Was it a wise decision to attack the man whose rise to fame was killing dozens of men in a large-scale battle?
No.
Was it wise to attack a seven-foot-tall giant known to be undefeated?
No.
Did they still do it?
Yes.
"Haaaa!"
The six men behind Wylis aimed their spears and drove them towards his back.
Wylis didn't waste a second and leapt forward, away from them, both his arms spread wide as he knocked straight into the two fish sellers. He knocked them out cold with two punches to the face before grabbing his sword and turning.
"I commend your confidence. Too bad, it's overconfidence." Wylis kicked the fish table so hard that all the fish sprinkled everywhere like raindrops. He used that moment of distraction to jump forward and swing his blade.
Clank!
The men tried to use their spears to block, but they were of too low a quality. Wylis cut through them and then slit their bellies or chests. He ducked low at the barrage of stabs and swung, slicing legs entirely, leaving nothing but gore and screams.
"No running."
As the last two tried to run, Wylis made them trip, face-first onto the ground. The next thing they knew, he was sliding his sword through their hearts, killing them instantly.
Then he looked for Brennard and found him trying to run away. Too bad, the man was too old and lacked speed. Still, Wylis grabbed a sizable fish from the ground, aimed, and threw it at the man’s head. Brennard fell hard, knocking both his old knees on the dirt.
Having done all that, Wylis hadn't even broken a sweat. They were far too easy for him, but at the same time, he saw why they were dangerous for smallfolk. Any sizable group with a few swords and spears could scare a village or a small town.
Quickly, he tied ropes around the legs of the two fake fish sellers, dragged them towards the groaning Brennard, and tied his legs as well. After that, he dragged the three men through the entire town.
The shops and streets weren't as empty this time. Men, women, and children started to emerge from their homes to watch the scene. Wylis saw some of them sneer towards Brennard, and others appeared hopeful.
From the docks, he reached the place that seemed like the town square. It was a large, round opening, dirt covering everything, muddy and wet, with a single wooden stage at the center for executions and other matters. A well was near it. One glance around and he noticed various shops and storage houses. It was mostly carpenters there, one blacksmith whose forge he noticed, and some fish and other raw food sellers.
They were looking at him.
Better make it clear now.
"I am Wylis Kaiser, Lord of Ramsgate by the will of King Robert Baratheon!" Wylis raised his voice so all could hear. "I know of the wrongs Brennard has done to you, and he shall answer for them. But I will not see this place wasted. Tell your kin and neighbors, I will call for workers soon. Ten strong men I shall take as my men-at-arms, and I’ll need smiths, carpenters, merchants, and builders. Ramsgate will be forgotten no longer!"
Done with that, he dragged the men all the way into the castle. Though he didn't shy away from looking around at the town to see what he was dealing with. As far as he could see, the town was divided into the port side and the northern side, divided by the main, wide, dirt road leading from the town's entrance to the castle.
Finally, he entered the castle, which looked more like a prison fortress. It was clearly not designed for a luxury residence like the Red Keep. It was too brutalistic, grey stone walls going high, towers, and inner courtyards. It suited him, though, considering the women he planned to hide in there.
"Lead me to the dungeon!" Wylis ordered one of the two remaining guards, who stood right where he had left them. They were shaking in his presence, barely able to mumble a word. But they followed his command anyway.
They led him downstairs through a well-hidden door. Using torches to light up the way, they soon reached the cold dungeon, which was surprisingly not damp. The walls were all stone, and not the type that was built, but rather carved.
Good for me.
Since the castle sat on a raised rocky plateau, it was naturally protected to a small degree. For starters, Wylis liked it. With a moat, the castle would become impenetrable.
In time, they reached the prisoner holding area. It was nothing special, just tiny rooms carved in stone with metal-reinforced doors. There was nobody in them, thankfully.
One by one, they threw the three men in individual cells.
After locking them up, he looked at the two guards who had followed him in. "What are your names?"
"I-I'm Kyle, M'lord," said the thin, brown eyed, dark-haired man, lanky, built like a stick.
"I'm Jonos, my Lord," the other one added, so nervous he didn't even look up, keeping his messy black haired head bowed low. He was on the shorter side, however.
"Are you from Ramsgate or outside?"
"Here, M'lord. From a nearby village."
Wylis quickly checked the Tyrant's Fief and made sure they were telling the truth. Then he glared at them for some time, wondering if he should keep them or send them away. They were new recruits as far as he knew.
“We’ll discuss your employment another time. For now, fetch me a bucket of water and a cloth. Brennard and his lot will be spilling their truths before long.” Wylis waved them off and stepped into Brennard’s cell.
The cell was as basic as one could expect. It was comparable to the Red Keep's Black Cells, just less damp. It was dark with no way for sunlight to enter. Only the torch on the wall was a respite. Further, the cell was so small that a man couldn't lie flat. The stone walls were carved to make a small bench to sit on, but that was it.
Calmly, Wylis placed his massive sword against the wall and crossed his arms, staring at the old man's face. Brennard was awake and didn't dare meet his gaze, as if trying to hide his fear, panic, and guilt.
"Tell me, Brennard. Do you have a family?"
After a moment of silence, Brennard nodded. "I-I do, M'lord."
"Good, that makes it simple." Wylis stepped forward and gripped Brennard by the hair, forcing his face up. "This ends two ways. You say nothing, and I put you and your household to the sword for your crimes, or you tell me all, and only you will die. Your death is certain; the question is who goes with you."
Brennard's eyes shrank momentarily.
Wylis let go of his head and stepped back. “I’ve been riding across the realm, killing, fighting, taking what coin and bread I could. There’s no denying that killing comes easily to me. I'm sure you know it. But to find my lands in such ruin before my return, that stings. I never thought the first task in my own land would be this.
"I do not blame a man who seeks the best of his chance. If the Boltons carried gold, I see why you clasped their hand. But you didn't stop at that, did you? The little power you had, you abused it to do what? Terrorize this little town? Rape their girls? Murder their children? I will count to ten. If you don’t speak, I shall judge you and your house forfeit. The town will rejoice and celebrate your heads roll, and your sons’ and daughters’, or perhaps even grandchildren.”
With that, Wylis leaned back against the wall and started counting in a low voice. He wasn't planning on killing Brennard's family if they were innocent. But the threat from a seven-foot-tall man mattered.
"Five…"
Brennard wasn't looking at Wylis at first. But when the counting reached below five, he looked up. Whatever went on in his head, it seemed he had made up his mind.
"I-I swear it, M'lord, no treason in it. Lord Bolton's men slipped coins so they could dock and fetch timber. Ramsgate's smallfolk were meant to do the labor. We gave 'em just enough bread and pennies. Bolton fattened his purse. I took a piece, but I never crossed Lord Manderly, M'lord."
Wylis scoffed. If that wasn't betraying the Manderlys, then what was? But he saw the game. Boltons didn't lack timber; there was no doubt. But by using Ramsgate, profits could be boosted. Since the castle only had a steward who wasn't beholden to the smallfolk or responsible, it made sense.
