Tywin VII
I raised my glass in salute to Tyrion and Roslin, congratulating the happy couple on the announcement of their impending parenthood, about time Tyrion pupped that delectable little chit of a Frey, who looked none to delighted by the entire affair I could not fail to notice.
Said former Frey chit was the image of Alexandra Dowling, and it had been a tossup between her and 'fair Walda', the later was rather higher on the Frey totem pole but the cute one had been my favourite. Interestingly Tywin had not expressed much interest either way, while he appreciated the dynastic advantages of fair Walda he seemed rather disinterested overall. Probably because he had been planning to wipe out the bulk of the weasels anyway, and the matter of Tyrion's wife was not of huge concern either way. All he cared was that Tyrion put children in her belly, and that they were not 'stunted' as Tyrion was.
As it was Eamon Frey was the presumptive Lord of the Twins now, though he did not have technically the best claim. However he had arrived at The Twins with several hundred Red Cloaks (under the effective command of Genna of course) along with a letter from Edmure Tully according him the title of the Lord of the Twins. Of course this had not had the slightest bit of impact on the chaos that had reigned in the aftermath of the unfortunate accident. Open warfare had broken out between the handful of surviving male Frey's and the too numerous to count minor Houses that had blood ties to the Frey's. Eamon (well Genna really) had imposed a swift end to the fighting, hanging as many of the claimants to the title of Lord of the Crossing as was needed until everyone got the message.
Appeals to Edmure Tully to intervene fell on deaf ears, he was far too busy fucking his new bride, being completely enamoured by her golden cunt and the gold of her dowry no doubt.
He put the fate of the Frey's from his mind, Roslin was a Lannister now, and we both agreed that this was an honour barely deserved by the girl, she was the pick of the sorry bunch of drudges that had the misfortune to be fathered by the late Walder Frey and so should be bloody grateful for what had been bestowed upon her. Not forgetting that she owed her very life to the fact that I chose her as Tyrions bride, and still she seemed to be unable to be anything but a shy and timid mouse. Not forgetting that her marriage meant that Roslin and Tyrion were the heirs to Rosby, a not insubstantial Crownlands seat. Well technically the child in her belly was the heir, but how and ever, House Lannister of Rosby had a nice ring to it, either way, feeling Sansa's arm on mine I put sweet Roslin from my mind.
"I am so happy for Lord Tyrion and Lady Roslin" whispered Sansa in my ear, though I sensed a 'but'.
"But" I whispered in response, pitching my voice so that Sansa could hear me over the hubbub of the meal.
"They do not look happy Tywin, Lady Roslin is trying to look happy at the thoughts of being with child, but she is failing."
"In that you are right my Lady, but the happiness or otherwise of my son is not my concern, only that his wife produces suitable heirs" Ah Tywin, you are always a cunt aren't you?
"And me?" Sansa asked, leaning closer to me, her lips brushing my ear, the tip of her tongue darting out to land a feather light lick on it "is my only role to produce suitable heirs?"
Tywin would no doubt have replied in the positive, but instead I replied "among other things my Lady yes, though you do so enjoy the acts required to make heirs don't you?"
And she did, Sansa had blossomed into a voracious and inventive bed partner, and I was a happy man with the physical aspect of my marriage. Thankfully my, or was it our? Stamina was up to matching that of my teenage wife, for who would have guessed that the red headed wolf girl was a total screamer in bed, and who was not in the slightest bit shy about what she wanted when it came to being intimate.
I, and Tywin were equally happy with Sansa's blossoming in her role as someone we could hand over tasks to and know that they would be completed to our satisfaction, and our wife was an excellent source of Court Gossip, something that might seem trivial but which was interesting enough sometimes to warrant attention and even action on foot of it.
I glanced over at Myrcella, recently returned from Dorne and much more grown up, though somewhat sullen, probably still pining for that Martell drip she thought she was going to marry. She was blossoming into a beautiful young woman, equal if not surpassing her mother at that age, and thankfully lacking any signs of the cuntish stupidity that marred Cersei. I had half a mind to take her under my wing and train her, or at least have Tywin sharpen her mind, in part to make up for the neglect of Cersei at that age.
Though this might completely ruin a sweet natured and kind young girl, Tywin's brand of realpolitik was rather harsh, and certainly not to the taste of most of Westeros. Maybe it would be best leave Myrcella well enough alone, the girl might be better off without the trauma of Tywin schooling her in what he required of her.
But Tywin had plans for her of course, he had intended to use her to wed Harry the Heir and use this to assist in ousting Lyssa Arryn from the Eyrie, but my plan had come to fruition quicker, namely presenting (forged) evidence to the Lords of the Vale regarding Lyssa Arryn and her poisoning of Jon Arryn, along with Littlefingers confession that he fathered Robin Arryn. Thankfully Lyssa had already been so batshit crazy that she had alienated the Lords of the Vale to such an extent that they had deposed her and her whelp of a son, though tragically Lyssa Arryn had fallen through the Moon Door, dragging her son with her in the ensuing commotion.
Such a tragedy, and now Harry the Heir was the Lord of the Vale and the ungrateful prick had rebuffed the offer of Myrcella's hand in marriage, well Tywin was never one to forget or forgive a slight but I managed to convince him that this was only a modest setback and that we had more important issues to deal with. Though Harry the Heir would be dealt with in eventually.
The Vale had been the most pressing threat after the signing of the treaty to end the War of the Five Kings, in fact Tywin had fully suspected Lysa Arryn to unleash the Knights of the Vale the moment she heard of it. Thankfully my missives had been enough to disrupt and distract the Lords of the Vale sufficiently, plus thanks to Tyrion's assiduous digging and Littlefinger's squealing I knew which Houses of the Vale were up to their necks in debt. Raven's and letters to them reminding them of their precarious financial position and the fact that I effectively now held their loans had a remarkably cooling effect on the willingness of the Knights of the Vale to attack what was now a united and at peace realm.
