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The Humiliation of Lyanna Mormont	By : Meowshi Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 13397 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire, nor any of the characters from these series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The Night's King placed his hand upon the girl's breastplate and his fingers sank into the metal as though it were made of butter. With a sharp wrench of his arm, he ripped the armor off of her and tossed it casually over his shoulder. Lyanna struggled fiercely against this violation but his grip was as strong as iron. Stronger even. He coiled his hands around her ringmail hauberk and then tore it in two, sending ringlets of iron flying into the air like glinting snowdrops.
“P-please,” Lyanna begged pitifully, “There’s no point to this.”
But she was wrong.
The Night's King loathed all men, but not equally. The disdain he reserved for the Northern lords burned with a fiercer intensity than any other. The grey-eyed Starks. The Umber giants. The Red Kings of the Dreadfort and the Ancient Riverlords of the Mander. He despised them all. It wasn't enough to see the life drain out of their eyes, nor was he satisfied when he brought them back as shambling, rotting mockeries of themselves. He sought to break them first. He had to remind them of how truly low they were. Even the babes.
He began to claw at Lyanna's armor and clothing with renewed vigor, leaving welts and lacerations across her body as he tore away her protection. The girl tried to fight back as best she could, but she only had one functioning hand and no weapons. When she beat her tiny fist against the Night King's pale chest, it felt like she was punching a solid block of ice. Although her hand stung terribly afterward, he didn't even flinch.
It took less than a minute to fully disrobe the child, leaving her exposed to the cold, moonlit air. Her screams of pain were soon replaced with yelps of humiliation as her naked body was exposed to the entire army of Winterfell. Hot tears of rage and fear welled up in Lyanna's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned her head to the side and tried to block out what was happening to her, imagining that it was happening to someone else.
Most of the soldiers averted their gaze, but many of them were far too captivated to turn away. Before this moment, no one had even known that the Night's King was capable of carnality. Cobb Bright-Eyes, now wearing a bandage over his destroyed eye, was utterly enthralled by the sight of his sovereign lady being publicly stripped and humiliated. In spite of the wintry air, her flat, featureless chest heated up and flushed in response to the thousands of onlookers staring at her from the battlements. Her nipples were two small pink points, standing out boldly from her bosom as they hardened in the cold; a stark contrast against her pale skin. The girl shivered terribly as her body temperature plummeted, but she was determined to maintain what little dignity she could, quickly snapping her legs closed so as to hide the sparse, downy hair that had just begun growing at the apex of her thighs.
“Look upon me, child,” The Night's King ordered, not in one voice, but many.
The girl kept her gaze turned, squeezing her lids closed in an effort to stop her tears from falling. She was determined not to let him see her cry.
“Still you do not comprehend thine rightful place,” the Night's King hissed angrily, “Stubborn. You must be made to see.”
Without warning, the corpse-king placed the sharp nail of his pinky finger at the very top of her vulva. She jumped at the intimate touch but still did not face him, cleverly concealing her reaction. He then slowly ran the claw of his little finger up the curve of her pubic mound until he reached the area between her two pebbling nipples. breasts. He lightly traced the fingernail of his pinky up up pubic mound all the way to the area between her nonexistent breasts. For a few seconds, nothing happened—then, a bright red trail of blood bubbled up from the path he had traced. The laceration was shallow but painful, and Lyanna's eyes shot open in response.
“Good!”
The Night King's cock began to rise steadily from its flaccid state, though this seemed to be the result of some sort of sidhe magic rather than out of genuine sexual excitement. As inexperienced as she was, Lyanna had no idea whether the bobbing penis before her was considered large or small, but she knew she wanted it nowhere near her. Despite this apprehension, the Night's King wrenched open her legs and pressed himself against her entrance. His eyes never left hers, as he had no interest in her immature body — he wanted only to see the pain and anguish flood into her eyes at the moment of penetration.
