Chapter 23
Jon was in awe.
It’s a wonder father even remembered us with women like this surrounding him.
The Amazons of Themyscira had finally arrived at Riverrun, Jon and his family were there to receive them. Each of the Amazons was more beautiful than the last, all tall and powerfully built with toned muscles on display. Light from the rising sun shone brightly off the polished metal of their arms and armour, giving them a flaming red hue.
They seemed to be goddesses made flesh.
Jon could practically feel Sansa holding herself back from surging forth to claim as many of them as she could. He could hardly blame her. At the head of the column rode a gorgeous woman with hair like spun gold that hung in a long braid over her shoulder. She must be Hippolyta, the Queen of the Amazons. Beside her rode another woman, with hair black as the night and piercing grey eyes. Diana, her daughter. His father had told them all of Hippolyta and Diana before he had left.
Beyond them came more beautiful women than Jon could ever count. “If their strength matches their beauty, we’ll win the war in a sennight.” Alysanne chuckled next to him.
Jon couldn’t help but agree with his sister. Eventually the two leaders of the Amazon column dismounted their horses and walked over to Jon’s three mothers.
“You must be Ned’s other wives.” Hippolyta said in a voice so lovely Jon’s eyes nearly watered. Hippolyta embraced them all together warmly, like they were her long lost sisters. “He told me you were beautiful, I now see that such words are unsatisfactory to describe your visages. You are not merely ‘beautiful’, but divine.” She pulled each of them in for a kiss. “I very much look forward to sharing your bed.”
“Welcome to Riverrun, Queen Hippolyta.” Robb coughed uncomfortably. “Father has told us much of the ferocity of the Amazons.”
“All true, and much more.” Hippolyta smiled at him. “We received word that Ned has gone south to treat with the other kings of this land.”
“Yes.” Jon’s birth mother said. “Let us talk privately of our husband and alliance. I’m sure your warriors are tired from a long journey.”
“We’re afraid that the castle is near full to bursting.” Elia chimed in. “There will be room for you and your daughters, but your warriors will have to put up tents for themselves.”
“Then it shall be done.” Hippolyta stated before turning to another blonde Amazon. “Antiope, I leave our forces under your command. Set up the camp and make sure our warriors and mounts are fed and watered.”
“Yes, sister.”
“Shall we?” Hippolyta asked as the groups dispersed in the courtyard.
Given that Robb would be meeting with Hippolyta, Jon saw no reason to crowd the room further so with Ghost and Toothless at his side he set off for Riverrun’s dungeons. The Valyrian dragonrider Jon had captured had yet to speak a word. He had already visited her multiple times, bringing food and water. Still nothing.
“Off to see your Valyrian pet again?” Jon heard Tetra’s voice as she walked up behind him, Moon-eyes, her direwolf fell in beside Ghost and Toothless. Jon’s Grandungur had grown even larger since they had come to the south. The great horned black lion now nearly matched Moon-eyes in height.
“I wouldn’t exactly call her a pet.”
“You’ve not let me interrogate her yet.” They turned a corner and walked down winding steps, their large familiars following in single file.
“Not let you force your way into her mind, you mean.”
“Whatever you wish to call it.” Tetra said, dismissively. “We need what she knows. Sooner than late.”
“I feel befriending her would be the surer way to that. And then have her as an ally.”
Tetra laughed at that. “Yes ‘Befriend’… You Starks are all the same.”
“What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause and use their own power against them?” They heard Alfred’s voice as they came down to the cell where they kept the dragonrider. “I seem to recall you telling me that once…” He said to Tetra.
Uncle Benjen’s oldest son had ridden his dragon to Riverrun to be healed after a skirmish with a couple of Lannister dragons. He looked different to when Jon saw him last. More gaunt and his hair can been cut very short. Apparently it had caught fire in his last battle and he did not wish it to happen again.
“And so, my former favourite student stabs me in the back.” Tetra looked down at Alfred as he sat by a wall with his Uru blade on his lap and Uhtred lying next to him.
“You wound me, Rectoress.” Alfred smiled as he rose from his seat.
“She been quiet?” Jon asked him.
“As a mouse.” As Alfred was one of Robb and Jon’s most trusted warriors, he had been charged with keeping an eye on the Valyrian girl along with some members of the Ice Guard. “But I do agree with Tetra.”
“As you should.”
“We’ve had her long enough and she’s not said anything of value.”
“Or anything at all…”
“I’ve said no.” Jon said, trying not to sound petulant. “My word on the matter is final.” He resisted adding ‘Mother said so.’ at the end of his words.
Tetra stared at him blankly. “Forgive me, I wasn’t listening to you just then. I was remembering the time you soiled yourself when I held you as a babe.” The beginnings of a snicker pulled on the sides of Alfred’s mouth as he looked away.
Jon rolled his eyes. Few could infuriate as much as Tetra Gilcrest. Will you ever let that go?
“No. That was a very expensive dress you ruined.”
“Stop reading my thoughts!”
“I don’t need to read your thoughts when wear them plainly on your face.”
With a grunt, Jon stepped past them towards the cell and the guards that stood outside it. Two more sat at a table playing dice with some food and water. All straightened up when they saw Jon.
The Kingslayer and his uncle Tygett Lannister were the only prisoners other than her that warranted having Ice Guard stand at their door. Once he had begun to heal from his injuries, the Lannister had been moved to one of the cells beside his uncle Tygett further along the hallway. Jon took up a cup from the guard’s table and a small wooden bowl that had some bread and cheese.
“We’ll see if she’s in a mood for words today.” Jon gestured to the cell door for the guard to open it. The door was large and heavy, strong oak five inches thick and reinforced with iron. The guard heaved it open and Jon walked into the cell, leaving Ghost and Toothless to stand outside.
For a dungeon it was relatively clean, with fresh straw splayed about, a large bucket and a bedroll. There was a small window high in the wall to the left of him, with iron bars across it, letting in fresh air and a dull grey light that fell in soft beams to the opposite wall.
She sat opposite the door, hunched in the shade. They had given her new clothes after confiscating her golden armour. Now she wore a plain shirt and some woollen breeches. Her silver hair fell in a pale curtain over her face. Jon had been told she’d tried to escape on three separate occasions. As the cell door swung shut behind him with a heavy groan, he didn’t expect she’d try again.
“Funny we should keep happening upon each other in this place.” Jon japed, placing the cup and bowl in the centre of the room. He took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, giving her space. The Valyrian woman lifted her head slightly and fixed Jon with her piercing violet eyes.
“It’s yours.” Jon nodded to the food. “I’ve never been a prisoner before, but I imagine it’s hungry work.”
Another stern look. Like a cat, she slowly inched across the floor, reach out and dragged the bowl back towards her shadowed corner. “You’re welcome.” Jon said as she took small bites from the cheese.
Her eyes drifted down from Jon’s face to his sword as it hung from his belt. Her thoughts were clear. She was weighing the possibilities of taking his sword, using it to take him prisoner and break out. Jon’s hand instinctively went to the hilt, making sure it was still there. Sure enough, he felt the comforting warmth of the enchanted Valyrian steel sword.
