. He then did the same with Elia.

Edmure came down the steps to embrace her. “Sweet sister,” he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Cat hugged him fiercely.

“I’m glad to see the water was no trouble.” Robb said as he walked down to her, followed by Alysanne and Rhaenys, who went to Elia.

“I used to swim that river when I was a girl.” Cat pointed out to her son. “A boat was of little trouble.”

“I doubt you could swim the Tumblestone in your current state, little Cat.” Her mother gracefully walked down the steps to be eye to eye with her.

“Yes.” Edmure joined their mother. “It seems even in these dire times there can be cause for celebration. Congratulations, to you both.” He said to her and Elia. “How many does that make now, six?”

“Seven. From my womb at least” Cat corrected him.

“Seven…” Minisa said, in awe. “It’s a wonder you get any sleep.” She laughed.

“Your daughter certainly married a potent man, Lady Tully.” Elia gave Minisa a knowing smile. Stop it, Cat told her with a stern look. Elia only gave her a charming smile in return. She was loving it. Something Cat was unwilling to deal with at the moment.

“I would like to see father.” Cat cut through the conversation in an effort to stop Elia from eventually blurting out they knew what her mother had done with Ned.

“He awaits you in his solar,” Edmure said.

“Hoster has been bedridden for some time.” Her mother explained. “He wanted me to bring you to him when you arrived.”

“I’ll take her.” Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr and Brandon had once crossed swords for her favour. The massive sandstone walls of the keep loomed above them. As they pushed through a door between two guardsmen in fish-crest helms, she asked, “How bad is he?” dreading the answer even as she said the words.

Edmure’s look was somber. “He will not be with us long, the maesters say. The pain is… constant, and grievous.”

“You should have told me,” she said. “You should have sent word as soon as you knew.”

“He forbade it. He did not want his enemies to know that he was dying. With the realm so troubled, he feared that if the Lannisters suspected how frail he was…”

“…they might attack?” Cat finished, hard. It was your doing, yours, a voice whispered inside her. If you had not taken it upon yourself to seize the dwarf…

They climbed the spiral stair in silence.

Eventually they reached her father’s chamber, Edmure tentatively nudged him awake. “Father, see who I’ve brought. Cat has come to see you…”

Hoster Tully had always been a big man; tall and broad in his youth, portly as he grew older. Now he seemed shrunken, the muscle and meat melted off his bones. Even his face sagged. The last time Cat had seen him, his hair and beard had been brown, well streaked with grey. Now they had gone white as snow.

His eyes opened to the sound of Edmure’s voice. “Little Cat,” he murmured in a voice thin and wispy and wracked by pain. “My little Cat.” A tremulous smile touched his face as his hand groped for hers. “I watched for you…”

After a rather sporadic conversation with her father fuelled by milk of the poppy, Cat left him to his rest. When she returned to the lower bailey, she saw her uncle and her mother talking quietly together. When they saw her, they came quick. “Is he—?” Her uncle asked.

“Dying,” Cat said, with a forlorn sense of finality. “As we feared.”

Her uncle’s craggy face showed his pain plain. He ran his fingers through his thick grey hair. “Will he see me?”

Cat nodded. “He says he is too sick to fight.”

Brynden Blackfish chuckled. “I am too old a soldier to believe that. Hoster will be chiding me about the Redwyne girl even as we light his funeral pyre, damn his bones.” With that, he left Cat and her mother alone together.

“I have missed you little-“

“I know, mother.” Cat blurted out, interrupting her. This wasn’t how she meant to do it, but in the moment, she could not deny herself.

Minisa looked at Cat quizzically. “I know this is a trying time but that’s no way to talk to your mother, Catelyn.”

“I know what you did at Harrenhal.” Cat locked eyes with her mother. “…With the man who would be my husband…”

Shock passed over Minisa in that instance, then gave way to confusion. “How could you possibly know about that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Brandon’s been dead over twenty years, who told you what we did?”

“Brandon!?” Cat shrieked indignantly. They were lucky no one else was there. “I’m talking about Ned!”

“Oh…” Silence filled the air as Cat realised the fullness of her mother’s actions.

“You fucked both of them…” She took a deep breath. This was certainly something she didn’t need to be dealing with along with everything else. “You bedded my future husband and my betrothed.” Was more a statement than a question.

“I’m so sorry, Cat.” Her mother pleaded with her, taking her by the hands.