I turned my mind away from the Vale, it was a minor irritant for now and instead pondered the conundrum of Stannis Baratheon, who amazingly had taken off for the North a few scant weeks ago, surely that made no sense? Did it? The North was united now, Robb Stark having made short shrift of the Iron Born, Theon Greyjoy had been given a death according to the 'Old Ways', which involved being tied naked to a weirwood and sliced to pieces slowly, Robb Stark making the first cut himself, and then anyone else who fancied a piece of the squid being allowed to cut him, the only condition being that you did not inflict a mortal wound.
Ramsey Snow had also been dealt with, and on this I had Bryer's assurances that his men had dealt with Ramsey, his men and his hounds, something for which I was very grateful for, you never let mad dogs live, you always put them down. A sentiment that Tywin was in full agreement with me on and when I had shown him the full extent of Ramsey's derangement, oh how Tywin had not liked that scene where Ramsey raped Sansa, oh no, not at all...
"Well father, I believe that I have carried out my duties, now what about yours?" Tyrion burped, interrupted my musings, he was drunk as a skunk, having dived head first into the bottle again, what was wrong with him? I had provided a decent wife for him, cute as a button and curvy enough to distract, along with the Lordship of Rosby, "Tyrion" I growled at him, giving him fair warning to shut up while he was ahead.
Which he ignored, deciding that he should continue to harangue me over my inability to father an heir, Tywin bristled at this, and I was not overly impressed either, so I leaned closer to the drunken little shit and whispered, "another word out of your drunken mouth and I'll have you sent to Dorne in the morning, minus your position as Master of Coin."
Thankfully he got the hint and he slinked off without further comment, though I could see the unsaid question in Sansa's eyes, she wanted to know when I would give her a child. Soon enough, but not yet, she was too young as of yet and I could do without the distraction of children, though noble parents seemed to have little day to day involvement in the rearing of their children. Plus I had no want to ruin her super hot body with a pup just yet, I far was too enamoured of her lithe limbs and taut flesh.
Anyway back to musing and plotting, Stannis would find a united North as opposed to the fractured and devastated kingdom he found in the books, so what was he up to? I had to assume that it was the influence of that Red Witch of his, and I would need to plan accordingly, though what exactly was going to happen was anybody's guess.
The Greyjoys had been delivered a series of defeats at sea but nothing decisive so their temper tantrum was grinding on with little sign of it being resolved one way or the other. All I could hope for was that Euron Greyjoy did not turn up, but I knew that was wishful thinking, a character like that (in the books) was going to have a major, and probably catastrophic part to play. My bad for never properly reading the books or paying attention to what the fan sites had to say about Euron Greyjoy.
"Tywin..." whined Sansa in my ear.
"My Lady?" I asked, Tywin was annoyed at the interruption, but I did not mind.
"You are ignoring me, lost in your thoughts, stop being Hand of the King for a moment, please?"
"Very well" I replied, turning to face my teenage wife, who as ever looked stunning, dressed in one of what had become her signature sheath dresses, her hair done up to expose her long, swan like neck. The dress was pale grey with hints of gold and crimson in the embroidery scattered across its surface.
Sansa gave a little pout before beaming a genuine smile at me, the girl was adorable and sweet natured, but with a sharp enough mind and her experiences had made her nobody's fool. We engaged in small chat and pleasantries, the kind of frivolities that Tywin had utterly no time for, but which I indulged Sansa in on occasion, knowing that she was still only a young girl, for all her being the wife of the Hand and Lady of Casterly rock.
A raven had arrived from Winterfell a few days ago, Robb's wife was with child and Sansa had been delighted with the news, this plus Tyrion's announcement had probably gotten her ovaries in a spasm. He would have to make sure she took her Moon Tea this month, for it was still far too dangerous for her to get pregnant to his mind.
To our great surprise Sansa seemed to have a head for figures and for the rather arcane science of economics, or what passed for economics in Westeros, and she had become fascinated with the experiments in agriculture I had introduced in the Westerlands. So she was busy implementing them on the Kings own demesne outside Kings Landing, though to almightily indifference from the varied Lords, Lordlings and Landed Knights of the Crownlands. Sansa had passed from idle chit chat to enthusing about her latest work on this, apparently the Kings own fields could expect to provide enough food for the entire Royal House Hold with plenty spare to be sold for profit, a notable first in the history of the Royal demesne, which normally was a money pit.
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Sbiper, Oct 31, 2019Report
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Varys III
"It seems I owe you my life Lord Varys" intoned the silver haired girl sitting regally upon the stone bench atop the flight of broad stairs in the room she had taken as her throne room in Mereen.
He gave Danaerys a bow of his head in response, he was still far too busy assessing the girl who would be queen to respond as of yet.
"Master Illyrio speaks highly of you in his letters; indeed he has explained how you assisted him in sheltering my brother and I from the knives of the usurper."
Again he kept his own council and merely bowed in response, his mind poised and calm.
"And yet you served the usurper for all of his reign, likewise you served his bastard first born son, and the current usurper, this bastard child Tommen?"
"I did your Grace, I served until I could serve no more, until my position was untenable and I was forced to flee Westeros and reaffirm my loyalty to the true ruler of Westeros, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name."
Left unsaid was the ignoble fact that he had fled Westeros at the sufferance of Tywin Lannister, he had been in the act of fleeing Kings Landing, and in good time, not in desperate haste to keep his head. And as he traversed the tunnels beneath the Red Keep he had run full tilt into that Sellsword turned knight called Bronn, who with a coterie of Red Cloaks had 'escorted' him to a meeting with the Hand of the King.
The meeting had taken place in the tunnels, in a space barely wider than the normal tunnels, he had been tied to a chair and Lord Tywin had stood off to one side of him, barely in his line of vision, even if he turned his head as far as it would go. A single candle illuminated the space, the Lord Hand stood shrouded in darkness against the wall, and as his men left them to their privacy Lord Tywin said nothing, the silence stretching out, begging to be broken.