Wordlessly, the Night's King thrust into her, piercing through her maidenhead with a spurt of blood. Lyanna’s neck snapped back and she gargled wetly, the horror and revulsion of what was happening to her causing the bile to rise up in her throat. The corpse-king’s cock snaked through her inner walls, filling her with a chill that did little to numb the pain of him tearing through her young body. Despite the blood engorging his member, there was very little human warmth emanating from his body. His cock also wasn’t soft and fleshy like she would have expected, but as sharp and hard as a stone. She choked on her own bile as she was fucked, spewing a green fountain of brackish vomit as her body released the contents of her stomach all over her chest and face. She coughed and gagged as soon as her airway was clear, flinching against the horrible burning in her throat. Lyanna gasped desperately for air, her breath misting in front of her face as her small body was pushed even deeper into the snow. The Night's King, despite seeming more alive than the wights surrounding them, still smelled putridly of death, and the scent filled her lungs as the Night’s King leaned over to press his cold chest against hers. He grabbed her hips and bucked into her bloody thighs, forcing out a wet “PLAP”ing sound that echoed throughout the Keep. Even the children and wives sheltered down in the crypts could hear Lyanna’s wailing cries and the wet, meaty slaps of her rape.
“Uugh! Ahaah..! Auugh..! Gods! Ngff!” Lyanna grunted in an unseemly manner alongside each painful thrust but still managed to keep her tears at bay. She could feel her insides tear as he pushed himself deeper inside of her. There was no harmony to this sex, she bounced against him painfully and awkwardly. The Night King was forced to tighten his grip around her hips in a primal display of dominance and desire, just to get her to match his rhythm. He wouldn't allow her to close her eyes so she simply stared at him with wide eyes, praying that he would be finished soon.
The Night’s King didn’t moan, shudder, or even blink as he thrust into the helpless girl. The only indication that he was getting any pleasure from the experience was the slight curl of his pale blue lips. Although his face remained stoic and impassive, the corpse-king’s mind was reeling. The girl’s tight hole was gripping him like a vice and the warm slickness of her maiden's blood sent sparks of ecstasy shooting up his body. He was feeling a sort of human pleasure that he hadn’t experienced in centuries, and he began to increase the pace of his thrusts so that he could experience even more of it. After nearly three minutes of assaulting the poor girl’s body, he felt his pleasure building to a crescendo. “Now you see!” he roared as his neck snapped back and he gave himself to his pleasure. He had forgotten how good it felt to release inside of a living girl. He didn’t yell or shudder as his orgasm raked through his body, but his mouth did part slightly and he released a long, low hiss like the sound of air escaping a punctured lung.
The Night King’s heavy balls lurched in his sack as they released pump after pump of semen into the young girl. The viscous liquid was viciously cold and she screamed as he came. It felt like shards of ice were shooting up through her body. After a few blissful seconds, the Night’s King pulled himself out of her, agonizingly slow, causing a flood of silvery semen, shot through with specks of pink blood, to pour from her abused cavity. Lyanna whimpered as he removed himself from her, feeling that something was wrong. The inner walls of her vagina seemed to cling to his penis head as he pulled out of her and didn’t retreat back into her as he stood up. Her prolapsed vagina continued to spit out gobs of his stringy cum for several seconds before finally settling down into the snow.
Lyanna was in too much pain to bother closing her legs at this point. In the men and women on the ramparts wanted to look down at her shame, then so be it. They had allowed her to be savaged and raped by the dead king. It was only fair that they bore witness to the gruesome results. Now that her ordeal was over, her remaining hand gingerly reached for her privates. She could instantly feel that something was wrong with her vagina and that it seemed to be hanging limply outside of her body in a way that it hadn't been before. She didn’t know much about how babies were formed, but she doubted she would ever be able to get pregnant now. Her eyes blinked at the realization that she would likely not be able to produce a viable heir, and suddenly the tears she had been holding in exploded out of her. She broke out into weak, pitiful sobs as she realized that House Mormont was now truly doomed regardless of whether she lived or died. She had not only allowed her virtue to be stolen by the Night’s King but also the very future of her ancient house.
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The Humiliation of Lyanna Mormont