Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Jamie cursed with every blow of his sword, his rage radiating off him in waves. He was a mess. His twin had betrayed him, sleeping with another man, possibly men. He swung his sword again and imagined it was Cersei’s new lover. The sword cut deep into the leather causing the straw to spill out of the training dummy and flutter softly to the ground.
“Damn her. The lying, cheating bitch. I gave her everything. My heart, my silence, my life. I gave up Casterly Rock to join the Kingsguard, at her insistence so I would never have to marry. She swore she would only love me. Choosing to deal with her husband in other ways. The children. My children. She made me stay away from them. I wasn’t allowed to be their father. I never even got to hold them at her insistence. The whore… They were twins. Two halves of the same person but only she had been allowed to have a full life. While he was forced to live a half-life, in the shadows. Forced to watch as another man played father to his children. Children he had never once held,” He thought bitterly to himself as he swung again at the training dummy, this time hard enough to cut off one of the limbs. His sword would likely be ruined but at this point, he didn’t care. He just wanted to drink and drink and drink.
Feeling tired and stiff, his muscles aching, Jaime strode through the courtyard, heading back inside the castle. He had spent the last two hours hacking away at a training dummy, venting his frustrations. He was exhausted, and angry. Bitter resentment towards his sister burning through him.
Entering the keep, he strode through the halls, heading towards the kitchens to find someone who could get him a bottle of wine and a glass. As he strode into the kitchen, he saw his Aunt Genna scowling and speaking to one of the servants in a harsh tone. He hesitated, not wanting to upset her further. She must have sensed him because she turned and smiled, quickly dismissing the servant.
“Jaime dear. There you are. I wondered where you had run off to. Oh dear, you look all out of sorts. Are you alright?” She asked, fussing over him.
“I’m fine. Really. No need to worry.” He assured her though he was anything but fine.
“You must be starving. You missed lunch dear. Dinner won’t be ready for a few hours but I’m sure we could find you something to hold you over until then,” His aunt said, straightening up.
“I’d rather just have some wine and take a short rest. I’m not that hungry,” He said, trying to forestall her but his stomach chose that exact moment to protest.
“You wait in the dining hall. I’ll find you something, and don’t even think about running off again,” She said before turning and shouting at the closest servant.
Twenty minutes later Jamie sat with his aunt in the dining hall. Jaime had all but devoured his lunch, only a crust of hard bread remaining as he and his aunt spoke about recent events.”
“And you’re sure we’ll have no trouble from the remaining River lords?” His aunt asked him.
“Not to worry. Most of the Lannister forces will be traveling south to King’s Landing in the morning, aside from a small garrison of one thousand soldiers that will remain stationed at Harrenhal. I will be taking Edmure Tully, Robb Stark, his queen and his mother along with the Northern lords who were prisoners,” Jaime said.
“Hn. I was told the River lords who refused to swear fealty to House Frey and the Crown were executed earlier this morning before we arrived and that the others have been released and allowed to return to their keeps?” She asked, looking him over as he took a sip of his wine.
“Yes, that’s right,” Jaime said as he set his glass down.
Very well then. Now perhaps you can tell me why you left so suddenly earlier. I was worried for you.” She said fixing him with a penetrating gaze.
Jaime considered his aunt for a moment and sighed. “Sorry, I suppose it was just a lot to take in. Father getting remarried, Joffrey dead and Tommen King and Cersei…Cersei getting remarried.” He said swallowing thickly.
“I can well imagine. You were so young when your mother died. The news that Tywin planned to remarry was a tremendous shock to me as well, and such a young bride as well.” She said, shaking her head.
“Young? Who is my father marrying?” Jaime asked.
Genna shook her head and laughed. “You’ll never guess in a million years, so I’ll tell you plainly. Arya Stark. Lord Eddard Stark’s youngest daughter.”
Jaime gaped; his shock evident. “The Stark girl? But she’s still a child, isn’t she? I saw her once in Winterfell two years ago. She can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen by now. What is father thinking?” he asked, looking askance at his aunt.
“Oh, I can well imagine what he is thinking. Besides it’s not uncommon for most highborn girls to be married off at the age of twelve so it’s really not that big a deal.” Genna said, shaking her head with a laugh.
Jaime shuddered, the image she painted playing in his head. “But this is my father. Surely…” Jaime shook his head at a loss for words.
“Grow up, Jaime. Your father has been alone for a long time. He deserves a little happiness.” Genna said.
Jaime stood, bidding his aunt good night and farewell and retired to the chambers set aside for him to sleep.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Sansa sat on a wooden bench at a trestle table, in the dining hall at Fellwood, picking lightly at her food, not feeling very hungry. Petyr had taken her on a tour of the castle, spending most of the morning talking to her and soothing her fears. Their escort, half a dozen knights of the vale and several men at arms led by her Aunt Lysa, had arrived around noon and they were due to set out for the coast at first light the next morning. Shortly after their arrival Petyr had excused himself to visit with Lysa, leaving Sansa all alone.
