Ting!
[Hidden Quest Completed - Can't See Me!
Description - Sneak into King's Landing unseen.
Reward - Stealth Ability Improvement. Always know where and when to hide.]
Ting!
[Tyrant's Title Acquired - The Kingmaker
Description - Your hand not only raises the blade, but also decides the realm's fate.
Effect - You are known as the Kingmaker to Westeros. Your name, actions, and words will hold greater weight no matter where you are.]
Ting!
[Hidden Quest Completed - Save Elia Martell
Description - A Tyrant punishes with fury, and protests with fervor.
Reward - Dorne's Friendship, Elia Martell's loyalty.]
[Elia Martell's Loyalty - 40%]
Ting!
[Tyrant's Title Acquired - Kingslayer
Description - Mad or not, a King remains a King. Your enemy or not, he remains a King. You have killed that King.
Effect - Forever marked as Kingslayer. The realm's nobles fear you, for they are even beneath a king.]
Ting!
[Quest Nullified - Mad King's Admiration]
Wylis kept waiting for a few moments. When no more pings came, he finally looked away from the Mad King's corpse, skewered on the throne, still sitting, but very much dead.
"Ugh…" Wylis sighed and turned around, facing the vastness of the massive throne room. He sat down on the steps before the throne to catch his breath. While he'd hardly fought, all that digging had drained him.
Right then, Jaime's footsteps neared, and he joined Wylis on the stairs. "I’d fetch you water, Ser, but the maids have all scattered off somewhere."
Wylis chuckled and looked to the side at Jaime. The young knight was many things, bad things, but also decent enough to stop the King from burning the entire city. "Not going to fight me? I killed your King."
Jaime shrugged and looked forward at the throne room's main doors. "He was no King even to the Queen, so how could he be King to the rest of us? Even me. What’s happened… perhaps it had to be."
"Because of the wildfire?"
Jaime's head snapped towards him.
"Don’t give me that look. With a fire-drunk fool like him, it fits. When I fled the last time, I saw the wildfire he stored in secret. Men like him are brittle, like spoiled children. If they can’t hold a toy, they’d sooner see it burn than let another keep it," Wylis said, arms on his knees, his head plopped forward.
The reality was settling in slowly.
He'd done it. Robert's Rebellion was over.
He had won name, fame, and achievements that most men couldn't achieve in their entire lifetime. He'd won every single battle he'd taken part in. The only thing left now was to reap the rewards.
"What will you do now, Ser Wylis? I mean, where will you go?"
"Time I went home. Nearly two years gone by since I left the North," Wylis said, though he never named which home he meant. "I've had my fill of steel and blood. Time to rest, maybe try my luck in trade. I'd rather not reduce myself to a tourney knight. That's no better than being a court jester."
Jaime chuckled, remembering another man who got famous for being a tourney knight. Now that man, that Prince, was dead. "Trade? I didn’t expect that to be something you'd care for."
"Why? Just because I'm big, I must be dull too?" Wylis glared at the young knight jokingly. "Have some ideas. Last I was hunting bandits in Westerlands, I found possible gold deposits. Might be worth a word with your father, rights to mine for a fair share.”
Jaime's eyes widened at that. Tywin was the last person he expected to appear in their conversation. But what Wylis said intrigued him as well. He knew Wylis well enough to know that the giant knight was a serious man.
“Gold, eh? That’d draw my father’s eye,” Jaime said with a half-smile. “But mind yourself, he’s a man who clings to control. Tangle with him too far, and you’ll not sleep easy.”
Wylis glanced at the young knight. Jaime had no reason to say all that. Badmouthing his own father. It was a general rule that even if you don’t like your family, you don’t tarnish their name behind their back.
Seems I left a decent impression.
"What about you, Ser Jaime? Still set on staying with the Kingsguard? I could speak with Robert, see if he’ll let you go back home." Wylis offered him something he felt would do good for the realm. Since he'd already fucked everything by saving Elia, he reckoned it was best to save Robert from cuckolding.
"I’d rather be here. At home, it's all about reading reports and listening to tiresome appeals. Here, I get to live by the blade, and I don't mind watching the court. I’d not call it dull."
Creak!
Right then, the twin large doors of the throne room's entrance were pushed open. Armor clattering, footsteps loud, men grunting, a small army came into view right away. Wearing Lannister red, the men stormed into the hall and spread around.
Wylis stood up from the stairs and watched Tywin Lannister walk in, wearing armor that could bankrupt multiple noble houses just to make its cape. It was so extravagant that it made sense why the Lannisters were synonymous with gold.
It was deep crimson with gold highlights. The heavy cloak on his back was sewn with countless layers of gold threads, clasped on his shoulders by gold miniature lions, and his helmet was a roaring lion with ruby eyes.
Overdoing it, but stylish.
Wylis actually liked the tasteful colors and extravagance. It was a silent show of strength and status, enough to silence all those around him without uttering a word. Tywin didn't have to tell anyone who he was. His attire screamed Lannister on its own.
"Lord Tywin." Wylis walked down from the stairs and greeted the man. "Just in time."
But then more men entered the hall, Robert and Eddard to be precise.
"Hah! Look at him, Ned!" Robert bellowed at the sight of Aerys. "Run through like the boar we feasted on last night!"