Cat was stern. “I don’t want apologies, I want to know what happened.” She knew in her heart she should be angrier with her mother. With Ned too…

“Ned… Was some fun on a trip away from home…” Her mother seemed ashamed to admit it. “He happened upon me swimming in the river. He was very polite, and a handsome lad so…”

“So… You fucked him on the riverbank.”

Her mother bowed her head, speaking softly. “Yes…”

Cat exhaled through her nose. “If we forget that you are married to father for a moment. Ned at Harrenhal, I can forgive… Were I not betrothed to Brandon, I could easily see myself being among Ned’s conquests there. But you also took Ned here in Riverrun. On the day I was to marry him…”

Her mother began to chew her bottom lip. “Did Ned tell you that?”

“No, Petyr said he saw you and he together.”

The thought seemed to disgust her mother. “Ugh, that little pervert. Do you know how many times I caught him watching me bathe?”

“He was watching Ned, Elia and I fucking too.” Cat admitted. “But explain your actions.”

“Ned was in pain…” Minisa said, sadly. “His father and brother had been murdered, the gods only knew what was happening to his sister… I wanted to stay away, but I could not deny the comfort I wanted to give him… and his cock was too good to leave behind…”

To her surprise, Cat found herself nodding in agreement. Until she remembered it was her own mother talking about her husband’s cock. “And Brandon?” She said, trying to move on. “What happened with him?”

“After I persuaded your husband to peruse Lady Ashara, she started taking up more of his time.” Her mother confessed. “My bed was empty until Brandon came to me one night, saying i’d already had one Stark brother and that another was no different.” She gave a small smile. “He was right…”

“So you spent the tourney bouncing between the two oldest Stark sons?”

“I regret that I did not have them both together.” The thought had crossed Cat’s mind before. Brandon and Ned with her in between them. Two Stark men, essentially two Neds… The idea had caused a stirring in her loins more than once. “Alas.” Her mother said. “After Ned found Ashara, it was mainly Brandon and Rhaella in my bed.”

“Rhaella Targaryen!?” Cat was certainly shocked at this revelation. Was her mother where she got her attraction to women from? “Wife of the Mad King!?”

“Yes.” Minisa smiled. “Brandon kept the two of us up all night long.”

Gods, Brandon had no fear at all, Cat nearly laughed. He bedded the mother of his betrothed and the Queen of the Seven kingdoms at the same time. He really was a Stark…

“Can you forgive me, little Cat?” Her mother asked. Cat found herself unable to be truly angry with her mother, as she would more than likely have done the same in her mother’s position. Ned had a hold on her that she could not describe.

“I must admit, this news does not make me as angry as I would have been in the past.” Cat admitted. “I love you… I will adore Ned until I die and Brandon has been in the ground for twenty years…”

“So you can forgive me?”

“It’s something I can live with.” Cat affirmed. “Now, I must find my children.” She left her mother in the bailey.

She was walking through the courtyard when three dragons flew overhead. It took her moments to recognise them as Moonhowler, Sunbeam and Winderfröst. Why would Jon, Sansa and Benjen fly to us so soon? She wondered. Had their battle gone ill? Their dragons didn’t appear hurt.

Eventually all three dragons landed outside the castle walls. She saw Robb and Alysanne hurrying out of a hall to join her, the Chosen Men behind them. She heard someone shouting “Open the gate!” On top of the wall. The great iron portcullis rose slowly, groaning as it was lifted into the air.

“I ordered Jon to stay with his army.” Robb said as he stood next to Cat.

“Your brother would not disobey you lightly.” She said.

Please gods, let it be good news they bring, she preyed silently.

She saw Jon, Sansa, Benjen and Ash all walking across Riverrun’s drawbridge, unharmed, but with grim looks on their faces. Jon was also carrying a body over his shoulder, their arms and legs tied together and a bag over their head.

“I know you told me to stay with my men.” Jon said when he reached them. “But this is an urgent matter.”

“What happened with the Lannisters?” Alysanne asked. “Did the battle go ill?”

Jon handed the body to Hagman. “Take her and put her in a dungeon, alone.” He said. “You are to guard her yourself and let none but us near her. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Harper answered and took the woman away, she tried to struggle as Jon handed her over, from the sounds of it, she was gagged too.

“Jon explain yourself.” Robb was getting annoyed.

“In private.” Jon answered, “Right now.”

—————————

“Dragons!?” Robb shouted in astonishment.

“Yes.” Jon answered grimly. “And seemingly more riders than we have. It was a minor miracle none of ours died.” A lifetime of decorum fought against Cat’s urge to bang her fist on the table in fury. They were all in the solar: Cat, Ash, Elia, Benjen, Lyanna, Robb, Jon, Alysanne, Sansa and Rhaenys. Jon had gathered them all together and told them what Tywin had in his armies.