He knew what the game was here, so he resolved to say nothing, but it seemed Lord Tywin was equally determined to play this game of silence. And so the minutes dragged on until eventually with a sigh he decided to end this game, "My Lord Hand."
"Lord Varys" replied the Old Lion, his tone dry and seemingly disinterested.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company" Vary replied, deciding that one of his trademark titters was probably out of place given the seriousness of the conversation they were about to have.
"I was quite insulted that before you leave the service of the iron Throne for the service of the Breaker of Chains you did not at least drop by to have a pleasant conversation with me."
'Pleasant conversation' was it, more likely him trying not to scream as his flesh was carved up by the torturers of the Black Cells. "I felt that mayhaps such a conversation might be too trying for the both of us, but I see you are determined to force the issue my Lord Hand."
"Indeed I am, now tell me Lord Varys, what will come of your plans when the lad who thinks he is Aegon Targaryen meets her Grace Danerys Targaryen hrmmm? And what when the lad fails to be able to bond with one of her dragons? What then Lord Varys?"
He kept his mouth shut and his face as calm and unruffled as ever; he would never leave this place alive so there was little point in humouring the old Lion.
"Pity about fake Aegon Varys, the lad will in all likelihood be eaten by one of Danery's dragons, that will rather put a dent in your plans now won't it? She is unlikely to marry him, even if he is not turned into a snack by that trio of fire breathing lizards. For as we both know he's not a Targaryen, a Blackfyre maybe, but not a Targaryen. And you cannot guarantee that he has enough of the blood of old Valyria to enable him to control dragons. Magic Lord Varys, magic was the random variable that you did not account for."
"I will admit I have never had a fondness for magic my Lord Hand" he replied icily, hating the fact that his plans were unravelling. He had hoped to flee to Essos and see what could be rescued of his plans, Danerys birthing dragons had upset everything. And damm the oh so smug, oh so superior old Lion, for being right.....
"No, ever since a sorcerer cut off you manhood and fed it to the flames you have had a well cultured dislike for magic. Unfortunately for all of us, and you in particular magic is making a comeback, and we will all have to learn to deal with it."
"Alas, I fear others will have to deal with the consequences of magic my Lord, I doubt I will have the time left to me to have to confront magic in all its devious ways."
"Maybe, maybe not Lord Varys. Your plans were to have Danerys return as the Queen to your fake Aegon, who has been coached and trained oh so carefully by Lord Jon Connington. The pair of you, and that fat cheesemonger from Pentos planned to put the 'perfect Prince' on the Iron Throne, and that is what you have been working towards for many the year. But that plan is in tatters, you cannot risk fake Aegon being exposed now can you? So you were planning on running off to Essos to see Daenerys for yourself, to get a measure of the girl, and of course to offer your services as her Master of Whispers. And to see if she could be controlled and guided, and if not eliminated so that plan A with your fake Aegon could be put back into motion. Am I speaking the truth so far Lord Varys?"
He did not deign to reply to the Lord Hand's mocking comment, instead calming his mind and preparing for what was to come, death certainly, but before that the most rigorous of tortures to wring from him all his secrets.
He dragged his mind back to the present, noticing that Danerys seemed to considering what she had to say next. "You are a Master of Whispers, perhaps the most despised position in the direct service of a King, or Queen. Why should I accept you into my service, when you have served my enemies and were responsible for the knives of the Usurper that sought us out time and time again?"
"Yes I sent those knives, for if I had not I would have been killed. But ask yourself this question your Grace, why did your protectors always know that those knives were coming? Why did those knives always fail to reach your or your brothers flesh? I made sure that they would not succeed, by warning your protectors and by making sure that the men sent were not of the necessary skill to succeed."
"So you say" intoned Danerys, "I have nothing to base this assertion of yours on, only your word."
"Indeed your Grace, but I come with something that you will find most valuable I believe."
"Oh? And what is that Lord Varys?"
"I bring Formal documents from the Hand of the King for the surrender of the Iron Throne to you, the abdication of King Tommen and the restoration of the Targaryen dynasty."
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, Apr 29, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Sansa XVIII
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Sansa XVIII
It was funny thought Sansa that of all the things she had found strange about being married to the Old Lion it was the little things that she had found the most unusual. Case in point, the preference of Tywin to sleep naked, a practice that while she could see the benefits of, she could not bring herself to do. Despite the fact that she regularly ended up naked herself, still she always went to bed wearing a nightdress, though the nightdresses she wore now bore little resemblance to those she once wore. With little or no need to provide warmth this far south, even with autumn having been announced by the Citadel it was still pleasantly warm enough during the nights in Kings Landing, her night attire was more, well decorative if she had to be honest.
The sheerest of silks, fine lace and the thinnest of cottons made up the material of her nightgowns, often barely concealing her flesh beneath, and most of them daringly short, none of them reaching below her knees. Tywin approved of course, though he did regularly ask her to discard night attire altogether and sleep naked like he did, but she demurred.
Beside her Tywin slept, his chest rising and falling regularly, in the darkness his features were indistinct, ghostly. She had awoken a few minutes ago, something dragging her out of her sleep. She tossed and turned for a while, pondering various things in her mind; it refused to rest and let her sleep.
Her thoughts ranged from the benign regarding her duties as wife of the Hand, she ran his household and made sure that everything functioned smoothly, and Tywin had been nothing but complementary on how she was doing in respect to this. Her mind drifted over the comings and goings of the court and the latest gossip, how the Seven Kingdoms was settling down after the War of the Five Kings, how King Tommen was growing taller and stronger every day. And how the Tyrell's were positively salivating at the thoughts of Margaery being finally wedded to Tommen. Lady Olenna and her court had remained in the Red Keep this past year, refusing all polite invitations to return to High Garden, insisting on waiting for the wedding and staying stubbornly put.