Wylis chuckled, walked over to Robert, and clasped hands with the big man. "The Red Keep is yours, Your Grace."
"You killed him?" Eddard voiced from the side, his gaze full of suspicion and doubts. "Why ride before the rest of us?"
Uh, this man and his fucking suspicions.
But there was joy in toying with Eddard. Although the man was tall, Wylis' mighty height let him look down on him and everyone else.
"Leave it, Ned. We won, it's time for a feast!" Robert tried to stop his two closest friends from arguing.
"For a good reason." Wylis still offered an answer. “When I slipped out of King’s Landing before, I found a hidden room beneath the Keep. Once we won at Trident, I feared the Mad King would do something foolish. So, I rode as fast as I could to save the city, so that Robert wouldn’t inherit a crown of ashes.”
"Seven hells, Wylis, what are you jabbering about now?"
He looked Robert in the eye. “The Mad King hid countless jars of wildfire beneath the city. When I came through those doors, he was raving for it to be lit, to burn all to the ground. So you’d have nothing left but ashes for a throne.”
That raised alarm bells in everyone's head. Even the minor soldiers there straightened up by that revelation. Even Tywin walked over to speak.
"Where?" Tywin asked and looked at Robert. "Your Grace, you must withdraw at once. One jar loosed, and the Keep will vanish in flame."
"By the Gods, I won’t bother with that. Put it out yourself." Robert groaned and walked over to the throne. He climbed the stairs, grabbed Wylis' sword's hilt, and pulled it entirely out of Aerys' dead body.
Thud!
Robert shoved the dead body away, let it fall from the stairs, and took the bloodstained throne.
"I’ll have blisters on my arse if I rot in this chair every day," Robert laughed, shifting on the throne. "Find those pyromancers and be rid of their damned wildfire. And tell me, what of the dragonspawn? Where’s Elia?"
Wylis didn't react to that. It was the moment of truth. He had to steer Robert's mind towards an acceptable outcome.
"Burned," Lord Tywin responded. "I saw the ruin myself, Your Grace. My men went in to seize her and the children. But they never returned. The whole quarter of Maegor's Holdfast was aflame with green fire."
Hearing green fire, all eyes turned towards the corpse of the Mad King.
Fucking brilliant, Tywin! Brilliant! Wylis rejoiced.
"I’ve already dispatched men to gather the bones," Tywin said.
"Good riddance!" Robert sneered and relaxed back on the throne. "Mad as he was, he knew how to make it better for me. I'll have the Martells come and collect the bones."
Then… No Dornish rebellion? This is amazing!
Wylis saw pieces falling in their place on their own. It was the best outcome possible for the realm and Robert. As for Elia, he wasn't sure what to do with her yet.
Robert gave a few more orders to his men. Then they discussed the siege on Storm's End by the Tyrells. Initially, Robert wanted to send Wylis to end it. But Eddard volunteered midway, claiming he'd also search for Lyanna.
This time, there was no quarrel between Robert and Ned since they believed Elia and her children were murdered by Aerys himself.
Finally, Wylis grabbed his sword and sheathed it on his back, into the custom-made scabbard.
"Where are you going?" Robert asked.
"To sleep," Wylis replied lazily. "And then to bread and meat."
Robert laughed from the throne and just nodded, waving at Wylis. There was nothing left to do anyway, and Robert saw the efforts Wylis had put into everything.
He was personally confused about what to reward the champion of the rebellion. A simple lordship felt too small and already expected. He had discussed it with Jon, Eddard, and Hoster. Since marriage was out of the question, they had to think a lot. Robert wanted to make him the Master of Laws in his Small Council. But Jon rejected the idea, understanding that Wylis wouldn't accept it.
"Sleep well, my friend," Robert muttered from his throne, watching Wylis's back as he vanished out of the door.
####
Wylis wanted to sleep. But he couldn't.
Once again, he was back at digging a tunnel, joining his new room with the old tunnel he'd made. Thankfully, it wasn't that far away. But still, he had to dig.
At least he wasn't hungry anymore, and even had more food with him for Elia and her children.
Once back in the main tunnel, he went down, aiming east. And in no time, he arrived at the small, secret room.
"Wylis?!"
He heard Rhaenys' chirping voice right away. Using his torch, he made sure they could see his face as he exited the tunnel and stood up like a giant monster in the dark. It was indeed dark there, even though it was sunny outside.
"What in the name of the… why’re you near bare as a babe?" Brandon barked from the side.
Wylis was indeed half naked, wearing no tunic above. "How many spare, clean tunics do you think I have? Just two! Now climb back, keep left, and wait in the room. Robert and Ned have arrived."
"Aerys?"
"Mad King?"
Elia and Brandon asked at the same time.
"I put an end to him. For the better, too. He had wildfire laid beneath King’s Landing. I slew him before he could give the word," Wylis said and gave them a quick recap of what happened above.
"I'll go first." Brandon lit the old torch and crawled into the tunnel.
“Brandon.” Wylis stopped him for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone about them.”
“Didn’t have to tell me that.” Brandon waved and left.
Wylis finally focused on the three. "I brought something to eat."
"Yesh! I want food!" Rhaenys jumped and looked in the bag Wylis had brought.
Elia remained seated as she was nursing the little babe. Usually, she'd have covered herself in shame or turned. But she couldn’t be bothered with that now, her mind occupied with fear and desperation to survive. "What will happen to us?"