“It’s not a total calamity.” Benjen said, evenly. “From what we’ve gathered from our captive, none of Tywin’s dragons are older than twenty. It seems he had eggs stolen from the Dragon Pit when his men took King’s Landing. Then he hatched them in the following years.”

“And we killed several of the dragons during the battle.” Sansa said. Cat’s heart filled with sorrow at hearing her daughter talk that way.

“Do we know if that was the sum total of his dragons?” Robb asked as he leaned against the room’s hearth.

“No…” Jon admitted. “He could have more than we’ve seen.”

“And how did he manage to tame them?”

“From how our captive looks, it seems Tywin used his position as Hand to squirrel away the Mad King’s bastards, taking them and raising them in the Rock.”

“So he has dragons and riders...” Cat said. “We need to be very careful in what we do next.”

“I already have an idea.” Jon said. “The dragons we have here are not the only dragons our house posses. What we’re short on is riders.”

“Are you suggesting we start looking for Stark bastards?” Rhaenys asked.

“We wouldn’t need to look too far.” Jon chuckled.

“I seem to remember Rhaenyra Targaryen tried a similar method during the Dance of Dragons.” Ash said. “It did not go well…”

“Then what would you suggest, mother?” Jon turned to her. “Because I saw my family members being swarmed by dragons and I have no other ideas how to protect them.”

History repeats…

“It’s an idea worth considering.” Robb said. “Stark bastards have ridden Stark dragons before and been a great help.”

“Sara Snow.” Lyanna said. “She rode Meraxes during the Dance.”

Cat heard a loud knocking could be heard from the door. “We said not to be disturbed.” Robb called through the door. After a moment it opened with Yennefer standing in the doorway, glassy eyed, holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

“They…” was all she managed to say before the tears started falling.

—————————

The world was a bleak place now. As if the sun mourned Ned’s absence. Cat had been distraught when Yennefer told them what had happened. She wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t. Joffrey had written letters to every high lord in the realm. Ned and Arthur had been publicly gelded and then beheaded on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor.

She had not said words, for there were no words to say.

Only grief.

Elia had quietly wept in the corner, Ash had been loud and angry, full of her Dornish fire for her husband and brother. Lyanna had to be restrained from mounting her dragon and riding off to wipe King’s Landing off the map. Cat’s first thought had been of her children and the child in her womb that would never know their father.

—————————

“YES! YES! FUCK ME NED! FUCK YOUR WHORE!!!” Hippolyta screamed as Ned rammed her from behind. His throbbing cock thrusting in and out of the Queen’s arse.

While their bed frame had broken some hours ago, the mattress was still in working order, though that was like to change under the force of their fucking. His metal hand gripped her throat and held it tightly, cutting of her air as her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“It’s a poor queen who leaves her subjects wanting.” Ned said as he thrust her face back into Meghara’s sodden cunt. The scribe had walked in on Ned and Hippolyta’s liaison and promptly joined them, as had the two guards stationed on their door.

Ned found himself in a writhing mass of strong limbs and bountiful curves. All four women were used to slake his lusts. They served him enthusiastically with every hole they had.

If only my women were here,Ned thought.Then it would truly be Paradise.

—————————

In the hours after they received the news, they were visited by every lord and lady in the castle. Those from the North were clearly distraught by Ned’s death. They loved him, and Arthur too, to a lesser extent. They all offered their condolences, yet Cat could only find solace in her family.

Eventually, her children and the Northerners went to pray in Riverrun’s godswood. Elia hand wanted to go to the Sept, so Ash had gone with her. Cat hadn’t gone with them. She had prayed for Ned’s safe return, clearly the gods weren’t listening.

She found herself wandering the halls of her home aimlessly. Men and women stepped aside and bowed their heads as she passed them by, not sparing them a thought. There was only one thing that occupied Cat’s mind by then. She found it when she came to the solar where they kept the Kingslayer.

“Move aside.” She ordered the two Ice Guard that blocked her path. They looked to each other for a few moments, then opened the door for her. Ser Jaime was chained to the bed that he lay on. The Maester was treating the wounds Lyanna and the Chosen Men had inflicted upon him. His fever had died down and he was conscious enough to talk.

“Ah… Lady Stark.” He said when she walked into the room and shut the door behind her. “After I heard the news… I expected one of you to come.” Cat ignored him and pulled up a chair to his bedside. She sat down on it and fixed him with a steely gaze. “I am sorry about your husband.”