"But you lived as a lord when you weren’t one. With the Bolton men at your back, you brought fear to these folk. You did horrible things to them. They once called Lord Manderly their master, but now they are mine. To wound them is to wound me, and that is treason, Brennard."
Just then, the two guards, Kyle and Jonos, arrived with a large bucket and a piece of cloth.
"Hold his arms and throw him down. Lay his head flat on the ground." Wylis ordered them, and they obeyed. "Brennard, tell me where the money is kept. I know you won’t speak freely, so take this as a warning. Hold him tight, press his head down by his forehead."
Wylis then put the piece of cloth over Brennard's face. It was large enough to do the job. Then, he grabbed the bucket and started to pour water evenly, continuously.
"Ghhh… Ngh!"
At first, Brennard didn't do much. But once the effects of the waterboarding started, he started thrashing his legs. But the cell was too small for him to do anything. Jonos and Kyle had him pinned. Wylis added his foot on Brennard's forehead to hold him.
What Brennard felt was like drowning. Wylis made sure to take short breaks in between so he wouldn't die so fast. It lasted a total of half an hour before Wylis finally lifted the cloth.
"P-Please! No more!"
"It rests on your word. Where is the secret hoard? Where is the gold? Do well by me, Brennard, else my displeasure will drag this on for another hour and more."
"Aye… aye, it’s…" Brennard’s voice cracked, tears streaming. "Up in the central tower… just before the door. To the right, low down. The stones… they pull free."
"Is that all?" Wylis brought the cloth closer to Brennard's face.
"No, wait, there’s more! The men you cut down, they kept hidden coin too. Jewelry, bits o’ silver. In the guardhouse, under the armor chest. Stones pull free, that’s where it lies."
Wylis glared for a moment and slowly placed the cloth back on Brennard's face.
"Wait! Wait, wait! I know, I know there's more! Down by the docks, in the dockmaster’s hall, the big one where they stack all the crates. There’s some hid away rich spice, fine silk, and glass trinkets. I swear, M'lord. That's all I know."
Spice? Wylis mused over it.
He did find the food rather bland, and spice was fucking expensive. If he could acquire some for free, it'd make food far better.
"Very well. I’ll look over each of them and judge your fate in due time." Wylis rose with the cloth in hand. "Now, the other two will face their turn."
Soon, more screams echoed from the dungeon. Wylis repeated the process. He was interested in them because they were marked as enemies on the map. Meanwhile, Brennard and the other soldiers weren't.
He wanted to know why.
And once some time passed, he knew why. They weren't ordinary blokes. They survived two hours of waterboarding and didn't break. Wylis had to send Kyle to get some tools from the blacksmith. After that, he pulled their nails one by one while also waterboarding them.
Soon enough, they broke.
"We… we came by Lord Bolton’s word. Said we were to test ye. See if ye’d stand friend or foe. If chance was given… we were to slip you poison. Didn’t matter whose side you were on."
Roose Bolton? Wylis frowned, remembering the stoic-looking man from the Battle of the Trident. He and Roose had fought side by side there multiple times. While he knew the man was untrustworthy, he didn't expect such early planning.
Maybe it changed because I took Ramsgate? Must have come as a surprise when I could have asked for any other large and flourishing place.
Robert's offer was clear. Wylis could have picked any region of Westeros other than Dorne to settle down. Heck, Robert didn't even have to do anything. All the Lord Paramounts wanted him in their lands. From Tyrells to Lannisters to Tully. Fuck, he'd bred Jon Arryn's wife, and that said something about his fame and name.
Still, Wylis didn't like the fact that the bastard wanted to kill him outright for nothing but fucking timber. Were a few dozen gold dragons worth more than his life? Moreover, what made Roose so confident? Enough to make an enemy out of him?
I hate fucking politics.
If he wanted, he could go to Dreadfort at night and butcher every single man, woman, or child with Bolton in their name. But that was the way of assassins, not knights. There was nothing to gain for that. But if he were to have justified reasons for taking care of Boltons, he'd have Robert's decree to plunder the ancient house to ruins.
But the truth was, he didn't want to deal with all that headache yet. He needed to set up his trade and castle first, work on the town, and get a proper hold on his lands.
"Alright. Now, if you want to live, make me happy. Gold, precious materials, whatever you can give. If you don't, you die."
"What makes ye think I fear dyin'?"
Wylis just shrugged and stood up. "Your choice."
By the nape, Wylis dragged the man to the adjacent cell. Then, in front of the second man, he beheaded him entirely, letting the head tumble around and blood spoil the stone floor.
"What about you?"
Torture and a severed head were enough to scare anyone. Let alone some no-name wannabe James Bond. The second man spilled even more secrets about the way the entire operation was run. How the timber was stolen and shipped off, how the money changed hands, and of course, some more secret stashes.
Satisfied with that, Wylis let the man live, locked in the cell, with his friend's severed head.
Following that, he had Kyle and Jonos clean the castle, get rid of the dead bodies he'd left in the corridor outside the bedchamber. Maids were called to wipe the blood off. They were young girls, the same he'd seen before.
Finally, he met with Elia again and explained to her the entire situation. Her face went from confusion to a frown, and then a hint of anger. She was, after all, a veteran in politics, even if she never held too much power in the Red Keep. With her and later Rhaella combined, he was hoping to never need to buy political mastery, and rather use those years on something else. But still, the option was on the table.
"You are right, my Lord. To take root here first will strengthen you far more than chasing quarrels with the Boltons. If I may… I would offer a… thought."
"Speak, I’m listening," he said with a steady smile, while Rhaenys clambered onto his back as if he were a tree. They sat close by the table in the large bedchamber.
"The Boltons are not known for kindness, nor for honor. Even the Starks tread with care when dealing with them. In times such as these, you cannot stand alone. You told me Lord Wyman Manderly owes you his life. Write to him. Tell him all. Let his strength guard your back while yours is still growing."
"I had planned as much already. I could slay Brennard without delay. But I won’t sow strife and misunderstandings with the Manderlys. After all, Brennard is still Wyman's chosen man."
"I meant more than that, my Lord. Tell them of the Boltons, of the snare they laid for you. You'll need steel, shields, veterans who can train your newly recruited men-at-arms—"
“I can manage it all,” Wylis interrupted her, sitting straight, and saving Rhaenys from falling from his back. “Swords I can make to outshine the rest, men I can train till none could match them, and ships I can raise from timber and nail. I’ll see to the work at once.”
Elia, after a moment of pause, smiled. Not in mockery, but in a strange amusement. "My Lord, I don’t question your strength or your will. Yet you’re no longer a knight with only your sword to answer for. You are a lord, with land and lives bound to you. No man can carry all burdens alone. A wise ruler gathers good men, sets their course, and trusts them to see it done. You need not swing the hammer or drill the ranks. You are the spine, and this land is the body that leans upon you."
Fuck! She's… right.
Wylis scratched his head for a moment.
He never really believed he was dumb, but he knew he wasn't one of those super geniuses either. In his past life, his luck was that he inherited a pretty well-oiled machine that was his company. He never had to do much.