Wylis sat down as well, leaning against the wall. Without asking, little Rhaenys walked over and sat down on his lap, a piece of bread in her hand. He had no idea why she was so carefree around the man most feared.
“I left bones in your chamber, false ones, and burned the place with wildfire. Robert, Tywin… soon the whole realm will think Aerys killed you. What comes next rests with you. I can send you south to Dorne, though Robert’s wrath will follow." He explained, giving her the options. "Or, you can turn from thrones and dragons. You were caged here long enough. I’m no great lord of a great house, only a man starting anew. Come with me to my castle, raise your children in peace, and let them grow without fear.”
"Umh…" Elia suddenly moved little Aegon.
Wylis's eyes fell on her bare breast for a short moment, then he looked away.
"Why are you doing this, truly?" Elia asked, covering herself.
Wylis rubbed his chin, humming. "I wonder that too. Could have let you die… but."
He looked at the little girl on his lap, chewing bread like it was the tastiest food known to her.
"What is her fault? Mad King was insane, filthy, a beast in flesh." Wylis didn't hold back words. "Rhaegar was no different. Chasing prophecies, willing to abduct a woman to breed her for said prophecy. But you were a caged bird, and these two are just the unlucky ones doomed by the place and hour of their birth.”
Elia heaved a deep breath. “And if they learn the truth? If Robert comes for us, how will you stop him, keep them from reaching us?”
"It depends on you. If you have any Blackfyre ambitions, go to Dorne. If you're truly willing to carve a new life, come with me. It took me a year to become a knight, two to become a lord… well, I will in a day or two. What will I be in another year?" Wylis gently pushed Rhaenys off himself and stood up. "I'll leave in four days. Until then, you must stay hidden. I’ll see to your food, your water, and your raiment. You’ve that time to choose your path."
"I still don’t understand why," Elia also stood up. "If I go home to Dorne, the burden falls on Dorne. Why take us with you? Would that not be a greater burden?"
“Because these two aren’t the only dragons I mean to save, Your Grace,” he said, letting the weight of it sink in. “If I save them, I’ll save them all. But heed my words, if you go to Dorne, I can assure you, House Martell and many others won’t survive."
Elia frowned. Dorne had never been conquered in its entire history. They didn't kneel to dragons, so Wylis' words made even less sense to her.
"How can you be so certain?"
Wylis grabbed his torch and moved to enter the tunnel. Thought he did answer her.
"Because Dorne will face me."
####
When Wylis came out of the tunnel back in his room, he found Brandon sitting on his bed, reclined, relaxed.
"Ready to go out?"
"I'll wait."
Wylis got to wiping himself clean with a wet cloth. "Wait? Why? Ned's going to leave soon for Storm's End."
"I know."
"Let me guess. Don't want to face Ned?" Visit g.com for the full chapter.
"Gods, Wylis, what am I meant to say to him?" Brandon rubbed his face, half-laughing. "Well done on becoming Lord of Winterfell since everyone thought I was worm food? Fine work planting a child in the woman promised to me? Be sure to guard her fine tits with honor, eh? I can't live in Winterfell, Wylis. Eddard will watch me like a hawk, convinced I mean to steal Catelyn back into my bed."
"Hmm…" Wylis moved and sat beside Brandon on the bed. "Knowing you, the chances of that happening aren't impossible."
"..."
"I would never do that to my brother."
"Even after a barrel of ale."
"..."
"Aye, agreed there." Brandon sighed; even he knew himself. "Let Ned go. I'll speak with Robert afterwards.”
"I'm going to sleep." Wylis pushed Brandon off the bed and laid down.
"Wait!" Brandon jumped back on the bed and shook Wylis. "I'll join you! You'll have a castle soon, won't you?"
"Piss off. Only folks in my castle will be me and all the women I'll breed, who'll bear me hundreds of children."
"..."
Brandon froze for a moment. "Y-You twisted fuck! And you’ve the nerve to call me a deviant?"
"You did kiss a donkey once, with tongue and all."
"I was drunk out of my damn mind!"
"Sure, asskisser." Wylis rolled to the side and closed his eyes. "I'll think about it."
Brandon smirked, nodding, and laid down on the floor too. After sleeping on wet stone for a year, he was used to it.
At least the floor had a damn carpet now, and dry.
####
The next day,
Eddard Stark was gone. Robert was urgently crowned that morning, with the High Septon in attendance. There weren't many lords around, just Jon, Tywin, and a few Crownlands' nobles.
Of course, Wylis was also present. It was hard to find good clothes, but when the new King commanded, the maids ran around to patch him up with something good. Eventually, he donned a noble-looking black tunic, gold embroidered surcoat, matching breeches, fine leather belt and boots, and, as custom for a Northern noble, a fur coat, only his was black in color except for the fur, which was grey.
"Come here, Wylis!" Robert howled from his throne as soon as the crowning ceremony was over. By custom, Jon and Tywin should have been the first to kneel and take vows of fealty to the new King, as they belonged to Great Houses.
But it was Wylis, passing through the small crowd of men to reach the throne. At the same time, Robert had gotten up from his seat, grumbling nonsense as he stepped down.