She knew Tywin was very frustrated with the antics of the Queen of Thorns but he seemed to have given up on ejecting her from Kings Landing, an unlikely defeat for the Old Lion she mused. In the next few months Tommen and Margaery were sure to be wed, and it would no doubt would be a glorious occasion, full of the pomp and ceremony a Royal wedding would demand. Her and Lady Margaery had remained on good terms, she would not quite call it friendship, her former self would have, now she knew better. For now Margaery and her could associate and be polite to each other with little or no consequence, but once Margaery was married to Tommen and was Queen?
Ah but then her husband's time as Hand of the King would be numbered she knew, the Tyrell's would never stand for him as Hand then. Unlike Joffrey though Tommen would be unlikely to demand his grandfather's head, and so Tywin would be informed that his services were no longer required and he would be allowed to leave Kings Landing with as much grace and honour as he required.
Or at least she hoped that would be the case, she suspected that the Tyrell's knew that you did not insult a man like Tywin Lannister and expect to live long afterwards.
Tywin, she turned over in their bed to look at him, in the darkness she could see little of his noble features, but she could sense the masculine bulk of him inches away from her. Marriage to the Old Lion had certainly been nothing like what her Septa had said marriage would be like, nor anything like what the tales she had read as a child had described.
Her husband was a complex man, cold, ruthless, arrogant and with a will that no other man could match. But at the same time he was capable of humour, mirth, warmth and an amazing tenderness. The Old Lion seemed to have a special soft spot for his granddaughter Myrcella, who he spent quite a bit of time with, the smaller and much sweeter image of Cersei had become a genuine friend of hers. She wondered what kind of a father Tywin would be, Lord Tyrion was dismissive of his father's abilities in that department, but then again he had been in deep mourning for his first wife Joanna.
With a strange confidence Sansa knew that Tywin would be a great father to any children they would have together, and speaking of children....
With a mischievous smile playing on her lips Sansa gently sat up in the bed and discarded her night gown, before lifting the thin sheet and blanket that covered Tywin and slipping on top of him, pressing her torso against his, splaying her legs open to straddle him, her long legs gripping the outside of his thighs and legs.
"Sansa..." he mumbled.
"Is the mighty Lion awake or asleep?" she asked, planting little sharp kisses on his neck, nibbling with her teeth.
"Sansa" he mumbled again, his arms moving to embrace her, locking around her lower back.
She ground her groin into his, feeling the stirring of his manhood become more insistent, feeling it lengthen and thicken beneath her. She lifted up slightly to allow his cock the necessary room to grow to its not inconsiderable full size.
"I see the 'little lion' is awake, is his master as willing as he is?" she teased.
"Gods girl, you are insatiable" groaned Tywin, but with mirth clouding his voice.
"Well you did not do your duty by your Lady wife when we retired for the night, I am merely making sure that you attend to this duty my Lord" she reminded him, before one of his arms released her and she felt his hand bunch in her hair and lift her head up slightly. Tywin's lips met hers, her mouth opening immediately and her tongue darted into his mouth, retreating as Tywin's tongue thrust forwards into her mouth, a moan escaping her lips as his tongue probed and swirled around her own tongue.
His hand released her hair and began to join its partner in roving over her body, his calloused hands rough against her sensitive skin, sending shivers and tremors of pleasure as he skimmed lightly across her flanks and back.
She moaned into his mouth as his hands played with her skin, she felt the familiar, tugging ache in her heated, sopping core. Still keeping her mouth glued to Tywin's she moved so that her soaking slit moved up and down along his now fully effect length, teasing and rubbing against him. She smiled and tore her lips away from Tywin, pushing herself upwards slightly, gazing down into his face as she teased the head of his cock with her slit. Moving her gaze to hold Tywin's eyes she angled her body to position him at her entrance, Tywin's hands moving down to rest on the upper slope on her hips. Moving slightly she felt him at her entrance, thick and insistent, she let out a juddering moan as Tywin pushed down on her hips and thrust upwards with his body, sinking into her.
It never failed to astonish her at just how pleasurable those first few seconds of Tywin entering her was. Her husband seemed to be of the same opinion as without fail he always let out a groan of pleasure to match her own as he entered her.
Slowly Tywin pushed her down, his grip strong on her hips, his length seeking to bury itself to her depth, she rocked back to more fully engulf his manhood inside her, her jaw going slack at the pleasure of feeling Tywin fill her.
She rocked forwards and backwards, keeping as much of him inside as she could, the delicious friction between her sodden sheath and Tywin's cock making her swoon. Tywin sneaked a hand between their bodies, his fingers seeking out her engorged nubbin, teasing and rubbing it as a counterpoint to her movements. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she reached her peak, far too soon for her liking but it was not unknown for her to have several peaks with Tywin inside her, this position with her astride him seemed to favour that outcome.
Tywin had moved his hands to the small of her back and he was pushing her down onto him, their groins grinding against each other, she had not the energy anymore to rock back and forth, so she let Tywin thrust in and out of her, sliding easily in and out of her sodden womanhood.
She drifted off into a haze of pleasure, incoherent thoughts splashing across the surface of her mind's eye, brief glimpses of things that made no sense, while her second peak lazily built, slowly, almost maddeningly. She tried to hurry it on by grinding herself against Tywin harder, but his hands crushed her to him, stilling her motions, little gasps of frustration escaping her mouth.
Eventually her peak became inevitable and she let it wash over her, long and drawn out, leaving her exhausted and barely able to form conscious thoughts. Beneath her Tywin had sped up his thrusts, grunting and moaning, his mouth sought hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, trashing and wriggling against hers as she felt him tense beneath her and finally grunt his release. Inside her she could feel the hot wetness of Tywin's seed as it jerked from his manhood and she gave little satisfied moans as their mouths remained locked together.