How the fuck did I forget all the time I spent setting up that massive larping park? He remembered the days he spent wanting to feel like a medieval lord and knight. Back then, he wasn't the one who made castles, ships, swords, and armor. What he did was gather the best people who could do it for him.
However, there was a big difference. He was the only one with the sort of knowledge he had. He was the only one with absolute mastery in sword, fist, horses, bows, civil engineering, shipbuilding, medicine, blacksmithing, chemistry, economics, and whatnot.
Hmm… What I need is intelligent assistants like Qyburn who are eager to learn and work for me.
"That did wake me up a little," Wylis muttered. "I was indeed planning on doing it all by myself. I suppose it's better to take students under my wing whom I can teach what I know, and then have them supervise all my plans. I’ll go and write to Lord Wyman."
"I'm glad I could be of help, my Lord."
"That… You needn’t call me lord while we’re inside the castle. Just call me Wylis. Leia has for some time now." He finally grabbed the eager little Rhaenys and locked her on his lap before attacking with tickles.
"Ahaha…"
Rhaenys giggled, and Elia smiled.
Wylis liked that. That was the point, after all. Saving her was just the first step. Making sure she felt relaxed in this new life was what mattered most. And honestly, she looked stunning when she smiled.
"The maids will prepare the baths. You’re free to explore the castle after that. I'll find a few strong boys from the town to stand guard tonight."
Elia just nodded and focused on caring for the bald Aegon, now Jon.
With that, Wylis left the bechamber. He wanted to explore the castle too, after all. It was pretty big with two large courtyards, one just after the entrance, and the second one in the middle of the main keep, the most guarded part. Currently, the second courtyard was overgrown with grass and whatnot.
Seeing how private and enclosed it was, Wylis planned on turning it into a personal garden with a small fish pond, flowerbeds, some modern playground items like a see-saw and swings, and a pavilion to sit and relax. It would provide a good place for the women to gather in the future and kids to play. He did plan on having a lot of them.
As he walked around, he soon reached his main solar, the word they used for office in this world. It was on the top floor of the central tower, the highest one. The entire solar was circular and large, with multiple windows carved in the stones, and glass windows added. The floor had a large, round carpet, and the polished table sat in front of a massive, semicircular bookcase. The table had multiple thick books and some writing materials as well.
There was also a fireplace nearby. The walls on each side of the entry door were covered with ornaments, armor helmets, and exotic daggers nobody used in Westeros. The ceiling held a small chandelier that used oil to burn its multiple tips.
"Not bad." He muttered and took the seat. Brennard was clearly using the place for himself. "Let's see…"
He checked the large books. They were trade accounts, nothing too detailed. It was more basic than basic. Simple entries of how much was earned and how much was spent. No details about where the money was spent or how it was earned. Not to mention, the written amount was pathetic. It said that Ramsgate was earning mere ninety golden dragons a year. But Tyrant's Fief has written one hundred and ninety-two.
In the end, Wylis closed the book and checked the others. The large bookcase was mostly empty, save for a few tomes about history, plants, and one storybook.
Eventually, he wrote the letter for Lord Wyman and left the solar. He liked the fact that just outside his solar, a few steps down, there was a privy. As much as he disliked it, he could at least sit on it. He had plans to solve it, but not right now.
Right as Brennard had said, he went to the absolute top of the same tower, and before reaching the door that would let him reach a ladder and trapdoor to the top, he found the secret stash. It was substantial. Why money was missing from the accounts now made sense.
He found slightly over a thousand gold dragons there.
More seed money. Sweet!
He repeated the same and soon found the secret stash in the guardhouse. While not as much as Brennard, there were nearly five hundred gold dragons, a few gold jewelry pieces, and some other expensive items.
After pocketing it all, he finished roaming the castle, checking each room. The castle itself had four floors, while the four towers had five floors, and the largest, middle tower had six. There were six main rooms, the largest ones that could house Wylis as the lord and more nobles. They were all either on the ground floor or the first floor. Then, there were two dozen rooms of varying sizes. Most were small, others large. He planned on expanding them later.
On the ground floor, other than the lord's bedchamber, there were two more large bedchambers, a smaller solar for quick work, a great hall, storerooms, buttery, pantry, kitchen, guest chambers, and servants’ quarters near the kitchen.
In simple words, the castle was fucking huge. Nothing on the scale of the Red Keep or Winterfell, but in its own right, it was massive. More than what Wylis was hoping, and he loved it.
Finally, after finishing his tour, he left the castle and went to the small Sept in the town. Yes, there was a Sept, to Wylis' dismay. Manderlys were a Northern house, but their origin was from the south. They still followed the Faith of the Seven, and since Ramsgate was theirs until a few weeks ago, the town had a Sept.
Single storey, two rooms, and one small hall. That was the sept. Not even a septon was appointed to it, just a single septa. No, she wasn't beautiful. In fact, she was a local, wrinkled up and hunched.
With her help, he sent a raven to Lord Manderly.
After that, he got busy gathering people.
Men at arms, blacksmiths, carpenters, the whole package. The first goal was to make a ship, because he really needed one to save Rhaella from Dragonstone.
####
Ramsgate Town,
Chett was a nobody, just a young man of one-and-twenty, doing hard labor for the castle steward who liked to be addressed as lord.
He was among the men tasked with chopping down trees. He'd been doing it for five years now, and he really had no complaints. While his friends and colleagues cursed the castle steward and his seven generations, he didn't. In fact, he loved the work because it was so fucking simple.
Chop trees, get food, and if you're lucky, some coin. He had a mother and a little brother at home, both doing their best like him. They worked for the local weaver, earning enough to eat.
"Seven hells!"
But it all changed when he saw that beast of a man kill six armed soldiers like they were little twigs. Then he watched the man drag three by their legs. He learned that day that his employer was no longer in charge. The true Lord of Ramsgate had arrived.
At first, Chett was anxious. He didn't know if he'd get to work again and earn some food. He was no learned man, so he asked the Septa Elma about it. The old woman was the most intelligent person he knew. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
It was then he learned that their new lord was the same man he'd been hearing stories about for the past year or so. The stableboy who won, the Tyrant of the Trident, Champion of the Rebellion, Wylis Kaiser.
Not just Septa Elma, but everyone else in the town regained some hope. Hope that someone who rose from their own ranks would understand their problems.
When the next day came, he was there to report at the town square, much like all the other men. Lord Wylis came himself to recruit new men-at-arms.
"Ugh…" He annoyedly sighed when he realized he wasn't first in the line. Many others had arrived before him.
Nonetheless, Chett stood like a soldier. Never moving an inch. He just watched as Lord Wylis moved around and met others. He recognized the blacksmith's son, just a year older than him, who ran the shop as the old man had fallen sick. He recognized the old carpenter and his team. He recognized many of them, and while he couldn't hear them, they were all smiling and laughing, with Lord Wylis patting their shoulders once in a while.
As the crowd started to thin and hours went by, he noticed some men had left the line meant for those wanting to be men-at-arms. He scoffed, knowing why they left. But it didn't bother him; he was used to standing for hours and chopping trees, swinging his mighty ax.
When the sun peaked in the sky, the line thinned out even more. From the middle of the line, he found himself closer to the front.