"Seven hells, first the robes, then that blasted cape, and now this crown. I’m dressed up finer than a maiden off to her first bedding." Robert mumbled complaints that only Wylis could hear that close.
Wylis chuckled and stood face to face with the new King. "Crown suits you."
"Ha! I don't feel any different. Haven't started shitting gold yet, so I suppose being king isn't so grand after all." Robert grinned and glanced aside. "Lord Arryn, give me the grant."
Wylis knew what was coming and got down on one knee, ready for the moment he'd been waiting for so long. A lord, at last. A lesser lord, sure, but at last, with his own lands to rule over. With his own castle. With his own little villages and towns. He felt excited like a kid.
"I, Wylis Kaiser, by m…"
"Ah, enough kneeling, Wylis. You've drank with me, bled with me, bled for me, and Seven hells, kept me alive when I was down. That’s worth more than half the realm. No more calling you knight. By my crown, I name you Lord of Ramsgate. Lands, seat, and folk are yours now. Keep your sword sharp and your hall ready, for I’ll be there soon enough, raising hell at your feast."
As soon as Wylis stood up and took the rolled grant from Robert's hand, a blue screen flashed before his eyes.
Ting!
[Host's Status Changed!]
[Previous Status - Champion Knight (Legacy Duration - 120 Years)]
[Current Status - Lesser Lord (Legacy Duration - 200 Years)]
Ting!
[Life Quest Completed - From Knight To Lord
Description: You have shed blood, but more you have spilled. You have won battles, women, and now this title. This is the path of a Tyrant, do not falter, do not sit easy. This is only the beginning.
Reward: 4X multiplier to strength increase for making love with each noble, title partner.
Reward: New Legacy feature unlocked.]
New feature?!
"You are welcome any time, Your Grace." Wylis wasn't supposed to, but since Robert shifted, he gave him a brotherly hug back.
After that, he moved to the side and let the others take their oath. Robert didn't stop them, however. He made them take the entire oath.
Meanwhile, Wylis was busy looking at the new unlocked feature.
[Legacy(Unlocked) (Trueborn & Bastards) - A Tyrant is born not from name but fame. Spread the name and the seed, Trueborns or Bastards.
-> Trueborn - Each Trueborn adds 5 years to lifespan and unwavering loyalty.
-> Bastards - Each Bastard adds 1 year to lifespan and unwavering loyalty.
->Customizer - Customize your newborn. A Tyrant's seed must not stand weak.
Tyrant's Fief - A Tyrant's eye sees all. Every blade of grass, every breath taken. (Locked - No fief found.)]
Tyrant's fief? Wylis pondered over what it could be. It gave him even more reasons to rush and reach Ramsgate. But he wasn't done yet. Robert had promised further rewards, anything he desired.
"Wylis."
"Lord Arryn." Wylis stopped zoning out and focused on the new Lord Hand. "The brooch suits you."
"But it's a heavy burden," Jon said, and suddenly lowered his voice. "Visit my tower before sunset. I'll record your new coat of arms and… I have some matters to discuss."
What matters?
"I'll be sure to reach you, my Lord."
Wylis didn't dwell on that for long, however. A small feast was held that day, so he had enough folks around to speak with and form some new connections.
####
Knock! Knock!
"Lord Arryn? You were looking for me?" Wylis arrived at the Tower of the Hand.
"Come in."
When the old voice came, Wylis pushed the door and walked inside. The Hand's solar was filled with sunlight as it resided in a tower. The large windows let in plenty of sunlight. But it was empty right now as Jon Arryn was still settling in.
"Have a seat, Wylis."
Wylis took the chair by the main table. He watched the old man place some books on the shelves. In his sixties, Jon looked thin, but nowhere near kicking the bucket.
He's avoiding me?
Wylis noticed the strangeness in the way Jon Arryn carried himself. The man kept stacking books, glancing at him with side eyes. If their eyes were to meet, the man quickly looked away each time. That continued for a while before he finally turned and took the seat beside Wylis, not the main lord's chair.
“How do you find the weight of lordship? It sits heavy, yet I think you’ll bear it better than most,” Jon said and patted Wylis' shoulder. "When do you leave?"
"In three days," Wylis responded, sensing something was amiss. Jon usually smiled while speaking with him. But that day, there was a veiled look to him, eyes that looked exhausted, and lips that counted every word before speaking.
Jon Arryn nodded for some time, his gaze down, not on Wylis' face.
“Is something weighing on you, my Lord?” Wylis asked him plainly. "If there's something I can do to help, just say it."
"There is," Jon responded, his voice barely a breath above a whisper. "There is, Wylis… There certainly is."
Creak!
Jon stood up suddenly and walked over to the window. He gazed out while speaking, as if trying to hide his face and expressions. His shoulders looked particularly stiff.
What's going on? I don't remember something like this.
"Ned has produced an heir already. Our vows were spoken at the same time. Yet the Eyrie remains without an heir," Jon said, each word as if broken, uttered after a struggle. "There were efforts made. Maesters offered counsel. It is my years that weigh against me, Wylis."
While Wylis had already started to get some ideas, he chose not to speak. Even Jon stopped talking, his shoulders shaking.
This is out of nowhere. Wylis pondered over the matter. Jon… Can't ruin relations with the new Hand.
"What does Lady Lysa say?" He asked eventually.