Sansa had been shocked to see how her aunt had swooned at the sight of Petyr, fawning over him and giggling like a school girl all afternoon. She was even further surprised to see how cordially they interacted despite not being wed yet. She wondered idly whether she would be allowed to attend their wedding. Petyr had introduced her as his bastard daughter Alayne Stone to their escort. The look her aunt had given her sent shivers of fear down her spine.
Wandering through the empty halls of Fellwood, Sansa paused briefly and sat down on a bench in a nearby alcove, to reflect on the events of the last few days. A voice broke her out of her reverie and startled Sansa looked up. Standing in front of her was a musician who had accompanied her Aunt Lysa from the vale.
“Hello, my lovely lady.” He said, nodding his head, his gaze fixed on her cleavage in the low-cut southern gown that had been procured for her. The musician, dressed in crimson and black silk garments, stared at her another moment, making her increasingly uncomfortable.
“Oh, um hello.” Sansa stammered, unsure how to respond and hoping he would go away but the musician smiled sweetly and sat beside her, leaning in close to her and making her even more uneasy.
“Hello, Alayne. I’m Marillion. Musician and confidant of Lady Lysa Arryn.” He purred, in her ear as he placed his hand on her arm, his hot breath on her skin. Shrinking back, Sansa tried to stand and move away but Marillion placed his hand out in front of her, blocking her path.
“Don’t be shy, lovely. I won’t hurt you. We could be good friends you and me. I know for a fact that bastards are among the most depraved of people. We could have a lot of fun together. Open your heart to me, sweet lady.” He purred softly as his free hand settled on her rear, causing her to jump.
“I happen to be a maid, and I’ll thank you to let me go at once,” Sansa said forcefully, indignation and fear marring her features.
“Oh, a maiden. How lovely,” Marillion said breathlessly, his other hand moving to her breasts. “Give me your maidenhead, my sweet. I’ll prove an excellent first for you. No other man shall please you like me,” He said as Sansa backed away, terrified.
Suddenly a rough hand seized Marillion and jerked him back. Sansa looked up and saw the bald man with the dark beard standing there with an angry expression on his face. “The lady isn’t interested. If I find you bothering her again I’ll have your balls cut off.” He growled angrily, shoving Marillion aside.
“Lady Lysa shall hear of this. You’re just a servant. You can’t treat me like this. I’m a trusted confidant and favorite of Lady Lysa, the Regent of the Vale.” Marillion said, indignantly before storming off. Sansa let out a relieved sigh as the man turned to face her.
“Lord Baelish would like to speak with you in his solar. Follow me.” He said and started off towards the Lord’s solar, glancing back briefly to make sure she was following, leading her through the twisting corridors.
“Thank you. For rescuing me, I mean.” She stammered as they walked together.
“Think nothing of it. Lord Baelish asked me to keep an eye on you, so it was merely my duty.” He said not looking at her.
Reaching the solar, he knocked and motioned her forward when Petyr called for her to enter, before excusing himself and walking away. Stepping inside the solar, Sansa looked around. The room was dimly lit, candles scattered about here and there and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Seated on a sofa near the fireplace were Petyr Baelish and her Aunt Lysa.
XxxxxxxxxxxX

Arya moaned softly as Tywin’s hands teased her nipples, tugging gently on the rapidly hardening nubs. Her eyelids fluttered as her body grew hot, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned into his touch as her hands reached down working the laces on his breeches, reaching inside her small hands closed around his cock, softly caressing the hard shaft eliciting a moan from her lord as his cock jerked in her hand.
Growling softly, Tywin pushed her back on the bed, his rough hands making quick work of her gown, tugging the silk garment away along with her small clothes as he captured her lips, his hands moving up and down along her body, admiring the still-developing curves as he moved beside her on the bed.
Arya looked up at him, her dark eyes clouded over with lust as he gently pushed her legs open, hands softly caressing her bare thighs, his fingertips teasing the smooth skin. Tywin trailed soft kisses along her jaw, moving to nibble softly on her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin, drawing a shuddered breath from her.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her skin flushed, body on fire as his lips moved down along her neck, nuzzling, kissing and nibbling softly there, his fingertips teasing the dripping lips of her sex, her hips arching off the bed, pressing against his hand, desperate to fill the aching emptiness inside her.
Trailing butterfly kisses across her skin, Tywin moved down, pressing soft kisses to both of her nipples before capturing one between his lips, sucking and chewing softly on the hard nub, eliciting a soft cry from her lips as her fingers carded through his thinning hair, holding his head in place.
Tywin gently parted her soft wet lips, easing a finger inside her dripping sheath, the digit thrusting in and out at a torturously slow pace. Frustrated and in need, Arya buck her hips against his hand, soft gasps and moans escaping her lips while Tywin teased her, quickly withdrawing his hand when she got close, making her whine.
Smirking, Tywin moved to the other nipple, repeating his ministrations as his hands fondled her rear, squeezing and smacking the firm globes, as he gently ground his knee against her sex. Moaning and breathless, Arya whimpered, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Please Tywin. I can’t take it. I need more.” She begged.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
The carriage rolled to a stop inside the courtyard and a few moments later the door opened, revealing her guards. Cersei took a hand that was offered and stepped out of the carriage, getting her first look at the drab, gray castle that was Pyke.