And at last, he saw Lord Wylis sending away the last of the town's people. He felt the tall, noble lord's gaze measuring the line. He noticed the slight nod and quickly straightened his back as much as he could. He wanted to appear the tallest.
"You! The stiff one!"
"Me?" Chett confusedly looked around, patting his chest. He wasn't at the front of the line, so he didn't expect to be singled out.
"Aye, you. Come here."
Chett believed that he was fearless. But at that moment, he felt scared. He felt anxious about being sent away. But he followed the order and mechanically walked over to the lord.
"What's your name?"
"I… I'm called Chett, m-my Lord."
"How old are you?"
"One-and-twenty, my Lord."
"What did you do before?"
There, Chett frowned a little, worried that his profession of a simple lumberjack was too low for the position of men-at-arms. But he chose not to lie. "I'm a lumberjack, my Lord."
"How many trees do you cut in a day?"
For that, he answered proudly. He felled the most, after all. "Eight, when the weather’s kind. Six if the rain comes, my Lord."
Chett felt confused when the lord seemed surprised. Fearing that the lord might think he was lying, he tried to clarify. "B-Begging yer pardon, my Lord, but I ain't lying. I were the best with wood and axe both. None cut near as much as me. They gave me fine meals for my work, Gods witness."
"Have you heard the talk about Brennard? They say he’s been stealing coin, beating on the folk, and raping young women."
Chett frowned, his jaw clenched. He looked down for the first time, shedding his confident, strong demeanor. "Aye, my Lord… I heard tell of it. Old Harwin's lass, she was a gentle one, never spoke ill of none. She was taken… came back broken, purpled, and dead. Brennard swore she tumbled down the stairs. He… he never raised a hand to me, even slipped me coin at times."
"It was true. Brennard defiled her, then slew her, as he has with many others. Did you know that?"
Chett clenched his fist, never to straighten his back with pride again. He stared at his boots, his temples heavy. "I… I begged Gella we should run, my Lord. She wouldna’ heed me. Said she’d not leave Old Harwin to fend alone. S-Should've dragged her with me… she'd still be breathing."
"Did you love her?"
Chett nearly let a tear slip. He kept his eyes on the ground, even when the lord set a hand on his shoulder. "Aye... I meant to marry her, my Lord."
"You knew the truth all along?"
Chett nodded weakly.
"Then why didn't you do something? You’re only a hand shorter than I am. With the power you carry, you could’ve made a difference.”
At that point, Chett's clenched fist began shaking. He felt his nails dig into his palm. He gulped a heavy swallow. "I… I'm…"
“A nobody? A lowborn? Does that strip a man of his right to justice? Were that true, I’d still be mucking stables. Do you know why I killed Rhaegar and the Mad King?"
Chett shook his head.
"They were cut from Brennard’s cloth. Rhaegar wanted to rape a trueborn woman, and King Aerys… did it all his life. Chett, hear this well, be it mutt or monarch, once madness rules, the just path is to end them. Their station carries no weight against it."
Chett nodded, but he felt confused. He looked up at the lord's face, wondering why tell him all that. Why bother with him?
"In a few days, Brennard will be executed. And you'll swing the blade. Do it not only for yourself, but for all those who suffered by his hand.”
"M-My Lord?" Chett frowned. "I've nev—"
"Get used to it. There is much filth to be cleared from these lands. Men like Brennard must be erased from the North. Report to the castle at dawn, you will begin training as my men-at-arms. Serve faithfully, and I will make you a knight in my service."
With that, Chett watched Lord Wylis walk away. He stood in the same spot for a very long time. He saw Lord Wylis speak with a few more men, the men he recognized. Just like him, they were wronged, though not all suffered the fate of total loss. Some women do return from that castle, though not much different from a wraith—lost, silent, lifeless dolls.
In the end, Chett returned home. For years, he thought he'd long surpassed the old grief. It was beneath him to act like a sad maiden, beneath a six-foot-five man. His little brother said that, at least.
But that night, in anger, helplessness, loss, hope… Chett cried.
####
Ramsgate Castle,
Wylis had finished recruiting ten men-at-arms six days ago, bringing the total number to twelve. He needed more, however. At least thirty.
He wanted men not just to guard his castle but also to make a subdivision to patrol and police the town. Sadly, the quality of men also mattered, and he could only find ten from the town. The rest he hoped to find from villages in his fief.
For the past six days, he worked day and night, bringing the town back on track. The smallfolk had chosen to put their trust in him due to the mere fact that he was a Northerner, once a lowborn, and now a realm-wide famous warrior. They held hope, and he didn't want to let them down.
He gathered the carpenters and shared with them the design for the ship he had in mind. He had many ideas, but he chose to go small and simple at the start. After all, the carpenters were used to making furniture, not ships. It'd take them trial and error to learn everything, something Wylis wanted to avoid by personally supervising them at the start.
The goal was to go from small to the Cogs, which were single-masted ships, great for merchants, decent for wars. Eventually, he wanted to settle on Carracks, which were the real deal, three to four-masted ships, ocean-going, great tonnage, and even better as warships. Eventually, one day, he'd jump to large sailing ships.
For now, he was building a simple Knarr, the ship once used by Vikings. It was small and reliable. He had no plans of using it, however. It relied too much on manpower, and he really didn't want to sail to Dragonstone on it.
Further, he worked on making an inventory list to know all the resources at his disposal. He had yet to start teaching the blacksmiths anything since he had no need for swords, but rather other specialty items such as springs.
One thing he did start right away was setting up a temporary clinic inside his castle. The Medicine to Surgery Package was so vast that he had to start early.
While that was happening, shipments from King's Landing arrived. King Robert had sent a little too much to help him set up his castle. From curtains to candle-holders, lamps, carpets, glass decorations, even barrels of wine, and whatnot. With it also came his full-body armor, cleaned and polished.
"What? Are you sure?"
"My Lord, His Grace says you may keep the cog. He knows you’ve a mind for trade, and he wishes to aid you."
"..."
Robert fucking Baratheon. Sure knows how to make friends happy.
Honestly, it was a very big deal for Wylis. He seriously needed the ship to start gathering some materials from White Harbor. And since not many merchants visited Ramsgate, it was difficult to hire someone for it.
"Tell His Grace that I'll cherish this ship as much as he does his hammer."
"..."
The captain of the ship, a Stormlander, awkwardly nodded. But he didn't stay; it wasn't his duty. Finding the crew to man the ship was all Wylis's job. The captain boarded the second cog they had brought and left.
As soon as he had the chance, he boarded his new ship to check it out.
It was a simple cog, on the smaller side. A crew of twelve to fifteen men was needed to sail it. Manning it was the hardest part, especially finding a captain. Sure, he knew how to sail it since he knew how to make it. But doing the work himself went against Elia's genuine advice.
Maybe I should teach a few boys?
Pondering over things, he strolled back towards the castle as the sun began to sink. As he walked by the town square, the murmur of people became audible. He'd learned that most people avoided going out after sunset as their lives depended on Brennard's whims. They absolutely never allowed their children to roam outside.