“Arthur taught you everything. He gave you a knighthood. What a disappointment you must be to him now…”

“I would raise my cup to their memory. If I had a cup… Or a hand…” He raised his stump as far as his bonds would allow. Then he stilled and his humour melted away. “I won’t beg for my life.”

“I’m not going to kill you Kingslayer.” Her voice had hoarse with grief. “But you will suffer. I have such plans for you…” her eyes looked over Jaime’s battered body for a moment. “First i’ll take your other hand, then your feet, then your tongue and all your perfect teeth-“

“-Yes and then you’ll take my eyes…” Jaime finished for her. “Really Lady Stark I thought you’d be more imaginative than that.”

“You are mistaken.” Cat said. “You will keep you eyes because I want you to see what will happen to your family.” That got a reaction from him. He strained against his bonds with hate in his eyes. Cat felt that they were secure enough so she carried on. “Your sister will be placed in a stockade in Winterfell’s main square. First the Stark men will use her. Then the men of the castle will get their turn.” Cat felt a sea of hatred bubbling from within her. If the Lannisters had never murdered Jon Arryn, Ned would never have needed to go south and he would still be with her. “Once the men of Winterfell have had their turn, then it’ll be the wolves. Please understand, I don’t mean for the wolves to eat her…” The Kingslayer was growing more furious by the second. “Once the wolves have had their turn, then she will be open to the men of the Winter City. For one copper coin they’ll get to fuck the former queen. And you’ll see every moment of it, as will Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. For the rest of your lives.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Jaime spat. Cat gripped him tightly by the balls, making the Kingslayer shriek in shock.

“Look into my eyes.” Cat thundered. She knew her sons would never let her do the things she said, but the Kingslayer did not. He held her gaze for a time, before blinking and looking away. Cat got up to leave the room when she opened the door she heard his voice.

“I thought you wouldn’t fit in with the harsh North… You truly have a heart of stone.”

No Kingslayer, only a broken one…

Cooper found her wandering the halls “We’ve had word from the south, Princess.” He said. “Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother’s crown.”

“Renly?” she said, shocked. “I had thought… Surely it would be Lord Stannis…”

“So did we all, Princess.” The Chosen Man said. “Prince Robb and your brother have called a council to discuss it.” Cat had not the strength after everything that had already happened that day. Yet she knew her children were feeling the same. She had to be strong for her family.

The war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a misshapen square. As her father was too weak to attend, Edmure sat in the high seat of the Tullys, with her uncle at his right and her mother to his left. The Riverlords arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Karyl Vance came in, a lord now, his father dead beneath the Golden Tooth. Ser Marq Piper was with him, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun’s son, a lad no older than Bran. Lord Jonos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos Blackwood as the tables would permit.

The northern lords sat opposite, with the Starks sat together, facing her brother across the tables. Benjen sat at Robb’s left hand, and Rhaenys on his right. Cat, Ash and Elia sat next to her with Sansa and Alysanne. Jon sat next to Benjen with Lyanna on his left, her eyes burning with fury. There were so many Northern lords around her that she could not name them all. But she knew every one of their faces.

The arguing raged on late into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did… and shout, and swear, and reason, and cajole, and jest, and bargain, and slam tankards on the table, and threaten, and walk out, and return sullen or smiling. Cat sat and listened to it all.

Jon told them of his battle with Tywin Lannister, listing the captives they had taken, Tywin’s own brother among them. The lords had certainly not taken news of Tywin’s dragons well, but seemed to be assured by the fact that many of his dragons had been killed and the fact that Jon had made a prisoner of one of his dragonriders. Jon said he had left Beric in charge of his forces while he brought the captive to Riverrun and that his scouts had told him Lord Tywin’s army had crossed the Trident and was retreating towards Harrenhal. In the end the matter they spent the most time on was the two kings in the realm. Two kings, and no agreement.

Many lords wanted to march on Harrenhal at once, to meet Lord Tywin and make an end of the Old Lion for good and all. Lyanna urged them to attack King’s Landing and put Joffrey’s head on a spike. The patient Lord Dhalark said that Tywin was a wounded animal and therefore at his most dangerous. Not to mention his previously unknown dragons. He counselled that they should all gather their men into one force before they even think of attacking Harrenhal. Lord Jonos Bracken was one of the last to speak insisting they should pledge their fealty to King Renly, and move south to join their might to his.