“That wouldn’t be a very good idea…” Jon said as he slowly drew the blade from it’s weirwood sheath. She tried to hide it, but the woman’s shoulders tensed and her empty hand clenched into a fist. “This sword is called Passion.” Jon said as he slowly waved the blade in the air in front of him, the artistic High Valyrian script glowing orangey-red in the dark, glinting off the silver dragon wings that formed the guard.
“It’s Valyrian, like you… I don’t even know how long my family’s been in possession of this sword.” Jon let go of the sword as it began to float in front of him, turning slowly in the air. “It’s enchanted to obey my commands.” With a sudden burst of speed the blade found it home in the weirwood sheath again. “And only my commands.”
His words were met with steely silence as the woman gritted her teeth and continued to eat. “If you start to talk, I could have your accommodation improved.” It was an old and tired promise, and one she wasn’t taken in by.
“What about your dragon?” Her eyes flicked up for a moment. Jon saw concern, and a hint of fear.
So that is the path to take?
The notion didn’t surprise him too much. The bond between a dragon and their rider was an incredibly deep and intimate one. He would certainly worry for Moonhowler if he were captured.
“You need not worry.” Jon said evenly. “Your dragon is safe and cared for.” And kept docile by a strong combination of some of the best Wargs and strongest spells the Starks had. “You should be proud, she is a beautiful dragon. If you tell us what we want to know, maybe I can let you see her…” The woman seemed to wrestle with the thought for a moment, then looked to the side impassively.
“You do not make this easy.” Jon said, looking at his boots. “There are those who lack my patience. They say waiting for you to talk is taking too long and that compelling you to talk would be much simpler.”
“I do not fear pain.” Her voice was like ice. Jon’s head shot up to see her looking up at him, her face bathed in the pale grey light streaming from the window. It was certainly progress.
“Tell me about Lord Tywin.” Jon crouched down to her level, hopeful that her damn had broken and more words would flow. “His dragons?” Jon’s voice was met with a cold silence that fell between them. And Jon’s hopes of dissuading Tetra fell with it.
Like a portent of doom, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Tetra in her black and red silk dress. The Valyrian woman rose to her feet, clutching the wooden bowl in hand as it was the only thing resembling a weapon she had.
“I’ve given you long enough.” Tetra glanced at Jon before turning to the prisoner. “Now you can make this easy, or you can make this h-!” Before she could finish, the woman hurled the bowl at Tetra’s head.
The witch slapped it away with ease then pushed her hand out, forcing the silver haired woman flat against the wall with an unseen force. She strained against Tetra’s magic, but to no avail. Still holding her hand out, Tetra strode over to the prisoner and placed a finger to her own lips.
“Shhhhhh.” She said, her spell took hold and the Valyrian woman flopped unconscious.
“Was the mummery necessary?” Jon asked, hand resting on his belt as Tetra moved the prisoner over to her bedroll and sat beside her head.
“Always.” The witch responded. “Now come lie down next to me, there’s a good pup. You’ll have to be the one to sift through her memories.” Looking into the mind of another was incredibly difficult to do, but there were ways. A mage could be a conduit between two minds, connecting them together. Protecting one mind but not the other. Jon grumbled and did as he was told.
“Now you will be able to perceive what she has perceived, even if she doesn’t remember it.” Tetra explained as Jon lay down on a patch of dry straw.
“I am ready.” He said.
Tetra’s hand was on his head, her fingers lacing through his hair. Then Jon knew only blackness. Suddenly his world was filled with light and sound. Images swirled around him and blinding speeds. So fast that Jon felt his mind might be shredded into a thousand tiny pieces. He’d heard stories about that happening to people in the past. A searing hot pain shot through Jon’s skull, like a flaming axe have cleaved it in two.
Breath… Jon heard a voice. One he recognised. Tetra!I have you. He heard it again. Only a moment more!
Jon’s world was still again.
Then it came to him. A girl being born, a babe coming screaming into the world, hearing her mother’s voice.
Men in golden armour taking a babe with silver hairs from her screaming mother’s arms, slitting her throat as they left. After that it was mostly darkness. She was somewhere deep underground.
There were others. Dozens of other children. Some with silver hair, some with purple eyes, some with both, some with neither.
They were taught to fight, to speak, read and write. First in the Common Tongue, then High Valyrian. Always underground, the only light being from torches, never seeing the sun.
When she was five, she saw a man who Jon could only guess was Tywin Lannister. He was younger, his head had not lost it’s hair. He brought dragon eggs before them in great iron chests. Jon couldn’t even count how many eggs there were. Tywin told the children that eventually those eggs would hatch dragons for them to claim.
There was a magic ritual. The girl was sitting in a circle as men chanted around her in a circle of fire. The fire was almost too hot to bare, but eventually the egg hatched in her arms and her dragon crawled out.
Jon felt an all encompassing love consume him. The girl had never known love before that moment. The time after that began to blur. More training. More practicing. Always trying to earn Tywin’s approval as he loomed over them. They were forced to fight each other. Those that did not fight were beaten to death by men in gold armour as they were forced to watch.
After that came her happiest moment, the first time she ever saw the open sky.
They were only ever allowed outside at night, and even then only to practice flying over the sea, in the shadow of the great mountain that they lived under. The wind in her hair was freezing as she took to the skies for the first time was the first taste of freedom she ever had.
She could nearly forget the mages sitting behind her on the dragon, hiding them from any who might see and making sure she would return when called. She chose her name after that night.
Tywin had never given them names.
Dāezara
The High Valyrian word for freedom.
After that came more training, more drilling. Absolute loyalty to Tywin Lannister above all being hammered into them night and day. It went by faster and faster until they got to the battle of the Kingsroad.
At that point Jon was pulled from Dāezara’s mind like a fish caught on the line. The next thing he knew, he was lurching up from the cell floor with a shout, Tetra panting behind him from the effort of holding the spell for so long.
“Gods…” Jon heard her utter. “I need a good hard fucking after that…”
Jon turned around in surprise, seeing her face damp with sweat. “…That an offer?”
Tetra laughed. “Oh no… I prefer men with several decades more experience than you.”
They both rose from the floor and left the cell, Dāezara still asleep where they left her. “She will wake soon enough.” Tetra said when she saw Jon gazing at the sleeping prisoner as the cell door closed and they walked on, leaving Alfred with the guards. “Don’t feel sorry for her.”
“She has never been given a choice.” Jon did feel a stirring of sympathy for the girl. The closest thing she had ever had to a father had been Tywin Lannister.
Tetra shrugged. “Few ever are.”
“Now I am more convinced I will be able to persuade her to turning her cloak.”
Tetra swatted him on the back of the head. “Must I examine your head, boy?” She rounded on him. “I don’t know what you saw in her thoughts, but I saw that she’s been conditioned to be loyal to Tywin Lannister above all.”