But now, there were plenty of children roaming with their parents. While not rich, the place felt vibrant. It finally felt like a town. Some stalls sold cooked, salted fish; the young blacksmith was closing his shop, and the newly recruited men-at-arms were making a round in pairs. There were only two pairs; the rest guarded the castle.
And I'm their lord.
He smiled, feeling like a kid who had finally fulfilled his dream. A knight, and then a lord. Not a fake one, he really had the full power and authority of a lord.
"M'lord."
"My Lord."
The castle guards saluted him as he walked through the gates into the courtyard. Caliburn was hitched there, happily snacking on something tasty. He was already planning on getting the big boy to breed a few mares.
We ain't much different in that sense, I guess.
"My Lord."
"Chett." Wylis greeted the castle's main keep's guard, the tall man. He had a simple helmet now, but no chainmail. It would take time to fit them all with decent steel.
"My Lord, you have guests. Lady Myra received them."
"Guests?" With a frown, he rushed inside and made his way to the ground-floor solar, which was also the gathering place for them to relax during the evening.
It was decorated, had a table for him to work, many chairs and lounges, a full fireplace, and plenty of toys for the kids to play with. He and Elia usually spent their evenings there. While she would read one of the few available books, he would write plans and letters.
"There are guests—"
He pushed the door open and walked inside, only to freeze. The warmth of the hearth struck him like a wave, but more than that was the flurry of butterflies in his stomach. Elia was there, her son in her arms. Then there were two women, each with a babe in arms, and an old man who was playing with Rhaenys.
"L—Ellyn!" He called for her, his Lyanna, slim as ever, her hair brown and long, eyes grey, though her skin had gained a slight tan. His eyes washed over to Ashara, taller, similarly tanned as Lyanna, though her eyes showed doubt and nervousness.
Fuck! Then he remembered the elephant in the room. He hadn't told Elia that Lyanna was his wife, or that Ashara had his child.
"..."
Was Elia going to blame him for Rhaegar's madness now? The bastard did try to abduct Lyanna, whom he hid.
"Wylis!"
But he could've cared less. Lyanna walked past the seats and rushed towards him, holding a chunky boy in her arms. Being a slender, short woman, the baby boy indeed looked massive.
"Magnus!"
Wylis enveloped both of them in his arms, squeezing them into his chest. He just stood there for some time, letting the emotions wash over him. She was the lady of Ramsgate, after all. Soon to be the wealthiest lady in Westeros.
What followed was a deep, passionate kiss, his large arm wrapped around her delicate waist, his other arm still wrapped under his son to support him. While they held back their tongues, they both felt like lovers stranded in a desert, and each other's lips were the fountains of water.
Once he broke the kiss, he looked at his boy, his heir. A year old and heavy for his age. He quickly dotted the boy with a few kisses before looking away at Ashara.
Lyanna seemed to notice it and looked behind.
Wylis felt nervous, unaware of what the dynamics between them were. Heck, he didn't know if she had run from her house. He had yet to hear anything about it.
"What are you waiting for?" Lyanna raised her voice, eager and nudging. "Bring her here and show him the prettiest girl in the world."
Still unsure, Ashara slowly walked towards them, her violet eyes entirely focused on Wylis. Watery, as if on the verge of tears.
But she didn't have to wait as Wylis moved and wrapped her in his arms. He wasn't sure, but he saw anxiety and fear of rejection in her eyes. Their last memory together was about it, after all. He had refused Aerys' order for him to marry her. It was she who wanted to spend a night with him for the last time. The very night that resulted in her pregnancy.
He didn't know if she blamed herself for it. But he wasn't going to let her feel that way.
But Wylis held himself back from kissing her. He wanted to be sure about Lyanna and Ashara's dynamics first. Though he couldn't stop looking at her gorgeous face, her eyes, those soft lips, and… when he looked at his daughter, he was lost.
Holy Hell! She's… my daughter?
While he knew that she was born with six points in charisma from the get-go, he had underestimated just how beautiful she was. Cute round face, perfect big eyes that were as violet as Ashara's. Her hair was brown, though, like his. And she looked rather strong and…
Wait a fucking second!
Immediately, he summoned the Tyrant's Squire screen and scrolled to Customizer, and there it was. He hadn't even allotted the ten points his daughter had received. And while he held Ashara by the waist and looked at his daughter, he did it right there and then.
[Daughter(Bastard) - Ashara Dayne
Life Points Available - 0]
[Strength - 0+3/10
Dexterity - 1+2/10
Intelligence - 1+2/10
Charisma - 6+1/10
Vitality - 2+2/10]
That looks good! She's going to be… absurdly gorgeous, isn't she?
He couldn't help his protective father instincts from kicking in. It was yet another reason to become strong.
"What did you name her?"
Ashara smiled brightly, and even her eyes were smiling. "I wanted to honor the memory of my brother, so I named her Arthria."
Wylis' jaw tightened. He felt like shit. He had killed that man, and while he had no regrets because they were aiding a rapist prince, he felt wrong not telling Ashara about it.
"She knows, Wylis."
"Hm?" His head snapped towards Lyanna. Then back at Ashara, his heart filled with guilt. "You know?"
Ashara nodded, looking up at his face. Her sleek hand traced his jaw, feeling his skin. Her eyes were on the verge of tears. "He… died doing his duty, as ill as it was. I don't hold it against you, Wylis. You did it to save her, and I know you'd have done the same for me."
How long it must have taken her to accept it.
Letting out a long breath, he kissed her forehead for a quick peck and hugged her again. He didn't feel like apologizing, though, as he had done nothing wrong. But still, she deserved something.
"I'll bring you his sword and remains when I go south."
Finally, he released her from his embrace and took his daughter in his arms. Then he grabbed his son and held them both at the same time. He carried them around, walking, making funny noises to make them both laugh. Seeing their faces, he was certain they'd cause riots in the marriage market. Especially Magnus, since he had the trueborn buff and would go all the way to fifteen points in Charisma.
"Let's go and eat."
He carried his kids out of the solar and into the decent-sized dining hall. As he sat down, he still held them, Arthria and Magnus. The smile on his face was so radiant and contagious that the two women were doing the same. Elia was silent the whole time, however.
"He's going to be big." He muttered, "Both of them."
Wait, isn't Magnus a year old already?
Remembering that, he pulled out the blue screen and sure enough, there were two unused Life Points. So, he allotted them to what he reckoned was the wisest.
[Strength - 4/15
Dexterity - 2+1/15
Intelligence - 4/15
Charisma - 8/15
Vitality - 4+1/15]
While Dexterity would allow Magnus to learn things faster, Vitality would help him survive the cold North and the hellish infant mortality rate of Westeros.
Following that, he ate and played with his kids at the same time. A big mouthful and then many moments of playing. Rhaenys sat right beside him and joined him, which he didn't mind. He had made up his mind to raise Rhaenys and Aegon as his own, no matter what Elia chose. They deserved a happy childhood with a father figure, and he was willing to be one.
The supper was delicious. The spices he had seized during his raid were being put to good use. It also felt relaxing, finally having his women in one place. At the same time, he had written to Wenda to come over as she was pregnant with his second child. He had also written to Anna from Stoney Sept to come over with the other ten women he had impregnated during his time there. He planned on settling some of them in Ramsgate town, and hopefully, they wouldn't mind giving him a few more kids in the future.