“Renly is not the king,” Robb said. It was the first time her son had spoken. Much like his father, he knew how to listen.

“You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, My Prince,” Robert Rarker said. “He put your father to death.”

“That means he will die,” Robb replied. “That doesn’t mean Renly should be king.”

“Renly is not right!” Lord Balgruuf Nord snapped.

“We know Cersei’s children are bastards born of incest.” Jon said. “Robert’s blood does not flow through their veins. So his claim passes to Stannis.”

Lady Mormont agreed. “Lord Stannis has the better claim!”

“Renly is crowned,” said Marq Piper. “Highgarden and Storm’s End support his claim. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have four of the seven great houses behind him. Five, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Five against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?”

“The right.” said Robb, with an icy glare. It almost pained her, but Cat thought Robb had never looked more like his father than in that moment.

“I don’t know about you, my Lords.” Benjen said. “I could never place my trust in a man who would try to steal his brother’s claim. He would betray us in an instant if it suited him.”

“So the Starks will declare for Stannis?” asked Edmure.

“I don’t know,” said Robb. “I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer.”

“My lord father would urge caution,” The aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. “Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce… and the safe return of his son and brother. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms…”

A roar of outrage drowned out his voice.

Lyanna nearly leaped at him with a butter knife in hand.

“Craven!” the Greatjon thundered.

“Begging for a truce will make us seem weak,” Declared Lady Mormont.

“Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer,” shouted Rickard Karstark.

“Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my king,” declared Marq Piper.

“Nor I!” yelled the little Darry boy. “I never will!”

“MY LORDS!” The Greatjon shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. “Here is what I say to these two kings!” He spat, to the cheers and laughter of the Northern lords. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I’ve had a bellyful of them. It strikes me we have a simple solution to our problem.” He pointed at Rhaenys, who’d been sitting quietly the whole time. Cat almost couldn’t see that she’d been crying before the council. “We have the Last Targaryen sitting in our midst. A woman grown, a warrior and a dragonrider. A Princess of Winterfell with a Stark pup in her belly.” The Northern lords began to bang their fists and tankards on their tables in approval. “The Prince of Dorne would much like to seat his niece on the Iron Throne i’d wager, and how many others would welcome a Targaryen back in King’s Landing? Backed by the North, the Riverlands and Dorne. I say the North and the Riverlords once went to war for a Targaryen Queen and I can think of few I would rather bow to.”

The idea seemed to be a popular one among the Northerners. Robb had turned to Rhaenys, Cat could not hear their words over the noise, but she imagined Robb was offering his support. Eventually she stood up and the sounds died down.

“I am grateful for the honour you bestow upon me, Lord Umber.” She said. “But I am afraid I cannot accept it. I have no wish to return to King’s Landing. It is a place of death and Winterfell is my home, I will not leave it even for a crown.”

There was silence in the hall for a few moments. “Ah, fuck it.” The Greatjon said as he reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. “Then why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to and married, and now the only dragon left is more Stark than Targaryen!” He pointed at Robb with the blade. “There sits the only King I mean to bow my knee to, m’lords,” he thundered. “The King in the North!”

And he knelt, and laid his sword at her son’s feet.

“I was a boy when the dragons came to Westeros…” Old Barrengar the forge-master rose to his feet, leaning on his weirwood staff. He was the oldest living Child of the Forest. His long white beard reached his waist. All were silent when he spoke. “I remember my father telling me one day that the Starks were no longer the kings of the North It did not seem real… I have lived through the reign of every southern king good and bad. And I have only one thing to say to the prospect of living under another one...” He through down his staff at Robb’s feet. “Fuck that!” He fell to his knees. “To the Stark of Winterfell: The Lord of Ice and Snow. I pledge to you my fealty, and all else that I owe.”

“I’ll have peace on those terms,” Lord Karstark raised his voice as he left his seat. “They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too.” He eased his longsword from its scabbard. “The King in the North!” he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon.

“You are my brother, now and always.” Jon vowed as he rose to his feet and drew his sword. “My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day until my last day.” He joined Karstark, Umber and Barrengar on his knees and laid his Valyrian Steel blade at his twin’s feet.

Then it was Sylvie who stood. “The King of Winter!” she declared, and laid her curved blade beside the swords. Then it was Dhalark, and Rarker, and Nord, and Glover, and Mormont, and Manderly, and Bolton, and Tallhart, and Thenn. The lords of the North all rose and knelt to her son.

Then the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Cat watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for nearly three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one… yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of her father’s hall:

“The King in the North!”

“The King in the North!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”