“I saw a yearning for freedom.” Jon responded. “She and all her siblings serve Lord Tywin out of fear, but deep in her heart, she wishes to stand in the sun and be able to decide for herself without anyone watching over her.”
Tetra pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “That girl would burn you, me and all our armies if Tywin ordered her to.”
Jon decided to change the subject. “Did you see how many dragons they have?” Many of the images had blurred together. All Jon could guess were a few score eggs had been stolen by Tywin’s men.
“A few dozen, at least.” Tetra hummed. “Tywin must have had his men steal as many dragon eggs as they could when they sacked King’s Landing.”
“And cause the dragons to escape to hide the evidence.” Jon agreed. His father had told him of Tywin’s sack of the capital in the closing days of the Rebellion. Lannister men had stormed the Dragon pit, supposedly in an effort to secure the Targaryen dragons. Some had gotten loose and attacked everything in sight, destroying parts of the dragon pens and killing hundreds. Many eggs had been lost, assumed destroyed by the rubble and the rampaging beasts. At least that was what Lord Tywin had reported to his father and Robert Baratheon when he had met with them.
“He must have been taking the Mad King’s bastards for years.” Tetra thought aloud. “It makes sense… He was Hand, he would have known Aerys’ movements. Perhaps he had even been ordered to… dispose of unwanted bastards by the king himself.”
Jon grimaced. From the tales of the Mad King, he found it difficult to doubt he would have ordered the deaths of his children. Bastards perhaps, but still his own blood. “So with one hand he pilfered Targaryen babes and the other, he took Targaryen dragons.” Even Jon had to admit it was a good plan. A terrible act for a certainty. But still a sound strategy.
“Long had Tywin desired dragons for his house.” Tetra said. “Finally he decided he would not wait to be given them.”
The pair had stopped walking aimlessly through the corridors of Riverrun as she had been doing. They stood by a large stained glass window that looked over the Tumblestone, their wolves and Toothless sat a few feet back from them.
“He must have more.” Jon said finally. “Mayhaps at Casterly Rock.”
“As shrewd a man as Tywin is, he would have sent them to reinforce King’s Landing.” Tetra corrected him. Just then, a door at the other end of the corridor opened and Cleaton Snow walked through it.
“Just who I was after.” He said when he saw Jon. Tetra had her back to Cleaton, so he didn’t see her rolling her eyes as he walked towards them.
“Is there something I can do for you, cousin?” Jon asked courteously. The man was a bore, but he was a bore with the second biggest dragon the Starks had. Cleaton eyed Tetra curiously, perhaps spending a moment too long on the woman’s prominent bust and rear before turning to Jon.
“I’ve been thinking…” Cleaton began. “I ride the biggest dragon in the Stark army,” Second biggest “And I am the son of your father’s older brother.” He continued. “We should join our family lines.” The bastard seemed proud of himself for that.
Jon clenched his jaw. “…Excuse me?”
“Join our family lines.” Cleaton repeated. “I should marry your sister. You know, the pretty ginger one with the big tits- Sensa?”
“…Sansa.”
“That’s the one.”
“You… want to marry Sansa?”
“It would make sense, and put an end to all the rumours about the succession.”
“…Succession?”
“Many are saying I deserve to be the heir as my dragon is the biggest and I’m the elder son’s heir.” Cleanton said, raising his hands up. “Not me though. But I have heard men in the camps saying it.”
Jon didn’t quite know how to start. He tried to find the words that might not offend the man. It was proving a difficult task. “I… uh…”
Tetra burst out laughing. Hysterically. Clearly that caught Cleaton by surprise.
“Have I said something funny, wench?”
“Yes!” Tetra tittered breathlessly. “You thought they might marry a Stark to a runt like you? That’s the best jape i’ve heard in years.”
Cleaton shifted uncomfortably and clenched his jaw. “I ride a dragon, you can’t speak to me like that.” He said through gritted teeth.
With a flick of the witch’s wrist, she sent him into the wall and held him there with an invisible force.
“Tetra!” Jon reprimanded her as Cleaton grunted, trying to move.
“I can speak to you however I wish, runt.” She spat venom at the bastard. “You come south stinking of sheep and piss, riding a dragon you are unworthy of and you think that gives you power to make demands of us?” She stepped forward pushing him harder against the wall. “You haven’t even seen battle yet. Prove yourself and maybe you shall be rewarded.” She released him and he stumbled to the floor. “Until then don’t show your face to me, or I shall turn you into a newt.” Then with a swirl of her black and red dress, she turned and began to stride to the other end of the corridor.
“You didn’t need to antagonise him,” Jon hissed as he hurried after her. “We gain nothing angering our dragonriders.”
“That little mongrel thought himself worthy of a Stark.” Tetra’s tone was ice cold. “We should kill him before he starts trouble.”
“That was a poor jest.” Jon responded as they walked into Riverrun’s yard, hoping that she was indeed jesting. Tetra didn’t answer him as they strode towards a collection of wooden benches where men and women were sharpening their weapons in the sun.
Jon noticed Beric was sitting among them with the Witcher Samara and Leonard Dhalark, Uncle Arthur’s squire. Together they were cleaning their swords. Beric had his curved red Uru blade, the Forlorn Hope, across his lap, running an oiled cloth over it with care. Tetra didn’t say a word as she kicked his sword off his lap and practically fell on him in it’s place stretching out to rest her feet on Samara’s knees.
“I want you to ravage me until I can’t remember my name, dears.” She said, brazenly, to the surprised looks of many around them. Beric’s face changed from indignation that she would kick his sword away, to concern for his paramour.
“You been reading minds again?” The grizzled Witcher asked as his hands snaked across her hips.
“Yes.” Tetra rested her head on his shoulder in a show of vulnerability Jon wasn’t used to seeing from her. “You can fuck me here or in our bed, but choose now.”
Beric and Samara’s reaction was nearly instant. They both rose from their bench and began walking out of the courtyard, Beric carrying Tetra in his arms.
“It’s good to see you too, Uncle Beric.” Jon sarcastically said to their backs as they walked away.
“You Starks do love your women.” Leonard chuckled as he polished his blade.
“I suppose you can hardly blame us for that, Lenny.” Jon responded with a smile.
“Speaking of women.” Lenny laid his sword down and stood up. “Lady Genna arrived earlier, she has news from home.”
“What kind?” Jon asked, though his mind was mainly focusing on the idea of getting the Ryder matriarch into his bed again.
“The good kind, but she also asked after you.” Lenny gave a knowing smile.
Jon felt his blood begin to run hot. “In that case I shouldn’t keep her waiting.” As he walked away, he heard Lenny mutter. “You Starks…” under his breath.
Knowing Genna as well as he did, Jon imagined she would go to the infirmary first to see her injured son. Ygritte and Val had been sitting by their brother’s bedside night and day after the battle beside the Greenfork. Thankfully Tytos’ arm was healing, but there was only so much one could do against dragonfire.
Jon came upon Genna as she was leaving the infirmary. She was a vision of Lannister beauty, even as her eyes had been reddened by tears.
