GOT: The Dangerous Traveler 8
Lyn Corbray V
Year 281 A.C. – Harrenhal
The music from the feast drifted through the walls of Harrenhal like a distant echo as Lyn Corbray and Ashara Dayne slipped away from the dance floor. Laughter and conversation filled the main hall, creating a curtain of noise behind which the two of them disappeared, wrapped in the complicity of their shared glances.
Ashara, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the dancing, rested a hand on Lyn's arm as they walked down one of the dark corridors. The alcohol made it hard for her to walk on her own.
"We shouldn't be here…" she whispered, though her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile that betrayed any real objection. It was something she secretly wanted, but without all those glasses of wine, she would never have agreed. Rationality would have won, analyzing all the consequences and repercussions that would follow.
"And yet, here we are," Lyn replied, his voice low and laden with intent. His bright eyes gleamed under the torchlight, fixed on her with an intensity that would have made even a sober woman falter. "Are you afraid someone might see us?"
His gaze dropped, roaming her body with hunger.
'I'm going to fuck her until she's mentally delayed,' Lyn thought with a smile, genuinely happy about the night ahead. It would make him forget all the bad times related to those bastard bears.
Ashara let out a soft, musical laugh, though her eyes still showed traces of doubt.
Lyn said no more. Instead, he guided her toward a dimly lit alcove where shadows danced on the stone walls. He closed the door behind them with a calm gesture, as if everything had been perfectly planned.
"No prying eyes here. Just you and me. We can stay all night."
"Are you always this bold?" Ashara asked, looking at him with a mix of anticipation and cheekiness.
Lyn smiled, that arrogant yet seductive smile of his. "Only when the company deserves it."
The tension between them grew, charged with something indescribable but undeniable. Lyn took a step forward, then another, until the distance between them was insignificant. His hand brushed the curve of Ashara's chin before sliding to her neck, stopping just below her ear. She didn't pull away; instead, she tilted her head toward him, like a flower seeking the sun. Her cheeks were even redder now—whether from the alcohol or something else.
When their lips met, there was no hesitation, only hunger. Lyn took control with the same confidence he wielded his sword, and Ashara surrendered with a passion that matched his. His hands moved quickly, undoing ribbons, slipping beneath expensive fabrics that seemed like unnecessary obstacles at that moment.
The alcove filled with whispers and ragged breaths. Every touch was calculated, every kiss a silent declaration of desire. Lyn made sure Ashara was fully present, his eyes seeking hers occasionally, confirming that every move was welcome. She returned his gaze with an intensity that could have burned the castle walls.
When their bodies finally came together, it was with an almost desperate urgency, as if the world were about to end and all that mattered was that moment. Lyn, ever the narcissist, reveled in every sigh he drew from her, seeing it as a personal victory. Ashara, for her part, was no passive woman; she responded to every gesture, setting her own pace when needed, making it clear that while she was under Lyn's spell, she was no puppet.
'A true Dornishwoman. Their whores are the best,' Lyn thought, not letting himself get too distracted, knowing opportunities like this were rare.
Ashara gently pushed him toward the cold stone wall, her fingers working with unexpected skill to undo the buckles and knots that held his clothes in place. Lyn smiled, watching every movement with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. His hands didn't stay idle; they roamed Ashara's waist, exploring every curve as she knelt before him, her eyes never leaving his.
Ashara, always self-assured, moved with a confidence that disarmed even someone as arrogant as Lyn. Every gesture, every movement was charged with intent, as if she wanted to prove she could match him in desire and control. Though the alcohol made her clumsier than usual on several occasions.
"Cheers," Lyn whispered, seeing his penis in front of Ashara's face, and there he saw it—the insecurity in those purple eyes.
Ashara had shown clear experience in all her caresses, in how she manipulated her tongue inside Lyn's mouth, but now she had gone blank, unsure of what to do.
"Don't tell me…" Lyn said in an amused tone. "Are you a virgin?" he asked, and the girl looked up in surprise.
"I… not really," she said awkwardly. "In Dorne, we're different. I've had plenty of experiences… but with other women. Sometimes I help Princess Elia satisfy herself," the woman said casually, as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell.
"So I'm your first cock," Lyn said with a smile. A sexual relationship between women seemed amusing to him—almost insignificant. He would be the first man to tame the Dornish bitch in front of him. "Let me give you a push, then."