Finally, once the supper was done, they all retreated to their bedchambers. Elia led the unwilling Rhaenys away. He showed Ashara to her bedchamber as well. Finally, he took Lyanna to his personal, main bedchamber, the largest and most decorated one.
But still, he left her alone for a moment and went to have a word with Qyburn.
"Thank you for watching over them, Qyburn." He stepped close and pulled the old man into a firm embrace. "I’ll not forget what you’ve done."
A little flustered by that much closeness, Qyburn smiled like an embarrassed younger brother. "I was fulfilling the duty you had given me, my Lord. All in the hopes of learning from you, of course. I'm still a greedy man."
Wylis gave a short laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Aye, hunger for knowledge is no sin. I’m setting up a small clinic within the castle walls. There I’ll show you all I know, the hidden workings of the body, all that I can pass on.”
"I can't wait, my Lord."
"Let us begin from tomorrow. Rest all you can tonight."
Bidding Qyburn a good night, he went to the castle gates to check the guards to ensure they weren't lazing around. While he trusted Chett and a few others, not all of them were as duty-driven.
At last, after finishing his rounds, he returned to his bedchamber with the biggest grin on his face. It had been many months since the last time he spent time with someone. While he considered himself a well-oriented, focused man, he couldn't stop his little friend down there from rising up.
There were expectations.
Creak!
He pushed the door open and… his expectations were answered.
Fucking beautiful… just as the first time I saw her.
He gulped and scrambled to slam the door shut and lock it. He jumbled to throw away his tunic and his breeches, getting butt-naked, cock hard as stone. Then he leapt forward like a hungry beast.
"Heh… I knew you'd like it!" Lyanna gigged from the great bed, nude entirely, reclined back against a hill of pillows, her legs spread and her hands fondling her breasts. She bit her red lips, her grey eyes narrow in need.
Now, common sense dictated that a man as hungry as Wylis in that moment would jump and ram his cock in her. But no, he was no common man. His desire for Lyanna was more emotional than physical, and getting to cherish her body was… everything. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
"Aaaaah! Gods… warn me, at least! Do you even know how long I’ve been aching… parched for this? Ummmmh!"
The only response Wylis gave was his head shoved between her smooth, pale legs, his mouth latched on her cunt, eating her like it was his life's sole mission. She was his lady, his first love, and she tasted… fucking sweet!
She was insane for him. A year without his cock had stripped her clean of reason, and now everything about him drove her wild. The taste of his spit, the scrape of his stubble against her thighs, the raw weight of his body pinning her to the bed. Even his scent made her lightheaded, musk and sweat and man, all of it filling her lungs until she nearly wept.
He was her Wylis, her beast, her first, her only, and she wanted him everywhere.
“Ahhh—oohhh… Wylis…” She moaned, her slender throat stretched taut as her head tilted back, eyes fluttering up to the ceiling. Nipples stiff as she raked her trembling fingers through his thick hair, pulling and clenching like she’d die if he stopped.
Wylis loved it. He loved her sweet cries, loved the frantic twitch of her thighs as she tried to clamp them around his head. But he wouldn’t allow it. His monstrous hands spread her wide, rough claws pressing so hard into her supple flesh that angry red prints bloomed. The strength of his grip was brutal, and the struggle of her slender body writhing against his restraint only made his cock throb harder.
He feasted on her cunt, worshiping, punishing, drowning himself in her taste. His tongue slid through her slick folds, curling to scoop the nectar from her slit before plunging in again. He traced her hole, spearing it shallowly, then dragged upward in a hot, wet stroke until he found her clit and lathered mercilessly. Every motion was frenzied, like a drunkard chugging wine he couldn’t get enough of.
Lyanna was half-delirious, clawing at the sheets, her lips parted in helpless, shameless cries. “Oooooooh… f-fuck, I… really… missed this!”
Her words broke in gasps as her hips jumped, grinding her pussy against his mouth. She wanted to cage his head between her thighs, wanted to ride him raw, but he wouldn’t give her that power. His grip was iron, forcing her open, her fragile body held like prey beneath a predator. That strength… Gods help her, she fucking missed it. The way he could break her, yet made her feel untouchably safe. It was intoxicating.
Shlk! Slhk! Scallop!
Slurps, squelches, the wet noises of his mouth burying itself in her cunt filled the room, louder than the crackle of the fire. Her own moans joined them, strangled, breathless sounds, spilling from her throat with no care for pride.
“Mmmmh… I… in me—eeeh!” she roared suddenly, fisting both hands into his hair and yanking, desperate to drag him up so he’d mount her already. Her eyes were wild, her voice hoarse.
But Wylis didn’t listen. He growled into her rosy pussy, shaking his head against her cunt as if to punish her, lapping harder, faster, drowning her in filth. His tongue bullied her clit, teeth grazing just enough to sting, lips sucking until she shrieked. He hated her pleading, and yet loved it. So he broke her resolve with sheer devotion, eating her until she was nothing but a sobbing, writhing mess.
“W-Wylis! I can’t—Aaaah—!!”
She broke.
Her entire body bucked off the bed, hips jerking violently as she erupted, squirting in hot, shameless gushes across his face. The sheets beneath her were ruined, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as the torrent spilled.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He pulled back fast and mounted her, his lips shining with her release, as he loomed over her like a large canopy, his shadow swallowing her body whole.
Her wide eyes were locked on him even as her cunt sprayed, her juices splattering onto his abs, running down his ridges, greasing his cock until it glistened like it had been bathed in oil.
Her hips convulsed, her cries climbing higher, but she never looked away. She watched the beast above her. His chest carved like stone, his arms thick as her thighs, his cock a pulsing, dripping weapon between them. Just remembering that this absurdly gorgeous brute was hers, that she had fallen in love with this mountain of flesh and heat, pushed her orgasm into an even wilder frenzy.
Her trembling hand slid down almost without a thought, reaching for the thick cock she worshiped, clutching it tight. It dwarfed her hand instantly, hot and slick, veins bulging against her grip. She would have never dared to take something so monstrous inside her if it weren’t for love. Mad, fiery love that made her fearless.
“Lyanna…” Wylis growled, watching her with feral hunger as she guided his cock down.
She rubbed the fat head along her dripping slit, smearing her juices over it, shuddering as the bulbous crown started to press against her entrance. Her eyes went wide, scared, and eager at once, as her tight slit started to stretch.
“F-Fuck… feels like the first time again!” she cried, a sob of both sting and delight. Her lower lips spread around his knob, her body trembling as she gasped, “Dammit… you better… fuck… good! I want… my… year’s worth of cock… all tonight—mmmmmmh!”
Wylis just stared down at her face, her lovely, scrunched, moaning face, and his chest thundered like some boy just tasting love for the first time.
Lyanna wasn’t just beautiful, she wasn’t just wet and hot and needy under him… she was the kind of woman he could make love to for the rest of his life and never grow bored. Her laughter, her scent, the way her body looked against his giant frame. And inside her, that tight, clutching grip… Gods, she made him so weak.