“Gods,” She exclaimed when she saw him. “I’m glad you are well Jon. And your father.” She drew him into a tight embrace, pressing her whole body against his.
“As am I, my Lady.” Jon wrapped his arms around her waist. “You saw Tytos?” Genna gripped him a little tighter. “He is a strong man.” Jon tried to reassure her. “He heals fast.” She didn’t need to know that they had to cut off the armour that had fused to his skin under the dragon’s flames.
“I know…” Genna finally said when they pulled apart. “I know…” She collected herself, dabbing her eyes then addressed Jon fully. “There have been Ironborn attacks on the Western coast, the vast majority of which were repelled.”
“Gods damn...” Jon ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The last thing the North needed was to have to fight on another front. He remembered the smirking worm of a Greyjoy that was a friend of Joffrey’s. Theon. The Lannisters must have made common cause with the Greyjoys against the North.
“The majority were rebuffed.” Genna repeated. “And those that weren’t have managed to achieve little and less.”
“Does Robb know?”
“He was my first stop.”
“Good.”
“They attacked Rydertown too.” Genna reported. “A hundred Ironborn ships. They filled the harbour.” Jon knew it was far from the first time the western gate of the Great Canal had been attacked. He’d lost count of all the fleets that had broken upon it’s walls like waves on a beach. Given Genna’s demeanour, he imagined this attack was much the same.
“We had ten of those large Thunderers that those dwarves from the Engineer’s Guild gave us.” Genna informed him. “They reduced the Ironborn fleet into kindling. Barely thirty of their ships managed to get away. My Lord husband has ordered a hundred more to fortify our city.”
Ten Thunderers helping sink seventy ships was certainly and impressive figure. Jon imagined the reaction of the Greyjoys to their black powder weapons was similar to the Lannister one: Panic followed by death.
“Your Lord husband has secured a great victory for the North.” Jon stated. “We shall honour him when we return.”
“He shall be glad to hear that.” Genna smiled, then looked to the side. “I had thought I might visit Myrcella now that she has come North, and see my brother and nephew in their cells after seeing Tytos…” she said, before bringing him close again. “But now that I see you again after so long, a question forms in my mind.”
Jon leaned in closer to her, knowing what she meant. “Care to ask it?”
“Are my daughters performing their wifely duties to you satisfaction, my Prince.” Genna asked innocently.
“They are divine.” Jon said. “But I do feel there’s something missing…”
“Perhaps I might be of assistance?” Genna pressed her massive breasts against his chest, rose to her tiptoes and gave Jon a deep, sensual kiss.
“I’ve missed your body...” Jon groaned as he ran his hands over her wide hips.
“I’ve missed your cock.” Genna laughed. “And I know the perfect place to reacquaint myself with it.”
Genna lead him through Riverrun’s corridors and out into the the godswood. It was quiet and deserted there, the tree branches mostly covering the view of the sky. It would be far from the first time Jon had fucked her in a godswood, some of his best memories were of fucking her in the pools of Rypeak’s castle godswood when he had been fostered with the Ryders for a time.
Their steps were quick as Genna lead Jon by his breeches to the slender weirwood that was Riverrun’s heart tree. The pair quickly disrobed, not needing to talk to understand each other. Jon took the opportunity to admire Genna’s ample curves as she shimmied out of her dress. Her huge bosom bounced delightfully under his gaze, her tiny pink nipples had formed hardened points in the open air.
When both had fully divested themselves of their attire, they came together in a clash of lust and flesh. Their mouths met with breathy moans of desire. Jon felt Genna’s hands caressing the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair, he had other targets in mind. One of his hands went to Genna’s massive behind, squeezing her fleshy cheeks and pulling her body close to him. The other hand went to her breast, cupping the mammary and pinching her nipple.
Their frenzied kissing and groping lasted for some time, their tongues writhing together as their fingers danced across their bodies. Genna had to raid on her toes and lift her head up to kiss him now, Jon mused to himself. He remembered a time when he had been shorter than her.
Eventually Genna began to manoeuvre Jon backwards into the tree, he let her as she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to sit on the tree’s roots. She stood above him then, hand on her hip, green eyes burning with desire, locked on his achingly hard cock.
“It seems my daughters have left you wanting, my Prince…” Genna said seductively as she slowly lowered herself to her knees between Jon’s legs.
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to pick up their slack?” Jon smiled, placing his hands behind his head as he leaned back, ready to enjoy the view he knew was coming.
Genna smirked. “Of course…” She placed a hand on the base of his cock. Her fingers couldn’t reach the whole way around. Her hands were hot to the touch, Jon’s cock thrumbed as she held him tight. “Such an impressive specimen as this deserves hourly relief.”
With that, Genna placed her other hand on Jon’s thigh and leant forwards to take the head of Jon’s cock into her mouth. He closed his eyes, groaning at the sensations of her suckling on him as her tongue rand around his cock with practiced ease. Her hand slowly began to rub up and down his length as she sucked on him.
Genna’s position on her knees afforded Jon an excellent view of her body. Her breasts hung from her chest, pressing against his thighs and her arse was in the air, the muscles of her back flexing to keep balance as she bobbed up and down his length. Her mouth had moved past his cockhead now, moving down his shaft, taking him deeper into her mouth.
Jon would freely admit that Genna was a peerless cock-sucker. She had enthusiasm, experience and skill. He had lost track of how many hours she had spent in his room, bringing him to climax after climax with only her mouth.
After a while longer Genna took her hand off his thigh and wrapped it around his shaft as well. Jon could tell she was entering her more serious phase of oral pleasure. The gagging sounds became louder and her movements became quicker, her golden hair bouncing almost as much as her monumental breasts.
A thrum of pleasure went through Jon’s loins as the pressure built higher and higher. Genna’s tight throat and massaging his cock in the most delicious ways, begging him to bless it with his seed as he had done so many times before to Genna and her daughters.
Jon gazed into her bright green eyes as he brushed a golden lock from her face. They were wide and watery as she’d not come up for air yet, a red flush creeping up from her chest to her face. Jon threaded his hands through Genna’s hair and began to move her head up and down his shaft.
She eagerly surrendered to his control.
Her body was limp in his hands as Jon ploughed the throat of his good-mother. Without his aide, she had only been going half way down his shaft, with his help she was surpassing two thirds of it. Her plump lips spread wide to accommodate him as her eyes rolled back.
Her hands had made their way to her cunt. She was playing with herself as he used her. The thought made Jone even harder. His balls were slapping her chin before long, echoing out through the quiet wood, accompanied by Genna’s gagging and Jon’s occasional groans.
“What a whore you are.” Jon grunted as he thrust deep into her mouth. Genna could only hum in agreement. “But good whores get what they deserve.” Jon groaned, before his cock pulsed, then again and again.
His cock sent rope after rope of his seed near directly into Genna’s stomach. To her credit, the woman barely gagged on her meal. She sealed her lips to the flesh of Jon’s cock and sucked on him for the entire duration of his climax. Jon leaned forward and brought his hand down hard on her arse, a loud smack rang through the air as Genna moaned wantonly.