"Aversion at first. But then came acceptance," Jon responded, his fist clenched. "Hoster spoke to me often enough. He wished Lysa had been yours, if fate had been kinder."
Fuck that! Like I'd take that insane woman!
“Wylis… the thought first came to me at the feast after the Trident. When that woman of yours came forward with your bastard… I've thought plenty.” Jon’s voice faltered, and for a while he said nothing. “Will you?”
Wylis had understood everything by then. He could see why Jon was being so indirect. It was a heavy wound on his mind, his manhood. It was a topic of shame and humiliation.
"What if, once this is done, you come to loathe me for it?"
Jon leaned forward over the window's edge, his head drooped low, shaking. "If anyone, I'll loathe myself, Wylis."
Cross-armed, Wylis pondered over his choice. He could do it. Lysa, while not as stunning as Catelyn, still had her charm, especially now since she was just nine and ten—Petite and slender. The main reason behind his hesitation was Jon's long-term reaction.
By putting himself in Jon's shoes, he tried to imagine things. And yes, he'd think of the man who fucked his wife every time he'd try to bed her. He might not even be able to love her. To begin with, Wylis would rather not have a child than force himself to go through that self-inflicted humiliation.
But the key difference was mentality. Wylis had the luxury to think like a modern man of his time. Where blood ties mattered less. What mattered was talent. In comparison, for Jon, having an heir was a must. Even if not of his own blood, it was necessary to fake it.
"If you're willing, nod. If you're unwilling, shake your head." Jon finally turned and stared into Wylis' eyes, shame dimming his gaze. “We never spoke. We never met today. Let no word of this pass our lips again… Let it die here… whatever your choice.”
"Before I respond. Why me?"
"Because Ned wouldn't. His honor wouldn't allow it. You're not as rigid as he, and…" Jon turned away once more, and an audible gulp escaped his lips. "You're… admired by women."
Lysa, you mean?
At last, Wylis got up from the chair and walked over to the door. But before leaving, he spoke without looking, feeling Jon's gaze on his back.
"I’ll take the burden. Just don’t despise me for it."
"I would never."
Thud!
With that, Wylis left.
Jon, now alone, dragged himself to the chair, poured himself a cup of wine, and drowned away all the shame and humiliation. But it was impossible not to hate.
Not Wylis, but himself. For ruining a young woman’s life by marrying her.
####
What the hell am I? Breeding stallion?
The next night, Wylis left his bedchamber. It was the hour of the ghosts, midnight. He'd purposefully chosen his personal chambers outside Maegor's Holdfast since the damn place didn't have that many secret passages.
No words were exchanged, just hints. That night, he was to meet with Lysa alone and do the deed. Initially, the Tower of the Hand was chosen, but Wylis refused. By fucking Lysa in Jon's own bedchamber, the man would imagine it every day while resting there.
So, a different room was picked by Wylis. It was a bedchamber with one single hidden passage leading inside. Thankfully, Varys was still being held in the Black Cells, awaiting his trial. The man would be forgiven later, but for now, there weren't that many spies in the Red Keep.
Wylis was still careful and used Earthbending to enter the hidden passage directly through his personal bedchamber. From there, holding a torch, he walked all the way to the other bedchamber.
At last, he moved the secret entrance, which was a wooden cabinet. He pushed it aside, making some sound. He saw light coming from inside the bedchamber already. A woman's yelp was audible.
"My Lady." Wylis poked his head inside first and pushed the rest of the cabinet. "Apologies for being late."
"No need… Ser… I mean, my Lord."
Wylis smiled, bombarding the usefulness of his handsome face and perfect smile. "Just Wylis will do, my Lady. I prefer that."
"Then… Call me Lysa."
Creak!
He pushed the cabinet back into place before finally turning to look at the woman. It was an old dusty room, but the bed was clean for the occasion. There were a few candles here and there, but that was it.
Not bad.
He eyed the woman, noble in appearance, not the fat and ugly look she'd one day be. Right now, she had the charm of a young lady, nineteen, eyes blue, face nervous but blushing red. She was sitting on the bed's side, feet dangling. Her gown was noble, wide-necked, full-sleeved, but he could make out her figure, a tame hourglass, breasts high and taut.
He could see the resemblance to Catelyn, and perhaps that was why Lysa had a fantastic bosom as well. Yet, Wylis didn't just pounce on her like a madman. He had no reason to hurt her or hate her at this moment. It was a give-and-take situation; she'd get a child and he'd get a year of life.
Shorter than Catelyn, though.
"Lysa." Wylis took her name as hoarsely as he could, filling it with passion. "Before we begin…"
He walked to her and knelt on one knee like a knight. Then, he placed his right hand on her lap, getting a feel of her soft thighs. But his hand rested there on the back, calling for her hand.
Lysa gulped, her blush noticeable. A sin in itself for a married woman. Yet, she gave him both her hands, like surrendering it all to him. This chapter was copied from novelping dot com without permission.
Wylis caressed her hand while looking into her eyes. Even kneeling, his face was right in front of her. "I know this night is not right in the eyes of others. What we’re about to do is forbidden, and when it ends, we must carry silence with us. Yet before we take that step, I must know from your own lips. Are you willing to do this?"
"I… I am, Wylis." Lysa muttered.