"As you wish, Lady Kaiser."
“Ooooooh!” she cried, arching her back hard at the sound of her title. Her body trembled like the words alone had shoved his cock deeper.
She guided him lower, inch by inch, and he felt it. The way her tight sheath swallowed him, the way her body shifted, her very organs rearranging to make room. It was like reclaiming his throne inside her, a rightful place that belonged only to him.
“Uuuugh… Gods!” she groaned, nails raking across his broad chest.
She always clawed him like that when he entered, and he loved it, the sting reminding him she wasn’t fragile even if she looked it.
Her grey eyes dropped down to her belly, watching as the thick crown of his cock disappeared inside her, as her soft belly bulged faintly where he pressed deep. Each stretch made her moan louder, each inch claimed made her wetter. She’d taken him plenty of times, yet every single time still felt brand new. It still felt so fucking good; her heart raced like she was losing her virginity all over again.
Halfway in, Wylis stopped, savoring her tightness.
“Wylis…” she whined, slapping his chest with a little smack that made her tits jiggle. Her hands slid down his flanks, nails grazing his side hips, clawing at him desperately. “Go in. All of it. Don’t you dare stop!”
With a heavy groan, he pulled back just an inch and then drove forward.
“Ahhh! Yesss—!” Lyanna screamed, her back bowing high off the bed as she spasmed in a sharp climax. Her cunt clamped around him violently, gushing slickness as she wailed, eyes rolling back in raw pleasure.
He hadn’t even fucked her yet, and already she was breaking.
“I love you! Gods, I love you—I dreamed of you, every night—I missed you, Wylis, missed you so much,” she babbled deliriously, cracking under the weight of her moans.
Her hands roamed everywhere. His shoulders, his chest, his face, like she had to feel every inch of him at once.
Meanwhile, Wylis was on cloud nine, claiming his lover like their very first night. Her snug, soaking tightness strangled his cock, refusing to let him in deeper even as she begged for it. He ground forward, then slid back, back and forth, working his massive shaft into her furnace inch by thick inch.
“Ghhh…” The resistance made him groan; the way her cunt fought him only fed his hunger. And then, finally, he pushed through, bottoming out inside her with a guttural snarl.
Her whole body convulsed around him. Tight, trembling, milking him already.
Creek! Creek!
The bed groaned, the wooden frame squealing under every move as he truly began the ritual called fucking.
“Guhhh…” he grunted, bracing himself, then fucking her with the entire unholy length of his cock. He knew he was too big for most, had always known, but he would never hurt someone with that absurd tool.
Lyanna wasn’t just taking him, though… she reveled in it. She gloried in the fact that her body could accept every brutal inch of him despite her short stature, despite the way his cock made her belly bulge. And gods, he loved her all the more for it.
Plap! Squelch! Plap!
Her dainty legs spread wide as he leaned his weight down onto her, covering her completely. His lips found hers for a brutal kiss. Their tongues tangled, spit smeared between them, teeth clashing as if even their mouths were desperate to consume one another.
He felt the pressure coil in his gut too soon, the need to spill into her unbearable already. He wanted to cum inside her, to flood her womb like a seal, a silent declaration that she was his, that she always would be. Like a magnificent kiss delivered straight from his cock to her womb.
"Fuck… Lyanna…" He moaned into her lips.
“Wylis!” she moaned back with love and madness.
They were drunk without wine, drunk on passion, lust, and the joy of reunion. Every thrust felt like a celebration. Not just of this moment, but of everything they’d conquered. From nothing to so much. From a stableboy to a lord. From a runaway girl to a mother, to a lady of the strongest man in Westeros.
“Mmmmh… I-I’m coming, Wylis! F-Fuck, you make me… weak!” Lyanna wailed, her body arching against him like a bowstring drawn too tight.
Wylis answered by fucking her harder, not wild, not brutal, but with steady, relentless force. Enough that her petite yet curvy, maternal frame jolted on the bedding, swells bouncing, hair sticking to her sweaty temples. The whole bed groaned like it would splinter beneath them, every thrust rattling the headboard against stone.
Plap! Pap! Plap!
Her cunt convulsed around his cock, eyes flying wide as if she’d been struck by lightning.
“Aaaaahhh—!” Lyanna screamed, squirting messily, soaking him, soaking the sheets, her thighs trembling as she climaxed with no control left. It was hot, frantic; her pussy wrung his manhood in spasms, sucking him so greedily he nearly lost it right then.
Wylis was teetering on the edge, right at that blind brink where he might go too hard, might lose himself in her.
He quickly seized her hips, rolled, and brought her on top of him, lying back so she straddled his cock. Her soaked cunt still clung to him like an angry fist, her juices dripping down his length and staining his thighs.
Sure, he’d been rougher before, far rougher, pushing them both to madness. But that had been during long, endless nights when she’d been used to the stretch, to his monstrous size. Now… now she needed time to adjust again, and he wouldn’t break her, not tonight.
"I'm close," he told her.
As if it were a challenge, Lyanna’s hips rose up and slammed back down on him, bouncing her succulent body on his massive cock. Her bosom bounced wildly, and his wide palms closed over them, engulfing them, kneading, pinching, claiming every inch of her swollen breasts. She pressed her own hands over his, trapping them there as she rode him, her gaze locked to his in manic devotion.
They were both slick with sweat despite the northern chill, droplets rolling down his chest, glistening in the firelight. But neither cared.
They were together again, and nothing else in the world mattered.
“I love you, Lord Wylis Kaiser,” Lyanna proclaimed with a breathless grin, before leaning down to kiss him.
The kiss was fire, spit, tongues, teeth, and moans.
And as her lips claimed his, Wylis snapped. He dug his heels into the bedding, wrapped his arms around her back, and fucked up into her with piston force. His cock slammed her deep, claps echoing in the chamber as his hips hammered up, driving her down, over and over, like an endless storm.
And he finally burst.
“Uuuhhh… and I… fucking… love… you, Lady… Lyanna Kaiser,” he roared against her mouth.
She giggled through her moans, then gasped and squealed as she felt it.
Hot torrents bursting into her womb, his cock stretching her so deep it felt like he might spear through her very core. His release was violent, battering, like a ram breaching gates, flooding her until she feared her body would burst. She moaned endlessly, her pussy clenching him tight, holding him inside, savoring every drop.
“Uuuummmhhh!” she mewled, riding wave after wave, her body clinging tight as his cock pumped its white, hot load inside her.
And Wylis, his climax almost felt otherworldly. Nothing else could compare. Spilling inside courtesans, whores, any other warm body… it had never been the same. Not once. Only with her, his wife, his first love, the only girl who’d been with him when he was nothing, did it feel like this. Like heaven, like a war won, like the Gods themselves smiled down. She was his from the start, and now, she would be his until the very end.
He crushed her to his chest in a bruising embrace, hugging her so tight her cunt ground against his pubes, wringing more sparks from her raw hole.
He was buried balls-deep, spilling fountain after fountain into her womb, his cock throbbing with each gush, painting her insides until she was flooded full.