“Gods… it’s always so much.” Genna choked when she lifted off his cock, wiping her mouth of his seed that had spilled from her plump lips. “It’s a wonder you didn’t get Val and Ygritte pregnant before you married them.” She licked her fingers, smirking at him.
“It certainly wasn’t from a lack of trying on their part.” Jon chuckled. The twins were as wanton and lusty as their mother.
“I should hope so.” Her eyes fell to Jon’s cock, still achingly hard in spite of just giving Genna her biggest meal of the day. “It seems my task is not yet done.”
“Much to your dismay, I’m sure.” Jon smiled as Genna took his cock in and, rose up and sheathed it within her as she sat on his lap. Her eyes fluttered as she felt his cock stretch her cunt to it’s liking. Jon’s hands instinctively went to her wide, fleshy hips.
“I never want to get used to the feeling of you inside me.” Genna moaned as she leant against Jon, her hands on his shoulders. “So sooo good…”
Jon felt the muscles of her womanhood squeeze his cock, bathing it in warm wetness. “Your cunt is enough to drive men mad.” He grunted as he raised his hips, plunging deeper into Genna.
“Fuck!” She moaned quietly. Then she began to collect herself as she acclimated to being stretched by Jon’s cock after a time away from it.
Genna straightened up and presented her enormous breasts to Jon with a seductive look, then she began to ease her hips back and forth. His eyes were fixed to Genna’s breasts as she rocked back and forth on his cock, drawing lowed moans and high squeaks from the back of her throat. It was barely a minute before Jon’s mouth latched to one of her nipples and began to suck on it greedily.
“That’s it!” Genna moaned, riding Jon with more gusto, loud slapping of her arsecheecks on his thighs echoing out. “My bosom is yours. My cunt is yours. My body is yours!”
Genna was falling deeper into the throws of pleasure. Jon was ravaging her for all her worth, and she wanted to be ravaged. He was in a paradise all his own. Genna’s tight and needy cunt massaged and coaxed every ounce of pleasure it could from his cock while her huge breasts filled his view. They were some of the largest breasts Jon had ever seen let alone enjoyed. They were even larger than Val’s pregnancy swollen breasts.
Leaving his lovers breasts, Jon raised his eyes to Genna’s face as it contorted in pleasure. He gripped her hair in a way that sent a shiver through her body and looked into her eyes. They were hazy and clouded with pleasure as Jon thrust up into her. Jon spat into her wide open mouth as she moaned his name, she gulped it down greedily.
“You’re my whore.” Jon grunted, thrusting faster and faster into her.
“Yes!” Genna cried, her pleasure leaking from her cunt around his cock, bathing him in warmth.
“I’m your whore! I love you! YOU’RE MY FAVOURITE LOVER!” with her last confession, Genna’s eyes fluttered shut as she was torn through a shivering full body climax apthat shook her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
Every inch of fleshy goodness on her body shook as she rode Jon. The woman lost all control over her body as she shook and wailed. She knew only pleasure as Jon ploughed her, ripping the ever-higher notes of her climax from her mouth like it was an instrument of pleasure.
As the aftershocks of pleasure reverberated through Genna’s body, Jon pushed her into her back and mounted her. “I think it’s time you had a rest.” Jon grinned. “Lie back and enjoy yourself.”
Genna’s eyes instantly rolled up into her head as he rammed every inch his foot long cock the whole way into her cunt. “Fuck!!!” The Lannister woman howled in pleasure.
Her body instantly succumbed to him again, her cunt eagerly accepting his cock as it plundered her depths again and again without restraint or resistance. Genna’s legs and arms wrapped around Jon’s back and held on for dear life.
“Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods!” She whimpered weakly as Jon slammed every inch of his cock into her again and again.
Jon placed his hands beside her head on the grass to hold him up as he ploughed her. Genna’s eyes had glazed over in pleasure. He was forcefully drawing every ounce of erotic pleasure from her volumputous body.
Her words were an inchoherant babble about his cock and how much she love it and him. Jon’s weight pinned her hard to the grassy ground as he thrust deep into her intent on breeding his good-mother. It didn’t take long before her next climax ripped through her, then her next and the next.
Jon silenced her screaming voice with his a kiss, dominating her mouth with his own as his cock dominated her cunt. Their limbs wrapped around each other as the world fell away around them. There was no war to wage, no kings to topple. There was only them and their lovemaking. Their incessant need to fuck.
“I’m going to fuck you forever.” Jon growled as she squealed in climax her body arching up to him suddenly, pushing her breasts up. Jon was never a man to turn down an opportunity and he began to ravage her bosom as he ravaged her cunt.
Genna was weeping from pleasure when Jon finally filled her cunt with his seed, triggering another climax from her as she felt Jon’s throbbing cock fill her womb with his seed.
That was far from the end of their session. Jon ravaged his lover like a wolf, taking her again and again. He filled every hole she had to offer. And she offered them gladly. It was many hours before Jon left the godswood, going in search of his brother. While fucking Genna had been a most enjoyable experience, Jon knew he really needed to be available if something were to happen and Robb needed him.
He found Robb talking in the main hall with Lord Hornwood, Greywind curled up by the fire. “It’s an inconvenience, but it’s the truth.” Lord Hornwood said as Jon walked in. “The men are growing restless. They’re at war and if they have no enemy to fight, they will find one, your Grace.”
“Trouble?” Jon asked as he leant on a long table.
“Not much of one, Prince Jon.” Lord Hornwood bowed slightly. “I was taking reports of brawls breaking out here and there around the camps.”
“I would have thought our lords more than capable of keeping their men disciplined.” Jon crossed his arms.
“And we do.” Lord Hornwood straightened up. “But we can only do so much. These men are far from home and ready to fight. I say again if they cannot find an enemy they will make one from their friends.”
“Anyone dead?”
“No, thank the Gods.” Lord Hornwood answered. “But the longer we stay idle, the chances of deaths grow.”
“The men aren’t the only ones who are restless.” Robb finally said, fingers drumming the table. “Father is to the south and in his absence, I have the command.”
“And what do you command, brother?” Jon asked.
Robb rose from his seat with a smile, reaching across the table for a map of the Westerlands. “That we not sit idle.”
—————————
Ned
They were back at the lake they had rested at on the journey south. Little had changed, save their added passenger and the more somber mood. Their dragons and wolves were drinking side by side from the waters as Ned, Sansa and Aly Snow stood together.
“His own brother?” Sansa was aghast, her face pale.
“There is little the Gods despise more than a kinslayer.” Aly spat.
I am sorry Robert, your brothers would not listen to me.
“It was Dark sorcery.” Ned said. “We will have to double our protection barriers when we return to camp.”
Aly glowered. “His red woman. She’s trouble, no doubt.”
“She certainly has power.” Ned agreed. “Power that Stannis is using to further his claim.”
“What will this mean for Renly’s army now?” Sansa asked. “For his former Queen?”