"I am? I will be putting my seed in you, Lysa. Do you know that?" He asked her, though he felt like he was toying with her. One look at her face and he already knew she was looking forward to it.
"I know… I… I want you to do that."
"Do what?"
"Put your seed in me."
Wylis smiled breathily and stood up again, a towering figure from up close, his shadow cast on her frame. He started taking his tunic off first, baring all his steel-like muscles. He eyed her and saw her gawking at his frame.
"Here." Wylis took her hand and made her feel his hard abs, each as if carved. “Lysa… for this night, let the world fall away. Nothing matters beyond these walls. Only you and me. Can you?”
Lysa nodded furiously.
“Now…” he loosened the ties at his waist. “It shames me to ask, but better I know. For a man built as I am, it is easy to give too much. Tell me, would you have me passionate… or rough?”
"Mmmh…" Lysa was already lost, her face leaned closer, her nose already touching his abs. "R-Rough… Wylis."
Oh? He was surprised. But realising that she likely only ever knew gentle, passionate sex all her life, he understood that desire. Tonight was a chance she'd never get again.
"Very well, Lysa."
Wylis easily let his breeches fall to the floor. He wore no smallclothes that night, and his half-erect cock surged forward with sudden freedom, heavy and dark-veined, pulsing like it had been waiting for this moment.
The sheer sight of it made Lysa gasp audibly, her lips parted, her cheeks crimson.
"You said rough… Lysa."
Before she could respond, Wylis seized a fistful of her thick auburn hair. It was long enough to tumble to her waist, but he bunched it tight in his rough grip, pulling until her neck craned back and her startled face was dragged straight into his sweltering heat.
“Ummmh—!” she moaned, muffled against his cock. Her hands clutched nervously at the skirts covering her knees, the fabric twisting in her fists as her blue eyes widened.
He gave her no chance to hesitate. His thick manhood shoved between her thin red lips, cramming past her tongue and filling her throat in one relentless push.
“Ghk!” Lysa gagged instantly, her whole body jolting as her mouth was split wide open around his girth. Her eyes watered, lashes wet. This was new. No man before had done her like that.
Wylis pulled back, his cock glistening with sticky spit, strands of slick clinging from her lips to his swollen crown. The sight of her mouth watering for him made his shaft pulse hard. He muttered with a smile, “Ah, forgive me, Lysa. My size can be… overwhelming. If it’s too much, I’ll be more gentle.”
“No—mmmm!” Lysa shook her head furiously and leaned in again, practically gobbling his cock back down herself. She gagged hard as she tried to impale her throat on him once more, but he was swelling to full stiffness now, thicker and heavier, impossible to take whole.
Her jaw stretched painfully wide, her lips straining around the fat middle of his length, the thickest part of him. Drool spilled down her chin, her voice lost to gags and muffled whimpers.
He took both reins of her hair now, splitting the locks into two bundles in his fists. With both hands he pulled hard, steering her head like a rider on a mount. His hips bucked, ramming his cock in deep and yanking it back out, over and over. The chamber filled with obscene, wet music. Her gagging chokes, her muffled moans, the lewd slurp of spit being churned inside her mouth.
Each thrust sent shockwaves up his cock. Her lips sealed so tight around him that every pull left a hungry suction clinging to his crown, while her throat spasmed with every plunge. It felt like her mouth was milking him already, the heat of her gullet swallowing around him, eager, messy, desperate. His balls swung heavy against her chin as he drove himself deeper, claiming her face.
“Ghk! Umm—hpphh… Ohhh…! Ump—ck!” Lysa’s noises turned animal, half-gag, half-moan, her whole body trembling as she drowned in his musk, her nose pressed against the scorching heat of his groin.
He felt no guilt in treating her mouth like a fuckhole to be used. Even if he hadn’t fucked her face, he wouldn’t have kissed her lips. Lysa was… useful, fertile, but emotionally unappealing. He wanted her to have his babe, not her utterly mad devotion.
“Let’s start the… main event.” Wylis finally pulled out with a wet pop, spit and slick hanging from his tip in glistening strands.
She barely had time to cough before he seized the hem of her gown and yanked it upward. The fabric rustled as he pulled it over her head, forcing her to rise to her feet in the process. The garment dropped to the floor, leaving her bare.
“Umm… You’re beautiful, Lysa,” he admitted, his eyes feasting on her body. Her bosom was no less enticing than Catelyn’s, though perkier, the cherry-pink nipples tight against cool air. Her pale Riverlands skin glowed in the candlelight, her belly flat, her legs soft and plush, and between them, her cunt already slick and glistening with need.
"Against this wall here, Lysa."
He guided her firmly, pushing her face-first against the rough stone wall. Her breasts pressed flat against it, her bare skin shivering at the cold. She was too short for him to take from behind while standing, and he had no desire to crouch. Normally, he’d tease a woman, tongue and fingers until she screamed for his cock. But with Lysa, he didn’t feel it.
He wasn’t there to make her fall in love with him. He was here to breed her, to earn those years. The babe would live a life of luxury under Jon’s care anyway. That was the point of bedding noble women.
“Oooooh! Gods!” Lysa yelped when her feet were suddenly lifted off the floor, her body hoisted effortlessly by Wylis’ massive hands gripping her smooth, curving sides. She dangled there, helpless in his grasp, leaned forward, her breasts swaying as the stone wall scraped against her flushed cheek.