She could feel Tywin's member begin to soften inside her after he finished spending, their mouths still locked together, but now their lips and tongues moved at a more languid pace, teasing and flowing. Her husband's hands left the small of her back and buried themselves in her hair, she loved it when Tywin did this, she loved him running his hands through her hair, it was strangely comforting to have him fondle her tresses.
Their lips parted after a while, both sweaty and slightly out of breath, she gazed down into his eyes in the darkness, moving a hand to cup the side of his face, feeling the slightly bristly skin under her fingertips.
"That, that was good....."
"I should hope so" replied Tywin, the slightest of smiles just visible on his face in the darkness.
"I don't like it when you neglect your duty my Lord, and it is a wife's burden to remind them...."
"Is it now?" Tywin asked with a teasing note in his voice.
"Yes, it is, and it has been five days since we last.....and I don't like waiting so long..."
"Do you now? Maybe I should make you wait longer then?"
"You are insufferable Tywin Lannister!" she retorted, only the slightest hint of anger in her voice.
"No, I am your Lord husband, and I have my duties to attend to." With that Tywin gently levered her off him and got up out of the bed, returning a minute later with a bowl of water and a towel.
Dipping the towel in the water he gently began to clean her body, delicately dabbing the cool cloth over her heated skin, wiping away their mingled sweat. He cleaned her nether regions last, wiping away his seed that was oozing out of her. Satisfied that she was clean Tywin handed her the night dress that she had discarded and as she put it on Tywin left the room. She knew he was giving himself a wash also, and a few minutes later he returned, slipping back into bed.
Lifting up the arm closest to him Sansa took the invite and cuddled into Tywin, that was another unusual aspect of her husband, he always liked to cuddle after their couplings. Sansa found it very comforting and relaxing to snuggle up to the Old Lions flank or even to lie with her head upon his chest, listening to his breathing and his heart beat. She would always fall asleep very quickly, drifting off into a dreamless and very refreshing slumber.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
Sbiper, May 4, 2020Report
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Threadmarks: Robb VII
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847
Robb VII
Robb inhaled the inviting aroma of good, beef broth and smiled as a servant placed a good sized bowl of the thick, steaming broth before him. He reached out and tore off a good chunk of bread from a freshly baked loaf and began tucking in, not bothering to see if others were waiting to start.
It was a small meal, family only and was in one of the smaller dining rooms in the Great Keep, a fire crackled merrily in the grate, newly mined coal from one of the mines Tywin Lannister had paid to be opened not far from Winterfell burned with logs in the hearth.
Around the table with him was his wife, his mother, along with Rikon. Bran had apparently disappeared before Winterfell had been liberated, heading north to parts unknown with Jojen and Merra Reed. He was of course worried about Bran but Rikon seemed to be sure that no harm would come to Bran and that more importantly Bran would return to them.
How Rikon could be so sure his youngest brother could not say, only asserting with a childlike certainty that it was so.
Winterfell had suffered some damage during the Greyjoy occupation and the subsequent battle to liberate it, though with the use of the secret tunnels and crypts below the fortress they had surprised the Greyjoy defenders and easily overwhelmed them.
That dammed traitor Theon Greyjoy had been given the death he deserved, courtesy of the 'Old Ways' as Old Nan had said, tied naked to the weirwood tree and cut hundreds of times so that his life's blood had slowly leaked away to stain the earth. The squid's blood would feed the weirwood, or so Old Nan had said, his mother had not been happy with this 'heathen practice' but he had overruled her, insisting on the death of the Greyjoy as prescribed. All had been offered their chance to cut Theon, even his southron wife, heavily pregnant with his child, had taken her cut, not flinching in the slightest he had been surprised to see.
That fact alone made him proud of his wife, never mind that she was already carrying the next generation of Starks in her womb, nor that Cerenna had proved to be a willing bedmate and to have a sensible head on her pretty shoulders. Pretty was a good word to describe his wife, there was nothing about her that he did not find attractive physically, she was a gorgeous, golden jewel and he had come to believe himself lucky to be married to her. Even of the circumstances of their marriage had been not of his choosing, even if their union was forced and contrived. He had come to accept this, not forget, or forgive, but at least accept. And there were certain advantages to being Tywin Lannister's good brother of course, not least of which was the considerable coin which was flowing northwards in the form of investments, outright gifts and generous loans to assist the North.
A few moons ago Cerenna had given birth to a baby boy, who he had named Brandon, and he had to admit that fatherhood had changed him further, made him recognise that while he was the Warden of the North, he had a duty to his son as well as the people of the North. He had to make sure that he would pass down a realm in good shape to his son. Brandon had the grey eyes of the Starks but his head was adorned with wispy blonde hair, his mother's blood showing true.
Part of his duty to the North had been eliminating the last of the Bolton's, but annoyingly Tywin Lannister had got there ahead of him, the sole remaining Bolton, the bastard Ramsey Snow, had apparently been killed by agents of the Lord Hand. It had sent his temper flaring at the news of this, but in the end he had let it go, and it somewhat suited him as he could claim to the other Northern Lords that the destruction of House Bolton was not something he had any hand or part in, it was solely due to the Bolton's own traitorous machinations with the Lord Hand.
And to be fair none of the Northern Lords really cared a toss for House Bolton, whose lands he had yet to decide what to do with, were Jon not in the Nights Watch he would have legitimised him and given him the Lordship of the former Bolton Lands.
And speaking of the Lord Hand, the several thousand Red Cloaks and knights that his good brother had lent him were still quartered in Winterfell, though many grumbled about this, whispering that the fist of Tywin Lannister held Winterfell. They were staying put for now as Lord Stannis was rumoured to be sailing to the North, and Rob had no problem with extra swords for when the time came to deal with Lord Stannis.