“The Stormlords will flock to Stannis, that’s a certainty.” Ned scratched his chin. They knew him and knew that he was aware how much he needed them, no matter their loyalties to Renly. “The Reach? I doubt it. They besieged Stannis for a year and he never yielded to them, not even as he starved. He will not forget that, and they know it.”
“So they retreat to Highgarden?” Aly asked.
“Some - the Florents - might join Stannis, but the bulk of the Reachmen will head back south.” Ned reckoned.
“Or join the Lannisters…” Sansa suggested.
“Don’t tempt the fates.” The Gods knew the Lannisters didn’t need more help.
“It strikes me you went south to find a King to bend your knee to.” Aly quirked her eyebrow at Ned. “And come back with none. All that’s left is your son and he’s already offered you his crown.”
“We’ll have no talk of that at present.” Ned told her. He could only focus on so many things at once.
“As you command, your Grace…”
“What of Brienne?” Sansa asked.
The blonde warrior was standing away from them, kneeling by the lake, gazing at Renly’s sword. She had said little during the flight other than a small thank you. “I would go to Storm’s End.” Brienne stated, clearly she could hear them the whole time.
“To die?” Aly asked.
“To kill Stannis.”
“He is surrounded by too many swords.” Ned said. “I was there when Renly died. There was nothing more you could have done. He would not want you to get yourself killed for his memory.” That last part was probably a lie. Ned knew Renly and he was certainly the sort that liked the idea of people valiantly dying for a fallen leader. Not him though. Other people would do the dying.
“I would bring justice to a kinslayer and kingslayer, both.” She rose to her feet defiantly.
“You would die before you ever saw Stannis. He would never even have to learn your name.”
“Think, girl.” Alys said. “The man has a dragon and Foebreaker. You’re good with a blade but few are that good.”
Brienne looked crestfallen. “If I cannot avenge my King then what am I? What could I do?”
“You could serve the Starks.” Aly suggested. “You’d be hard pressed to find finer masters. They will treat you fairly and with honour.”
The large woman seemed to think on Aly’s words. “You saved my life, why?”
“You were innocent and I had the power to help you.”
“If the time came when I might deal out justice on Stannis, would you hold me back?” She asked Ned.
“Only if it would destroy a peace.” Ned admitted. His honesty seemed to be accepted.
“Then my sword is yours.” She laid it at Ned’s feet and knelt, swearing oaths of fealty that Ned had heard a hundred times or more.
The hour wast late and their dragons were tired, so they decided to make camp for the night. It was the hour of the Wolf when Ned heard a sound that roused him from his bedroll. Choking, then a hard crack of wood.
Ned emerged from his small tent to see Aly Snow standing over a red robed figure splayed out on the ground, her cane in hand.
“Icewing heard her sneaking up on us.” She stated, turning over the unconscious body.
Ned was shocked to see Stannis’ red woman in his camp.
—————————
Robb
Robb and Jon took a portion of their force from Riverrun two days later, marching towards the Westerlands. They were four dragonriders leading a fully mounted army. Robb had decided to take Cleaton and Dagmer with them as their rode the two biggest dragons.
It took them two days to reach the Golden Tooth and less than two hours to take it. In spite of the keep’s size, it was a strong castle, difficult for a force of any size to take. Unfortunately for them, Robb had dragons and they did not. Harren the Black showed how well a castle might do against them.
The Lefford lady yielded the castle to them as soon as their dragons flew over head. Their army camped there only for a night, but was more than enough time for Robb and Jon to give the lady of the castle a proper reward for yielding so quickly.
After the lady surrendered her cunt, she surrendered much information to the twins. She told them of Stafford Lannister’s encampment, that it was near the village of Oxcross and that it’s defences were likely poor. All she asked for in return was that one of them ploughed her arsehole while the other used her throat. They happily obliged her.
Plans of attack were drawn and they rode out to face the Lannister army.
It was the hour of the wolf when they made their move. The Lannisters had sent out few scouts as they thought themselves protected in the Westerlands. The dragons would hit them first, causing panic and mayhem, using ice walls to block the Lannister men in. Then the cavalry would come in behind to mop up the disarrayed troops.
Robb knew there was a likelihood of magically hidden dragons but none bad been seen by their warg scouts. The camp was on the side of a rocky hill in sight of Oxcross, a shallow river ran from their position to the Lannister camp.
Seeing a nod from Jon, Robb knew all were ready for the attack. He signalled the horns to blow as he urged Gnasher into the sky, the other dragons following. Grey wind leant his voice to the low droning of the horns, filling the night sky with a deafening sound.
It took barely a few moments for the dragons to reach the camp. Seeing them through Gansher’s eyes, Robb guessed there was around ten thousand of them. Some were running frantically between the tents, rousing the men as their enemy approached.
They looked like ants.
Gnasher, Moonhowler, Snowfall and Behemoth flew side by side over the camp. Together all four dragons rained ice-cold death on the men below. Scores of tents were frozen solid in moments. The biting wind whirled around them as they circled the camp for another pass. Robb heard Cleaton whooping loudly as he saw the destruction his dragon wrought.
Four columns of northern cavalry struck the camp like the fist of an angry god. One on either side of the river and the other two circling around the take the camp in the flanks. Shouts of pain and warhorns and the rending of steel filled the air.
That was when Robb saw it.
There was a reason the camp had few defences they could see. At the top of the hill, away from the encampment, fifty Luminarks had just been uncovered and were preparing to fire in their direction, golden energies coalescing around them.
“SCATTER!” Robb shouted over the wind, as he swerved Gansher into a dive towards the ground.
Jon banked right, making Moonhowler fold his wings, falling into a roll through the air. Dagmer and Cleaton were a different story, they were the less experienced dragonriders. Behemoth’s bulk prevented him from moving with much swiftness. Cleaton, to Robb’s dismay, went charging straight at the group of Luminarks.
Dozens of beams of shining gold light erupted from the hillside. Some arched down to the riders on the ground, vaporising them in an instant. Others went after the dragons in flight, three caught Behemoth in the chest, making the great beast roar in pain angrily.
Robb and Jon managed to dodge any beams that came their way. Cleaton, being much closer, caught the most golden rays. Some struck Snowfall in the head, temporarily blinding the dragon just as he left out a frozen breath.
Robb watched in horror as Cleaton accidentally cut off a portion of their army from reinforcements with a great wall of ice. The roar of more dragons meant Robb would have to deal with Cleaton’s mistakes later.
—————————
Beric
The night was cold and dark as they prepared for the battle. The steam from the breaths of horses and men formed a thin mist around them as they stood hidden among the trees. Beric was leaning against a tree by the shallow river, running his hand through Roach’s fur. The great grey-black direwolf was restless, he knew a battle was coming.
He’d already seen too many.
Tetra pulled up next to him on the back of Moon-Eyes. Gone were her fine silks, now she wore a red and black Gambeson and breeches, with a black Uru chainmail shirt, her bow slung over her shoulder.