Their high slowed, each spasm easing, every twitch of his cock softer than the last. But the emotions, those didn’t fade. They lingered, heavy and sweet.
He felt her body trembling in his arms, her soft tits flattened against his chest, her breath hot and ragged on his neck. Every pulse of her pussy clenching him, every last drop squeezed out of him, felt like love itself. Messy, delirious, and unshakably theirs.
As Wylis’s peak finally came down, his heavy balls softening.
Lyanna clung tighter, peppering his neck with frantic kisses. Then the kisses turned to nips, then to sharp love-bites. She marked him, again and again, her lips sucking bruises into his skin like she was claiming him all over.
He rumbled low, but made no move to stop her. He let her, savoring the sting, the heat, the proof that she was his and he was hers.
It amused him, though. He was tired, truly tired. Strange, since he’d fucked far longer before, fucked harder, fucked to the brink of madness. But now… something was different. This time, he felt satisfied. Completely, utterly satisfied. Enough that sleep tugged at his massive body even as his cock still sat inside her, softening slowly, still locked in her stretched, tender cunt.
Lyanna, hungry as she was, soon gave in as well. Her lips slowed on his neck, her breath evened. The long journey, the storm of pleasure, it caught up with her. She slumped against his chest, her body melting into his bulk, her pussy still clinging around his length as if refusing to let him go, even in sleep.
Neither knew when exactly their eyes closed, when their hearts slowed into a steady rhythm, when their bodies surrendered to the blissful dark.
Wylis, at least, knew beautiful dreams awaited him.
####
The morning sunlight filtered through the slit-like ventilators in the walls. It wasn't enough, but the light did illuminate the room.
Wylis personally didn't like it, not having large windows attached to his bedchamber. But since this room was on the ground floor, it was unsafe. That was why he planned on shifting his bedchamber to the upper floor and carving large windows into the wall.
But for now, he was perfectly fine waking up to the heavy dose of sunshine sleeping right beside him, hugging him like he'd vanish, her head on his shoulder, lips wide in a blissful, dreamy smile.
We should do this every night.
He felt refreshed. So much more refreshed than he had ever been in months.
He turned his head to look at the cradle where Magnus was sleeping. While he knew such a young babe wouldn't remember all the ear-shattering moans of his mother, he did feel worried that the life point he was adding in dexterity and intelligence might change something. The last thing he wanted was his son to tease him with 'Dad, remember that night when you were beating Mom?'.
Chuckling, he looked at her stunning, pale face. Yeah, I was beating her alright, right up to her womb.
"Ummh…" Lyanna woke up, and her hand shifted, caressing down from his abs to his already thickened, half-erect shaft. "Someone's… having an exciting morning."
Wylis chuckled, seeing her eyes open while her head tilted up for their morning kiss. He leaned in to give her one, a deep, passionate kiss that only made him fully hard.
"Uh… Wylis… your breath stinks."
"So does yours, Lyanna. Don't see me complaining."
"Pfft…"
Lyanna giggled, as that was exactly what she loved about him. To hell with her status and name, he treated her right, like best friends in love. And to show her appreciation, she climbed on top of him, rubbing her slick folds on his cock.
She leaned down and pecked his lips again before resting her elbows on his chest, her fingers caressing his face where traces of beard had started to appear.
"I'm glad," he said, his hands lavishly kneading her soft ass under the quilt. "I'm glad I took the risks. Now here, I get to enjoy all this… I'm glad I chose to leave that damn stable behind."
Lyanna laughed softly, peppering his lips with quick kisses. “I was a foolish girl, wasn’t I? Letting myself be swayed by the charming stablehand. Mmm… I'm glad I chased after you, my strong, beautiful giant, was worth every risk… even if I got captured by an insane prince—it was all worth it, Wylis. To be with you."
For a long moment, they looked at each other's faces, as if adjusting to the reality that they were finally together and there was nobody around to separate them. Sure, the threat loomed, but for now, there was peace.
"Ummh… You have no idea how much I missed you." Lyanna obsessively kissed his earlobe, giving it a bite. "I used to… touch myself thinking of you."
"Really?"
"Um-hum…" Her kisses dotted lower, on his neck. "Missed this."
She reached his chest. Her tongue rolled over his nipples, earning a few giggles from him. "And this."
She kept sliding down, more and more, vanishing under the quilt, laying trails of kisses and licks over his defined abs. "Oh… this too… mmh"
"And… this~" Finally, she kissed his pubes, and then had his fat cock in her grip, unable to hold it. Instead of taking him in her mouth right away, she smushed her face on the underside of his length, her entire face vanishing between his legs, her mouth lapping his balls, the taste of the last night still there.
Wylis groaned, feeling her licks on his balls and even underneath his balls. She lapped everywhere around his groin. His entire cock rubbed all over her face, smudging her with wetness.
"I… craved… your scent."
"..."
"Ugh… shouldn't have said that." Lyanna groaned from under the quilt, laughter curling around her words. "Now I sound like some shameless little pervert."
Wylis chuckled, finally feeling her mouth wrap around his bulbous head. "Aye, the pervert who stole the giant's heart—Ah, not teeth!"
Giggling, Lyanna stuffed her mouth with her lover, slobbering spit all over him like he were some delicacy. Nothing was visible, just a bump in the quilt, rising and falling.
Calm, Wylis stayed flat, staring at the ceiling, enjoying that warm, soft attention to his cock. Her soft hand fondled his balls at the same time, her other hand scratched nails on his lower abs. The combined stimulation had him on edge already.
"Close."
"Ummmh~" She took his warning and sucked only the tip while stroking him like churning butter.
Arousal of body and mind together, Wylis tipped over the edge and spilled. Not as gushing as the night before, but still substantial enough that his beautiful wife had to gulp it down and make room for more.
"Mmmmh…"
She kept sucking him dry, eating his cock out, drenching him with her spit, the air under the quilt heavy with his musky scent that she honestly didn't mind. It only made her wet, and now, she wanted him up again, ready to slide into her.
Bam! Bam!
"Wylis! Open the door!"
"Hm?" With a frown, Wylis raised his head and looked at the door. "Who the—"
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Whatever Brennard had done to that door, it was clearly not enough for someone as strong as the man on the other side. With a few continuous slams, the locks gave way and the door… swung open.
Thud!
The man fell inside.
"Ha! Caught you. You thought you could fool the Wild Wolf? Where’s my sister tucked away? Don’t blush, I know the two of you have been rutting like foxes. I’ll not scold you, I just want to see her."
"..."
"Get the fuck out, Brandon!" Wylis boomed, unable to do anything with his cock half-drowned in Lyanna's mouth. Thankfully, she had stopped, or more like frozen in that state.
"Not until I see her." Brandon crossed his arms, chin high.
Wylis facepalmed himself and finally gestured to the bump under the quilt between his legs. Brandon caught his intent right away and looked.
"In there? Why, what is she doing in the—Oh…"
"..."
Brandon dumbly stared at Wylis' face.
Wylis glared back at the bastard, fuming.
"Get out!"
"Aye, I shall, my Lord."
NSFW ART now up on and SUBSTAR