And unlike some of his bannermen, and especially unlike the various contingents he had commanded in the Riverlands when he still wore a crown, the Red Cloaks, their Officers and the accompanying Knights were well behaved and never once questioned any order he gave them. Lord Tywin had placed him in command of them, and as such he had the authority of the Lord of the Westerlands over them, and that was good enough for every one of them.
A refreshing change from the often garrulous lot he had commanded as King.
Anyway, ravens had gone out to inform the Lords of the North that they would be needed to deal with Stannis Baratheon if he indeed did land on the shores of the North. He hoped that Stannis did not land and that instead he was heading off to exile in Essos somewhere, but according to what the Lord Hand had said he could be expected to land either at Eastwatch by the Sea or at points farther north beyond The Wall.
What Stannis wanted in the North, or even beyond The Wall Robb could not know, it sounded stupid to him but it was his job as Warden of the North to defend his realm against Stannis, who was in rebellion against the Iron Throne.
"You have hardly said a word Robb" his mother scolded him, bringing his mind back to the room, his bowl was nearly empty, the second course was a whole roasted boar, great slabs of which had been laid out on a platter, glistening with fat and their juices.
He took a sip of his beer, his favourite Westerlands tipple; a brewery for this very same beer had been set up in Winterfell shortly after he had recaptured the place. When chilled this beer was even nicer than when only cool.
"I am sorry mother, I was hungry and I have a lot on my mind" he replied, noticing Cerenna's green eyes twinkling in the candlelight. His wife was rapidly regaining her girlish figure after the birth of Brandon, but as yet they had not lain together as man and wife, though there were other ways for them to be 'intimate' as Cerenna had shown him, so he was not missing out on much he mused.
Surprisingly for him it had been the moments of intimacy after their often heated and frantic couplings that he had come to enjoy almost as much as the physical acts themselves. Cerenna had a lively wit and mind, and they had often spent hours late into the night talking, often about themselves and their childhoods. But equally often about the North and the Westerlands, and about politics in general.
He had a very particular topic he wanted to discuss with Cerenna later on, his train of through once more interrupted by his Mother remarking that the sooner the Lannister soldiers were gone the better.
That was the nearest his mother came to mentioning Sansa, whose name his mother appeared determined to not let cross her lips ever again. He was not sure how he felt about Sansa, and her revelation of the part she played in the death of his father. His mother seemed to have decided that her eldest daughter was effectively dead; much like it was suspected that Arya was actually dead.
He hoped Sansa was enjoying being wedded to the Old Lion; he hoped she enjoyed being a great southron Lady, like she had always dreamed of being. He put all the sour thoughts about Sansa and Tywin Lannister and the south behind him and concentrated on eating his fill of the roast boar. The conversation that flowed between Cerenna and his mother as he ate until he was satisfied was still somewhat stilted, but at least it no longer consisted of hostile silences and barbed comments.
Afterwards in the chambers of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell he decided to forego some of the highly pleasurable play of lips and tongues over each of their bodies to instead talk to his wife about what concerned him. He noticed she was slightly annoyed by this; he would have to instead pleasure his wife after their conversation in that case.
"The Freys" he began, knowing that Cerenna knew exactly what he was referring to.
"What of them?" she asked, innocently enough, but Robb knew his wife well at this stage, he could see the slightest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
"We both know that the story of what happened is a tissue of lies, a fabrication...."
"Do we?" she asked "Lord Edmure has accepted that the Frey's brought their own doom upon them, and he has confirmed Lady Genna's husband as Lord of the Crossing," one delicate, blonde eyebrow arching slightly.
"So that places the Lannister's in effective control of the crossing, the Frey's, such as they are will require significant loans to repair the Twins, and I hear that the proposed canal from Seaguard to Port Town has received Royal approval. More loans will be needed to construct that. And who will be providing all that coin? Not the Iron bank but my very own good brother, Tywin Lannister...."
Cerenna took several steps towards him, until she was standing with her body pressed against his, she reached up with a hand and pulled his head downwards, but instead of the kiss he hoped for she instead whispered in his ear "the truth is what people say it is, and if you are as powerful as Tywin Lannister then your truth IS the truth. Who cares for the Frey's, they were poor allies of you when you were King, abandoning your cause, and like the Bolton's likely plotting with Lord Tywin. And dead men tell no tales, whatever Lord Tywin had been planning with them died with both traitorous Houses. The Crossing is not in the North, worry about that first and foremost."
With that Cerenna moved her head and captured his lips with hers, her tongue darting playfully into his mouth, his concerns and worries evaporating as his mind clouded with lust.
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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!
What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...
Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter
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SbiperNot too sore, are you?
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Bronn VI
Life, Bronn realised had never been better, here he was, sat at the High table in a feasting hall of the Red Keep, his wife of two hours sat beside him. The chit was ten and seven years old, Joanna Swyft of House Swyft.
He took a sip of his wine, good arbour gold, not the sour piss he was used to, for was he not 'quality' now eh? He would have preferred marry into a Lordly House of course, preferably one with huge gold mines, but he was satisfied enough with the match Lord Tywin had made for him. House Swyft was one of the largest producers of grain in the Westerlands, its lands rich and bountiful, and they actually did have several gold and silver mines to their name, but their output was pathetically small compared to that of other Houses.
However Lord Tywin had imposed upon him the caveat that any children he would father on Joanna would take the name Swyft. It was he mused no great imposition as he had only had a real 'last name' since the Battle of the Blackwater. And fathering pups should not be too much of an imposition on his new wife either.
Also he now became related by marriage to the Lannisters, via the fact that Lord Tywin's brother Kevan was also married into House Swyft. And apparently this had caused something of a rift between the two Lannister brothers, though Bronn knew that whatever resentment Kevan Lannister might have he wisely did not pursue it openly, and from when he knew of Kevan Lannister the man was thoroughly beholden to Tywin and unlikely to make too much of a fuss.