"Line it up, Lysa. My hands are busy."
Still pinned to the wall, she trembled but obeyed. One hand fumbled down between her thighs, her fingers brushing the throbbing shaft that pressed so insistently between her thigh gap. She gulped, feeling the sheer girth of it, already knowing the ache it was about to bring her. Shuddering, she angled the fat, wet crown against her pussy lips, guiding the beast to her own entrance.
“You can…” Wylis pushed forward just enough for the tip to pry her pink petals apart, the pressure threatening to split her already. “…moan and cry loud. The walls are safe—oh!”
He meant the stone walls, but the real walls, the clenching velvet inside her, were about to be torn apart. His cock was already stretching her obscenely, wedging her open wider than she’d ever been in her life.
“Gods! Oooh gods, yes! Yes! I can’t—I can’t stop shaking!” Lysa gasped, voice shrill with delirium. Her cries poured out unbidden, her mind unraveling with each inch that pushed inside. Lifted like that, she was all under his command.
“So thick! So deep! Jon could never—never! By the gods, you’re a true man, a real man!” Her voice broke into laughter and moans all at once, half-crazed, her back arching helplessly, her fingers clawing at the wall.
Her words stroked Wylis’ pride, but the venom against Jon soured it instantly. The man had already swallowed his shame to beg this of him. Wylis pushed her face harder into the cold stone and rammed himself deeper, silencing her wicked mouth with raw force.
Lysa felt it everywhere. His cock cleaved her petite cunt apart, opening channels untouched even by her husband’s seedless efforts. It was as though he carved her body anew, molding her from the inside to fit his size alone. She gasped when she felt the thick bulge in her belly, her free hand flying to her stomach. She whimpered when she felt it there, pressing against her palm, as though her womb itself was being speared through.
Held high in his grip, she was nothing more than a doll for him to fuck. Wylis’ hands clamped her hips like iron, dragging her light frame back and forth along his cock as though she was just a sheath to move on and off his swollen cock. Her toes curled uselessly in the air as he set the pace, each thrust hammering deeper, her cunt stretched wide and clinging.
“Ahhh… Ahhh—Wylis! Gods!” she wailed, forehead smearing sweat against the wall.
Her arms quivered with the effort of holding herself against the wall, but the truth was her body was only upright because of his sinewy length driving her forward. Her breasts swayed wildly, nipples stiff from cold air and dripping sweat, her cunt spasming tight around him, milking every inch of his shaft as though her body had just found real ecstasy.
"OOOOOH!"
Her scream split the chamber as her climax tore through her. Her pussy convulsed violently, a gush of hot juices flooding over his thrusting hardness. It sprayed down her thighs, a gooey mess that trickled in shining drips, rolling down her dangling legs until it dripped from her dainty toes to the floor.
Shlk–Squelch! Shkl–plap!
The sound of it was obscene, wet slaps echoing louder now as her body trembled in ruin.
“Gah! Take… it… Lysa!” Wylis growled, the final thrust stealing his breath. He rammed forward, burying his cock to the very root, his balls slapping against her soaked cunt as he crushed her against the wall. His chest pressed into her slick back. Then, he erupted.
Gush after gush surged inside her, thick baby cream spurting into her battered womb. His cock throbbed violently, pumping heavy ropes of virile ointment until her belly clenched around the flood.
“Aaaaangh! S-sooo much… ohhh!” Lysa howled at the ceiling, eyes rolling back, her voice breaking into a sobbing moan. She felt bloated, stuffed, her womb swelling as though his seed alone was filling her full. Every drop made her weaker, more undone, until she sagged limply in his grasp.
"Let's continue on the bed."
“W-What?” she gasped, still half-gone, drool at her lips.
She hadn’t even caught her breath before Wylis swung her away from the wall and tossed her onto the bed.
She bounced once with a yelp before his massive body loomed over her. With no pause, he seized her legs, pushed them high until her knees nearly pressed to her chest, and crouched low over her entrance. His cock, still soaked and dripping with seed, speared straight back into her. The swollen flesh sword bottomed out instantly, stirring the mess inside her, forcing his seed to bubble out and spill.
Wylis’s heavy balls slapped wetly against her folds. He looked down at her flushed face, her cheeks as red as her hair, her body shining with sweat under him. Each piston of his cock made her breasts bounce and jiggle violently between her raised knees.
Lysa’s lungs fought for air, her whole back arching as her knees nearly pressed into her tits. But she loved it, relishing the way her cunt was splayed so wide, so suddenly, her body jostled with every brutal plunge. Bliss tore through her nerves, from her belly to her brain, until she was shuddering in rapture. She felt nothing underneath him, in seize, in weight, in control, and it tickled her brain just right.
Her hands roamed feverishly, clutching her own pale, sweat-slick body. She seized her tits, squeezing them tight, pinching and twisting her swollen nipples to heap more torment onto herself. Her mouth gaped, whimpering through the pleasure.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
He plowed her pussy mercilessly. Every thrust was as deep as his cock could bury, rutting her balls-deep without pause. Wylis rarely unleashed himself this hard on a woman, especially the first time, but Lysa was for this night alone. He’d give her everything, wring every drop of pleasure from her, and leave her ruined for any other man.