Lyn's hands moved to Ashara's head, and with a more or less firm push, he guided her toward his penis, making her eyes widen in surprise.
"Go ahead, give it a try. We have all night," Lyn said with a smile, watching as Ashara's clumsy movements began to work on him.
But the Dornishwoman had talent. Within ten minutes, she could rival an amateur whore. Still, the motion didn't matter much to Lyn. The most satisfying part was seeing the most sought-after lady in the Seven Kingdoms sucking his cock like a whore.
After ten minutes, Lyn had had enough. If Ashara continued, he risked finishing too soon. He wanted to save his first release for something more… "special."
"Let me return the favor," Lyn said, deciding to do something he normally wouldn't. He never did it with whores, of course, and even with noble ladies, he rarely did: his mouth moved to Ashara's vagina, already exposed after he ripped her dress off, and began licking all her folds.
Ashara moaned, her hands tugging at Lyn's hair, but she didn't go wild. If she occasionally had lesbian sex, then this was something she was used to.
After some time, Lyn stood up and took Ashara by the waist, spinning her with a decisive motion and pressing her against the wall.
Their bodies met again, this time with an urgency that made the outside world fade away. The rhythm was intense, every movement synchronized in a dance that needed no music. Lyn felt the walls of Ashara's insides tightening around him.
"This is what a cock feels like. Do you like it?" Lyn whispered in her ear, taking the opportunity to bite her earlobe.
Ashara could only let out a muffled moan, which seemed informative. Lyn's self-esteem would have taken a hit if Ashara had simply said no, but her expressions of euphoria confirmed he was doing a good job.
When they both finally reached their climax, the silence of the alcove was filled with a heavy calm, as if even the shadows were holding their breath. Lyn slowly pulled out, and soon after, a thick white liquid flowed from Ashara's vagina.
"Was that it?" Ashara asked with a playful, mocking smile, though her heavy breathing, red-marked rear, bitten back, and flushed face indicated she had enjoyed it.
"Oh? Do you want me to take you from behind now?" Lyn replied mockingly, making Ashara's eyes widen in surprise as she shook her head. "But… who said it was over?" Lyn said, and before Ashara could react, he moved in front of her, holding her arms firmly in the air as he penetrated her again, this time facing her, looking into her eyes as he did.
The thrusts were fast and heavy. Lyn planned to finish inside her again. But… they were interrupted.
Mid-act, a loud knock resonated on the door, breaking the spell. Both froze. Before they could react, the door swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Arthur Dayne, his Kingsguard armor gleaming in the torchlight. His gray eyes, usually cold and serious, were now blazing with fury.
"Get your hands off my sister!" Arthur roared. "I knew your disappearance wasn't a coincidence!"
Lyn, naked but with a smile that barely hid his growing concern, slowly stood up. "It would be easier if you weren't interrupting, Ser Arthur," he said, his tone full of an arrogance that didn't reach his eyes.
This bastard had discovered them, and this was bad, very bad in Lyn's eyes. Once again, he was in trouble for thinking with the head between his legs.
Arthur advanced like a whirlwind, trying to pull Lyn off Ashara, who had quickly covered herself with her dress.
"Stop, Arthur!" she shouted, her eyes filled with desperation. "This isn't what you think!" she added out of sheer desperation, not really knowing what she was saying. The alcohol had left her system, and the weight of her actions finally hit her like a thunderclap.
But Ashara's words fell on deaf ears. Arthur, driven by a mix of protectiveness and humiliation, lunged at Lyn, who barely managed to dodge the first punch. Despite everything, the Kingsguard hadn't drawn his sword yet.
The fight that followed was violent and chaotic, a wild contrast between Arthur's heavy armor and Lyn's nakedness. The blows echoed in the small alcove, the sound amplifying each impact.
Lyn, though devoid of clothing, was no less lethal. He moved with agility, dodging and returning blows when he could, his smile turning into a grimace of effort.
Arthur landed a punch directly to Lyn's face, which Lyn barely managed to avoid enough to prevent his nose from breaking, but the impact sent him crashing into the wall. A trickle of blood ran from his eyebrow, sliding down his cheek. Lyn reacted quickly, his left hand forming a fist that he drove into Arthur's side, hitting the armor plate and sending a wave of pain through his bare arm.