“Any nerves before the fight?” Beric chuckled as he eyed one of his paramours. The last true battle she had been in was during the War of the Nine Penny Kings, decades before many of the people standing around them were born. She looked about to respond with a no-doubt witty barb when Samara sidled up beside her.
“I think we fucked all the jitters out of her earlier.” She laughed. Beric joined her.
Before they could continue, the signal to mount up made it’s way through the army. The time for idle talk was done. Beric climbed into his saddle and donned a wolf’s head helmet. He felt the Folorn Hope vibrating in it’s sheath, humming in anticipation of the coming tide of blood. The blade was thirsty.
“Do try not to die, both of you.” Tetra near whispered to Beric and Samara. “I’d hate to have to resort to necromancy.”
“At least then you’d be able to make us bow to your every whim.” Samara chuckled.
“You do that already.”
The horns sounded, the dragons roared and the wolves howled. Now was the time for the sword and axe. Beric snapped his fingers and the Forlorn Hope flew out of it’s scabbard and into his hand, the red Uru blade glittered in the moonlight. Uru had a certain beauty to it. The metal looked and felt more like polished marble than steel, with veins of colour snaking across it’s surface. The sounds of ringing metal filled the air as hundreds of Uru blades were drawn.
Beric urged Roach forward at a trot to begin with, as the dragons flew overhead. His paramours, his loves, fell in beside him. Behind them came the others. They followed the path of the river towards the Lannister camp, making their way through the trees that covered their approach.
Twenty heart beats later they quickened their pace. Another thirty and Beric quickened again. Before long they left the cover of the trees at a full gallop. The direwolves having to restrain themselves from easily outpacing the horses.
Thundering hooves and shouting men and warhorns were all Beric heard when he lead the charge into the Lannister camp. The first strafe of the dragons had been a success from what he could see scores of men and tents were frozen solid. The Lannisters barely had a few lines of spears to slow their charge.
Roach let out a fearsome snarl as he launched himself at the nearest Lannister, tearing their head off. A steel pike would have scraped along Beric’s armour if he hadn’t batted it away with the blade of his sword then brought it down on his attacker, cleaving through metal and flesh and bone.
Their column of riders thundered through the meagre Lannister defences, cutting down all in their path. Beric could see their other columns of riders dashing round and hitting the camp on it’s other sides. He raced ahead on top of Roach, charging to the centre of the camp.
Beric’s hand gripped the dragon’s-tooth hilt of his sword tightly as he beheaded a troll that thought to deter him. All the blood he spilled was being greedily consumed by the Forlorn Hope. The Red Uru blade drew the blood of it’s victims into itself, growing in power and desire for more.
The bloodlust was on him, or maybe it was Roach’s. It mattered not, both man and wolf slaughtered their way through the camp. Men fought them and fell, or they ran and fell. A Warrior Priest knocked Beric off Roach as he fired a tent, Beric ended up ripping the man’s throat out with his fangs.
A man in black armour, with a Jast banner on his surcoat thought he might end the old Witcher then, running at him mace and shield raised, shouting at the top of his lungs. Just as the Jast was about to strike, Beric feinted left then side-stepped to the right, turned on his heel and brought his sword cutting down on the Jast’s shoulder.
It cut all the way down to his waist. A fountain of warm crimson erupted from the lord’s body, painting Beric’s armour red. He tasted the iron in the air when he heard it.
Fifty beams of light arched across the sky, coating the battlefield in a harsh white light. For a few moments the darkness of night was chased away before the light died as it chased the dragons through the sky.
“Fucking Luminarks.” Beric swore under his breath. He knew they had to be up the hill, having been camouflaged by their mages. “Fucking Southerners and their fucking Luminarks.”
He watched as his nephews flew across the sky, dodging the coils of light that danced after them. The other two dragonriders were not so lucky. One was struck as it tried to dodge, the other was caught in the face. And for some reason only the Gods knew, breathed a wall of ice along the camp fifty feet behind Beric, cutting him and a great many others off from Stark reinforcements. They were trapped with the Lannisters having been able to form a counter force.
Beric’s rest was ended when two horsemen tried to make him a head shorter. He cut the two horses legs out from beneath them and finished off the two men in short order.
“To me, Roach!” Beric called as his wolf bounded over a tent with a troll arm in his maw, his armour stained red with blood. Beric mounted and rode down the hill cursing his bloodlust. He had over extended his charge and lead his followers too deep into the camp.
He found Tetra in a circle of mounted men, shooting off spells to break the ice wall as Samara ripped the head off a lion and held it aloft, roaring and hitting her chest.
“Can you break through it!?” Beric shouted over the battle as he rode to the circle, right before a group of Lannister lances charged them.
“Give me a fucking moment, love! Would you please!?” Tetra shrilly responded to him, fire streaming from her fingers towards the ice. But there was little she could do. It was dragon’s ice. It required dragon’s fire to melt it.
A few dozen Stark riders with a Dustin leading were cutting their way through Lannister men to get to the main group when Beric saw them vaporised in an instant by golden beams of light. Then more came, striking the ground around them, throwing up dust and ash and dirt into the air.
Beric saw his nephews were preoccupied dealing with the Lannister dragons in the sky, they were having much and more trouble dodging the Luminark’s rays. A hail of arrows came on them as the Lannister’s forces manoeuvred around to crush Beric and his comrades against the wall.
“Fuck the ice!” Samara shouted to Tetra, pulling her hand away. “We need to focus on killing the Luminarks!”
“There are too many!” A man with a Karstark surcoat shouted as he held his shield high to block the arrows that fell like rain around them.
“We’re fucking dead either way.” Samara answered him. “But lets take those Seven-worshiping bastards with us!”
“Tetra, clear us space, then we charge!” Beric ordered, Tetra began to move her hands, conjuring a great ball of lightning.
A deafening boom of electric energy cleared their way and Beric lead the charge up the hill with renewed vigour. It was hard fighting and many fell along the way, but through the blood and the death, a few dozen of them made it to the glowing golden barrier that protected the Luminarks.
“Can you break it?” Samara asked Tetra when they reached the barrier, dozens of Septons were on their knees on the other side, their prayers giving the shield strength.
“Shut your tarty mouth and let me work!” Tetra replied as she raised her hands to the sky and began speaking in the Old Tongue.