He glanced at the girl, ash blonde of hair and blue of eye, with a delectable swelling of creamy teats visible under the folds of her dress. He would enjoy bedding the girl, though he did wonder if he was cut out to stay faithful to her, he had always easily tired of women, preferring the company of whores. At least with them there was no artifice, you paid them and they did their job, end of story. And speaking of whores, what of his particular favourite, Merie? Apparently the girl had left Chataya's and departed for places unknown, and without so much as a by nor leave. A shame that, she had been an enjoyable tumble, sufficiently naughty and skilled to keep his attention. He had always preferred 'duskier maids' before Merie, whose golden hair atop her head and between her legs had inflamed his desires.
Adjusting himself in his seat he felt his pillar beginning to stiffen at the images flashing through his mind's eye, he turned his thoughts elsewhere to reduce his discomfort.
Neither the current head of House Swyft, Ser Harys Swyft, nor his good father Steffon had been at all pleased with the match, but Lord Tywin had insisted, and like most bannermen of the Old Lion they might have grumbled but they did not dare defy their Lord Paramount. He grinned at that, anyone fool enough to cross Tywin Lannister must be devoid of an ounce of sense. For had the Old Lion not eliminated four Houses that displeased him? Well technically House Frey still lived, but only the portion with Lannister blood.
"My Lord Husband" the girl said, her eyes downcast, nervousness evident in her voice.
"Aye lass, what is it?" Bronn replied, picking up his wine goblet and taking another good gulp, this really was very good wine, he ought to secure some of this for his own use, now that he was a 'proper' Lord. Well, technically he was still just a Ser, but how and ever....
"You have scarce said a word to me since we were wed, do, do I displease you?"
"No lass, of course not, I'm not a man of many words, especially with someone I hardly know. Worry not love, we will get to know each other very well, you will be staying on with me in Kings Landing for now. I am sworn to the Lord Hand's service, he likes to keep me close, often has interesting work for me to do."
On that note, things had actually been quite boring recently, with only the odd bit of 'wet work' that required his skills. Not that he was complaining, the money was still good, and the living was better than he had ever enjoyed in his life. He idly wondered when he would return to the Street of Silk to enjoy himself, tomorrow? A week from now, a Moons Turn? He let his eyes rove over his young wife, she was certainly attractive enough, but her knew he would get bored of her soon enough. The girl was almost certainly a maiden, probably had never seen a cock before in her life, and most likely knew nothing of the arts and ways of pleasing a man.
A bubble of mirth escaped his throat, and the Sigil of Hosue Swyft was a fucking cock of all things!
He half suspected that this was some vast joke, the Imp had certainly said as much; slyly whispering that his Lord father thought that marrying Bronn into a house whose Sigil was a cock was a joke of cosmic proportions.
He moved his gaze to the pair of Lannisters, both present with their wives, a sign of the honour and esteem he was held in by House Lannister, which also meant that his new in laws behaved themselves. A finer study in contrasts one could not find he mused, and not just in their physical appearances. The Old Lion's wife sat regal and beautiful beside him, paying her husband as much attention as was proper and right, a soul of courtly manners and ladyship. The Imp on the other hand slumped drunk, his wife, her swollen belly making her tiny fame almost disappear behind it, looked to be on the verge of tears as usual.
All was not well with that pair he knew, the Imp had even said as much, telling Bronn one drunken evening that he had to force his husbandly duties on the former Frey chit, that she never acceded to her duty willingly. Shame that Bronn idly pondered, the Frey chit was pretty enough, if she ever smiled and did not go around with a hangdog expression on her face all the time.
Still, pretty as the Frey chit was, he was not married to her thank the gods, he did not know what he would do if married to such a girl. No, he did know what he would do; he would be spilling his seed into whores instead, not bothering to waste it on one so ungrateful.
He put Tyrion and his unhappy marriage from his mind and returned his attention to his new wife; maybe he would have some entertainment in teaching the chit how he liked his women to pleasure him. She seemed meek enough that a bit of cajoling, sweet talk and being smart about how and what he said might make for some interesting times ahead.
There would be no bedding ceremony; the Lord Hand's well know dislike for this practice ensured that nobody was foolish enough to suggest one. He had to agree in principle with the Lord Hand; he did not like the thoughts of his wife being manhandled by a bunch of drunken louts.
He put these thoughts from his head, he had come a long way from the gutter he mused, he had climbed high in the service of the Lannister's. Not bad for a smallfolk sellsword he thought, not bad at all.
The candles provided soft, low light in the chambers in the Maiden vault that he and his new wife had been assigned, nice enough quarters and a damm sight better than he was used to. Appropriate to his newfound station and that of his wife, who would be joining the handmaidens of the Lady of Casterly rock.
Joanna turned to him, nervousness making her blue eyes seem huge in the semi darkness, she twisted her hands before her, shying away from his gaze and looking at the floor. She had been prepared for bed, her clothes removed and instead she was dressed in a silk nightgown, which was almost, but not quite see through.
Bronn sighed, he was not good at this he mused, whores were not shy like this, unless you paid 'em to act like this, and well, he was not a great believer in the supposed pleasures of maiden cunny. Bedding a maiden meant more work for you, and dealing with an inexperienced lass was not high on the things he relished. Give him an experienced whore any time of day or night, one who knew how to bring a man pleasure and who could drain his stones completely leaving him exhausted and sated.
Instead he would have to spend far too much time educating this chit to the ways of pleasing a man, and mayhaps he might even fail in this endeavour, for whores rarely complained when you made them swallow your seed, so long as they were paid appropriately.
Dragging his mind back to the present he said as gently as he could "take off the night gown lass."
She looked up at him, fear plain on her face, she looked like she was about to say something but instead she complied, removing the garment and discarding it, to stand naked before him.
"You are very beautiful Joanna" he said, keeping his voice steady and he took a step towards her, the girl made to take a step back but she stopped herself.
Shrugging off his doublet he pulled his shirt off over his head, taking another step to stand mere inches from Joanna.