'This bastard is tough, and hitting his armor with my bare fists hurts like hell,' Lyn thought quickly. He had to focus his blows on Arthur's exposed head. He wasn't wearing a helmet, so it was the only area where Lyn could do real damage.
Arthur counterattacked, grabbing Lyn by the neck and slamming him against the stone wall with such force that a nearby painting fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. Lyn, gritting his teeth, managed to lift his knee and strike Arthur in the thigh, just above the knee where the armor didn't protect as well, forcing him to loosen his grip. Lyn took the opportunity to lunge forward, driving his shoulder into Arthur's abdomen and unbalancing him. It was more of a shove than a real blow.
Both men fell to the ground, a tangle of arms and legs struggling for control. Arthur managed to get on top, raising his fist for another punch, but Lyn intercepted it with both hands, blocking the attack. The effort drew a grunt from both of them as their tense muscles trembled with exertion. Lyn twisted his body, making them roll across the cold floor until he was on top.
Lyn, still naked, took advantage of his position to deliver a direct punch to Arthur's face. The impact was solid, making the knight grunt in pain as a trickle of blood began to flow from his split lip. Lyn could see it in the Kingsguard's eyes—he was dazed.
However, Lyn's advantage was short-lived. Arthur, with impressive strength even in the chaos of the fight, pushed Lyn back with a knee to his abdomen, forcing him to retreat as he struggled to catch his breath.
Arthur quickly stood up, halfway drawing his sword before stopping, his gaze caught by Ashara, who had stepped between them.
"Enough!" she shouted, her voice trembling but firm. "This isn't what it seems!"
Arthur, his chest heaving from the effort, pointed an accusing finger at Lyn. "He has dishonored you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained fury. "And now you're trying to protect him."
Lyn, with a cut on his eyebrow and a bloody lip, slowly stood up, leaning against the wall. A lopsided smile appeared on his face, though his eyes betrayed a mix of adrenaline and concern. "Ser Arthur, your sense of drama is almost poetic," he said, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Though I must admit, I wasn't expecting this kind of reception, brother-in-law."
Ashara turned to Lyn, her eyes blazing. "Shut up, Lyn! This is bad enough without you making it worse."
Arthur took a step forward, his sword still half-drawn, but Ashara raised both hands to stop him.
"Brother, please. I swear this was consensual," she said, her voice breaking at the end. She wanted to omit the part about the excessive alcohol in her veins; she didn't want to complicate things further.
Arthur took a heavy breath and finally lowered his sword. "Fine," he whispered, his eyes fixed on his sister.
'Looks like I'll have to learn dual-wielding,' Lyn thought quickly, watching Ashara calm her brother. 'I'm screwed, utterly screwed. I was already in deep trouble with the Barristan situation; Aerys would want my head. Rhaegar was probably looking for an excuse. If a king decides to burn a noble without reason, the flames of rebellion would burn fiercely, fueled by the fear of the other nobles. That's what Rhaegar wanted. Now I've just given him more reasons to screw me over. Shit!' he reflected. He had to make a decision, one with no turning back.
Lyn saw it—Arthur was distracted. His eyes landed on a candlestick with a sharp point in the center.
"But this hasn't…" Arthur was saying to his sister, until his eyes widened in shock. The tip of the candlestick plunged into his throat, and blood began to pour from his mouth.
Ashara let out a choked scream.
"No!" she rushed toward her brother, but Lyn, acting with ruthless efficiency, struck her temple with the same candlestick, knocking her unconscious before she could reach him.
"Well, I'm sorry, I guess. It seems that besides fucking you, I've literally fucked your life too," Lyn muttered in annoyance. "But in the end, I lose more than you. At least it was worth it in part," he added. He walked over to Arthur and took something from him.
Dawn, the ancestral sword of House Dayne. It wasn't Valyrian steel; it was something more. Something more… magical.
Lyn left the alcove, closing the door softly behind him.
"Did I just kill the two greatest warriors in Westerosi history within a couple of hours? Well, shit. I'm a pretty cool guy."
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The canon is ruined. The fact that one of Rhaegar's right hands died prematurely will have major consequences for Lyanna Stark's fate.