“O̸̬͂ ̵̡́M̷͇͑á̵̯l̴̞̎p̴̬̄ȟ̶͎ą̷͠s̸̜͌,̶̭̏ ̴̡́b̵̰͒ĕ̵̯v̵͙́i̷̠̊n̶̟͊g̵̤̈e̶̘̔t̸̯̏ ̸̪̂h̸̩́e̶͇̕ř̵̞r̵͚̿e̴̟̿ ̴̱͑a̵̢̿v̴͓̿ ̶̽͜g̷͉͐r̴̮̆å̷͖̍d̸͈̊i̶͙̕g̷͙͌h̷̹́ę̵̄ṭ̶̃,̶͇̐ ̴̼͂M̶̛̯e̵̬͝d̶̪́ ̸̨͘k̶̥̊l̶̗̿ø̷̥̂r̴̼̓ ̷̝̋s̸̥̋å̴̧͌ ̷͉̾s̷͖̍k̴͓͊à̴͓r̴̠̈p̸̮̚e̴͙̚ ̵̺͆ö̴̥g̶̫̓ ̶̣͛ø̴͘͜y̷̞͊n̶̥͌ë̴͍ ̸̦͠s̵̨͑ȏ̷͎m̵̦̂ ̶̬̕s̵̪̍ê̸̤r̸͍͂,̵̜̒ ̶͚͐G̸̺͝i̶̝͠ ̸̝̾m̵̺͗ë̵̜́g̸̪͂ ̶͘ͅk̷̩̏ṛ̶̇ą̸͛f̴͍̀t̶͓͑e̶̦͝n̴̼̐,̴̯̀ ̶̟͑v̴̡̌i̷̫̅l̶͔̔l̵̦͑ ̷̟͆ö̸̞́g̵̅͜ ̴͔̕f̵̗̓r̷̬͋i̷̼͒,̴̘̀ ̷̙̀Ĭ̷̤ ̴͓̔ḍ̴̀ī̶͕t̴̻̓ţ̴̿ ̸̛̫n̵̺͛å̷͍v̸̟̇n̸͈͋,̸̬̇ ̸͉͐s̴̬̏ț̶̛å̷͕̈r̶͕͋ ̵̻̍j̷̖̃ḛ̶̌g̵̪̅ ̸͓̉b̸̨̀e̴̤̽s̸͇̏u̸̢͋d̴͂͜l̷̪̏e̵̳̾ṫ̸̳.̷̘͒ ̴̜̇G̵̦̀j̴̞̓e̸̬̍n̸͎̊n̵̝̚o̸͍̅m̵̳͌ ̸̩́m̷͔̕e̵̬̾g̷̼͊ ̸̢̏s̶̩̐k̶̭̀a̴̻͋l̸̵̘͙̄̊d̷̺͘i̵̬̅ņ̷̂ ̴͍̌ḫ̸͝ṳ̸̿n̸͙͠ǵ̶̝e̴̩͆r̵̘̐ ̵̼̅s̴̨̃v̵̞͗ḛ̵͂ṿ̶͝ḛ̶̂,̵̞̉ ̴̥͗J̶̩̀e̵̺͊g̷̨̿ ̷͕̚e̴̠̿ȑ̷̰ ̸̹̆d̶̗̕í̷͙n̷̙͐ ̵̪̅f̵̰͗ö̶̥́r̸̋ͅ ̶̢̈́ḛ̷͊v̴̝̐i̴̯̎g̶̹͂h̴̝̑e̶̒ͅt̸̼͘ĕ̷͍n̷͖̽!̸̻͝”
Four School of the Lion Witchers tried to fight their way to Tetra, Beric stood in their path. They were quick, but he was quicker and the Forlorn Hope always found it’s mark. The last one was dead before the first even hit the ground.
Taking a look away from the fighting, Beric saw shadows coalescing around Tetra, her skin going paler as ravens began circling above her, her Black Uru choker humming with power. Her chanting seemed to echo with a thousand other voices, reverberating through Beric’s entire being.
Suddenly Beric’s whole world went dark and he heard a deafening scream as Tetra encased the entire group of Luminarks, Septons and their golden shield in a pitch black void. She began to float off the ground as her body tensed, her tongue speaking words in the Old Tongue as if in a trance, her eyes having gone to pure blackness. Her clothes began to turn to black raven’s feathers, then fell away from her porcelain skin, leaving her naked but for her Uru choker.
Beric had little time to admire his lover’s body as he was busy fighting for his life as many comrades fell beside him. A troll was gnawing on Beric’s forearm as he lay in the mud and he stabbed it in the belly when a rush of air passed them by.
Tetra had fallen unconscious, the darkness was gone, leaving only puddles of blood and some scant pieces of twisted metal. Beric smiled in the knowledge that his nephews would win the battle as more and more Lannister troops surrounded them.
—————————
Jon
The battle had been a victory, but a hard-fought one. Both Jon and Robb had dealt with the Lannister dragons before they had been able to do much damage, but Cleaton’s blunder had done more damage by far. He had cut off the vanguard of the Stark forces with his wall and inadvertently given the Lannsters time to form up their lines properly.
Jon sat by Ghost and Toothless as Moonhowler was being tended to by the Druids that rode with them. He had been struck by a few errant beams of the Luminark’s rays. Men were picking through the remains of the battle, seeing what they could take from their fallen foes.
“We have highborn prisoners aplenty.” Jon heard Robb say as he strode across the muddy ground to him. “Crakehalls, Vikarys, Jasts and more Lannisters than I care to name.”
“Though we are not without loses of our own.” Jon said sadly.
Of all that had been trapped beyond Cleaton’s ice wall, only three had returned. Samara had carried a naked and comatose Tetra and Beric’s broken, barely alive body back to camp. Roach, Beric’s wolf had even lost an eye.
The Witcher had been in a cold fury when she dropped off her lovers with the Druids, asking where Cleaton was at that moment. It took everything Jon had to lie, telling her he did not know where the bastard was. Robb had given him a stern talking to after the battle had been won.
Beric and Tetra had been far from the only casualties. Dagmer had broken his arm after falling from his saddle when Behemoth hit the ground. They had also lost a Karstark, a Dustin and a Glover. Many of the lords that rode with them were chomping at the bit for vengeance against the rich and unprotected land that now lay before them after they routed the Lannister host. But they needed to wait a little longer as their army licked it’s wounds for a day or two.
Robb was about to say something when they both heard a shout as someone rushed towards them. “I have been th-truck!” Cleaton yelled as he held a hand over his bleeding lower face. “That Wit-ther bi-th bwoke my nose and knocked out my tooth!”
“Who?” Robb asked.
“Th-amara!” Cleaton spat. “I am a Th-tark and a dwagon-rider! Her puni-th-ment should be death!”
Jon itched his nose. “Death certainly is the penalty for striking that Witcher, Samara Frostclaw is not to be trifled with.”
“I haff a dwagon.” Cleaton answered him. “I’m not to be twifled wiff eeffer. I’ll th-ow her.”
Robb tried to stifle a laugh and smiled. “You’re certainly a brave man, cousin. Samara’s one of the best killers alive. I once saw her kill three men in a tavern with a quill… A fucking quill.”
Cleaton seemed cowed then. He swallowed nervously and wiped the blood from his chin.
“Now we can take this further.” Jon added. “Or we can leave it here. You made a mistake that cost her, and she reacted. Everyone loses something. So everyone is equally unhappy.” Their cousin shifted awkwardly.
“Fine… Th-ay no more about it, eh?”
“You made the right choice.” Robb stated. “That woman would have cut your balls off and fed them to you.”
“And why would you want to die now?” Jon asked. “The whole of the Westerlands are open to us.”