"What do you know of what happens between a husband and a wife?" he asked, bending his head down to whisper this in her ear, noticing that the girls nipples were standing erect and that her breathing was becoming increasingly shallow.
"I, erh, my Septa has told me that I must lie back and let my husband do his duty.....that....that there will be pain, and....blood...at first....."
He smiled to himself "so nothing then?" he whispered as he bent his head to nuzzle in the join of her shoulder and neck, inhaling the scent of her skin and hair. He kissed the girls skin lightly, just over where one of her veins pulsed in her neck, hearing her sharp intake of breath at this touch.
Bronn brought his hands up to cup the girl's waist, feeling her shiver as his calloused hands rubbed over her soft skin. Sliding his hands upwards his fingers traced the underside of her breasts, before his finger tips brushed lightly against her erect nipples.
The gasping moan that escaped the girl's lips brought a smile to his face, maybe teaching this chit would not be so much of a chore after all?
Picking her up in his arms he ignored her yelp of surprise as he carried her to the bed, depositing her there gently and pulling off his boots, socks, trousers and small clothes. He climbed up onto the bed as naked as the girl, noting her eyes immediately flick towards his groin and his proudly erect member.
He bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth, enjoying the electric like shock it produced through Joanna's body; he suckled and bit at the nubbin of hard flesh in her mouth, as Joanna moaned at this. His hands were not idle, discovering every sweep and curve of her soft flesh, teasing her legs open despite some slight resistance.
He dipped a finger into her folds, pleased to find her commendably wet, he brought his finger up to discover the little secret centre of pleasure that was the key to pleasing women.
Brushing against it he smiled with a nipple in his mouth as Joanna gave a gasp of pleasure, followed by an aching moan.
Resting his palm on her lower belly, feeling the familiar bone under the heel of his palm he pressed down while his finger circled that hard little piece of puckered flesh hidden among the damp folds of her womanhood. Joanna arched her back, pushing herself up against the heel of his palm, and he smiled again.
That little trick worked every time he grinned, he moved his mouth the other nipple, lavishing it with attention, before heading southwards along her belly, trailing his tongue through the golden curls above her sex and fastening his lips around the flaps of flesh that hid his goal.
Using his tongue and lips to part his quarry he gave it a light flick, followed by a much more forceful lick, Joanna's body bucked and squirmed underneath his ministrations, incomprehensible sounds escaping her mouth.
Bronn licked and lapped at his wife's increasingly heated and dampened sex, until he felt her clench and arch her back, crying out. He kept up a frantic licking as she rode her peak, as it began to fade he ceased to stimulate the little bud, instead lapping and pulling her folds, though every few seconds he returned to her clit and gave it a quick, hard lick. Each one of these produced a sharp intake of breath from Joanna, followed by a wanton moan of pleasure.
Well, that's part one finished Bronn thought, rather satisfied with the job he had done, as he levered himself up and gazed down at Joanna. Her body was slick with sweat and looked fevered with the flush of blood across its surface, especially across her chest and over her face. Positioning himself between her legs he teased at her sodden folds with the tip of his cock, she moaned slightly at this and opened her eyes, her head flopping to one side to get a better look at him.
"Susshhhh now sweetling, just relax....." he whispered as he pushed forwards, meeting her maiden head and he kept on going , breaking it, seeing Joanna's face twist from slack passion to tensed pain in the merest second.
"Ahhhh, that hurts...." she moaned.
"Aye lass, it will hurt for a second or two, no more," he replied, slowly thrusting deeper into the incredibly tight cunny of his wife. "Fuck" he breathed as he hilted himself, he'd never felt a cunny so tight, nor so wet, in all his life. Holding himself inside the girl he leaned closer to her face, bucking his hips slightly to shove himself in even deeper than he already was, grinding his groin against hers, not noticing her maidens blood slick at the base of his cock.
Joanna's mouth found his, her tongue snaking into his mouth, oh now that was good, if unexpected. He pulled back slowly and equally slowly thrust forwards again, noticing that Joanna did not wince as much this time. He kept this up for a few minutes, a nice, slow, easy fuck, anything faster would have had him spending in seconds due to the fierce, slickly heated grip that his wife's maiden cunt had on his cock.
But eventually even he could not contain the seed boiling in his stones and he grunted and let himself spend inside his moaning wife. He held the chit in his arms afterwards, stroking and kissing her like he knew some women liked after they got a good dollop of seed inside them.
After a while he freed himself from Joanna's embrace and washed himself down, Joanna did the same, her maids having prepared a bath for her. Bronn scowled at this, here he was washing himself with a towel and a bowl while his wife was getting a nice bath, something was not right about that....
Afterwards, once both of them were cleaned they went back to bed, he pulled on his smallclothes and Joanna her night shift.
Bronn was sure that the girl wanted to ask him something as she lay beside him in their bed.
Opening his arms he beckoned her into his embrace, women, even some whores he knew, liked to be embraced and cuddled, and especially after sex.
"How was that for you lass?" he asked, whispering, giving the top of her head a kiss, he really liked the smell of Joanna's freshly washed hair, it reminded him of summer.
"That, that was very nice husband" she replied, lifting her head to give his chest a little kiss.
"You can call me Bronn you know" he replied.
"And you may call me Joanna" the girl said, her voice only slightly cautious.
"Grand, that's the awkwardness of first names out of the way" he joked.
"Bronn?" Joanna said, something lurking in her voice that made him instantly wary.
"Yes Joanna?"
"That, that thing you did with your mouth..."
"Aye, it's called 'the Lords kiss', or so I'm told" he replied, grinning.
"It, it was very pleasurable...…"
"I'm glad you liked it, and before you ask, yes, I liked it as well...."
"Is, is there....a....'lady's kiss' also? I'd like to learn how to do it...."
Bronn's eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline, mayhaps marriage would not be so boring after all?