Lysa saw stars, actual sparks flashing behind her eyelids, her senses drowned beneath the relentless pleasure. Her body writhed under him, helpless to the hammering. All her mind could think of was more, more, more!
Wylis pushed her legs higher and higher until her lower body was raised completely in the air. Only her shoulders and head still touched the bed, while he jackhammered down into her like her pussy belonged to a whore, not a noble lady..
“Mmmmh…ahhh—I… I’m… spilling again! Oh! I never knew… I could—Aaaaaah!” Lysa shrieked, her words breaking into delirium.
Wylis smirked down at her shattering form, watching as another messy climax frothed around his pistoning cock. Her juices bubbled and spilled down her folded belly, smearing across her swells as they jolted under him.
When her convulsions eased, he leaned his weight down on her, never once leaving her stuffed love hole. His thrusts shortened, slower but so punishingly deep that her nails raked his chest and shoulders, clawing him in mindless greed.
Her insides shifted with every thrust, molded to his shape, utterly claimed. She was thin, delicate, a slender Tully girl made Arryn lady, but now nothing more than a fuck-toy wrung out by the most charming brute in the realm.
“Aaaagh… another one!” Wylis growled, stuffing himself deep and grinding hard against her womb as his cock convulsed.
He erupted again. His batter poured thick and hot, spurting in heavy gushes, flooding her used cunt. The first shot blasted straight deep, the force of it making her shudder, and then more came, each spurt spilling and overflowing, sticky warmth leaking past his thick shaft.
It gushed down her stretched hole, coating her insides with such a mess it burbled wetly around his cock, froth bubbling at her slit as he kept pumping. His hot butter spread into every crevice, drenching her cunt, sowing her womb, until his balls were drained but still pressed hard against her ass.
Ting!
[Name: Lysa Arryn née Tully
Age: 19
Occupation: Lady of the Eyrie, Wife
Current Loyalty: 90%
Status: Impregnated]
Ninety?! What?
“Aaaaahh! B-blessed—! Ohhh Gods, so full! I feel it, Wylis—I feel it! You’ve… you’ve blessed me with a babe already!” she sobbed, breaking into madness. Her back arched high off the bed as her belly twitched under the flood.
“Ugh!” Wylis grunted, finally collapsing forward, his weight pinning her down flat. His cock pulsed inside her sore, stretched hole, still warm and twitching within her ruined depths. “You’re… doing wonderful.”
"Thank you… Wylis."
But Wylis wasn’t done. He rolled his hips, still hard enough to slide within her sloppy, seed-swollen cunt. This time, his hands closed around her tits, kneading them hard as he leaned low and dragged his wide tongue over her nipples, tasting her.
When he lifted his head, he stared at her face from between her smoldering valley, eyes glinting.
“A bit too early to thank me, Lysa. We’ve got… the whole night.”
"W-Whole night?"
Of course, Lysa had never been fucked by a man at the peak of his physique. And she was in one hell of a ride.
A night she'd tell stories of to her grandchildren.
####
The next day,
Wylis didn't see Lysa again after the previous night. He didn't look for Lord Arryn either. He spent some time with Robert, eating and laughing, the rest he spent within his little bedchamber, locked away. He took food and water to Elia and her children, and the rest of the time was for…
Jackpot!
Digging for treasures had suddenly turned exciting.
After finding the location of the forgotten Valyrian Steel and dragon eggs, he dug like a madman. Right underneath, there were at least a dozen lost Valyrian Steel items. There were also five dragon eggs. Wylis had already dug out three of those eggs, but they were all broken, cracked open completely.
He had no idea how the eggs got there. Maybe some past Targaryen hid them. Maybe someone stole them from the Targaryens and hid them. Wylis couldn't care less. As for the Valyrian Steel, it made more sense.
However, just because the treasure was Valyrian Steel, it didn't mean there was a lot. He'd found one single ring of a Valyrian Steel chainmail. He'd found a tiny finger from a Valyrian steel gauntlet. He had yet to find anything whole.
"Oh?!"
And that was when he came across the metal box.
Gods, if you're listening, just one. I'll go to Essos later.
Looking like a dirt-covered giant tunnel rat, with a single lantern on his side, sitting in the dark tunnel, he held the metal box on his lap and carefully pried it open with his dagger.
Click!
Something clicked, and the box's lid came loose.
Just one… Just one.
Mumbling to himself, he lifted the lid slowly. It was the box itself that had made him so hopeful.
"..."
He was left speechless.
He licked his dry lips, making them wet again.
"A whole, golden… fucking… dragon egg! It’s still intact!"
Ting!
But the excitement was spoiled by the flash of the blue screen.
[New Main Quest - Dragon Breeder
Description - You have saved the dragons, but will they ever fly? The choice is yours.
Reward - Dragon Whisperer & Fire Immunity]
Hmm? Aren't they skills from the… store?
Wylis quickly pulled up the shop's menu and scrolled down. This was the first time the Tyrant's Squire was suggesting such a reward. A reward so great that it made him gulp. It seemed like there were no strings attached, but Wylis knew it couldn't be that simple. Bringing dragons back was risky.
But when he looked at the price in lifespan terms, he felt lost.
[Fire Immunity - 60 Years]
[Dragon Whisperer - 140 Years]
NSFW ART now up on and SUBSTAR