Disgust welled up inside her as she looked around at the inhabitants of the castle dressed in gray woolen cloth. There was little about the people or place that could be called colorful. Their dress and appearance reminded her of the peasants in Flea Bottom and she sneered.
The servants walked past her, going about their duties without so much as a bow in her direction. “Things would most certainly have to change once she settled in here. She would have this place running properly in no time.” She decided to herself.
Striding across the pavement, Cersei barged her way into the castle, her escort hurrying to keep up while carrying her trunks. Looking around the interior of the castle Cersei felt her disgust rise. There was little in the way of flair. The furnishings were spartan, made of simple wood, stone and base metals.
Spotting a servant walking by, Cersei snapped her fingers, waiting for the servant to come to attention. To her frustration, she ignored her and continued about her business. In a shrill voice, Cersei shouted, “Servant, come here.”
Pausing, the girl looked around before turning to face Cersei. “My name is Yara Greyjoy, you dumb bitch. I’m no one’s servant.” Yara snapped back, offended by Cersei’s attitude. The people of the Iron Islands had a very poor opinion of the Mainlanders, finding them weak and spoiled.
Gaping, Cersei stood tall, a glare marring her features as she gazed down at Yara. “I happen to be Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” She said. “I demand you show me at once to my chambers, so I can settle in. And have some wine sent up for me while you’re at it.”
Laughing, Yara shook her head. “Find a servant and make your own way to your chambers. And we don’t drink wine in the Iron Islands. We drink ale. If you want some you’ll have to wait until dinner is served in the great hall.” She said, sneering up her nose at Cersei.
“You can’t honestly expect me to dine with servants.” Cersei scoffed.
Scowling up at Cersei, Yara replied, “Those servants are brave Ironborn and each is worth a dozen of you filthy mainlanders.” With that Yara stormed off, leaving Cersei standing alone with her trunks, her escort having departed while she was arguing with Yara.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Running through the forest, chest heaving, covered in mud and dirt, Ramsay paused bracing himself against a tree as he looked around to see where he was. He heard dogs barking and men shuffling through the woods a short distance behind him and set off running again, breathing heavily.
“Damn! They are getting closer.” He realized. He needed to put more distance between himself and his pursuers. Running faster, his strength waning fast, a bow twanged, and a sharp pain hit him square in the back, forcing him to his knees, his vision swimming from the pain.
Slow, quiet footsteps behind him signaled the approach of his pursuers. Suddenly his head was jerked back. Staring down at him, a knife in hand, he saw the storm gray eyes of his father staring down at him.
“Goodbye, my son,” Roose Bolton said in his normal cold and calm voice, and with a quick movement, he slit his son’s throat before letting him fall to the floor, gurgling quietly as the life drained from him. Walking back to his men, he faced the group. “Let’s go, boys. The hunt is done.”
Mounting their horses, the Bolton army set out. As he rode, Lord Bolton looked to the left. Bound and gagged, tossed over the back of a mule was Theon Greyjoy. Exiting the Godswood, Roose Bolton and his host rode up over a small hill, the walls of Winterfell appearing in the distance.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Looking up, Lysa smiled. “Sansa dear. Come here. Petyr told me everything. Oh heavens, it’s such a relief to see you unharmed and well.” She said, reaching out her arms for Sansa. Feeling relieved and happy at being reunited with a relative, Sansa grinned and rushed forward into her aunt’s arms, hugging her fiercely, tears springing into her eyes.
Lysa soothed her, rubbing her back comfortingly and hugged her back. “There, there, sweetling. It’s alright. You’re safe now. I promise. Soon we’ll all be safely away from here and on our way to the Eyrie. You can stay there until it is safe for you to return home.” Lysa said, trying to comfort her.
“The Eyrie? What about my mother and Robb? They’re in the Riverlands. Can’t I go to them?” Sansa asked, wiping her eyes.
At the mention of Catelyn, anger flashed across Lysa’s face and she frowned angrily but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a sad look as Lysa hugged her tighter.
“The Riverlands have been conquered by the Lannisters. They are now under the control of House Frey, and your mother and brother are prisoners of the Kingslayer.” Lysa said, causing Sansa to relapse into a fit of sobs.
“There, there. It’s alright. Petyr is working on a plan to return you to Winterfell. You’ll be safely home before you know it. And it won’t be so bad at the Eyrie. Trust me.” Lysa said.
Sniffling softly, Sansa looked up at her. “Really? I can go home?” She asked, sounding relieved.
“Soon, sweetling. Trust me. Everything will be alright.” Lysa said, patting the spot beside her and Sansa sat. She, her aunt and Petyr spent the rest of the evening, talking about their plans and what to expect at the Vale, hoping to soothe her fears.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Moving aside, Tywin knelt at the foot of the bed, dragging Arya to the edge, he leaned in, softly kissing and nibbling the backs of her thighs, his left hand cupping her rear, the fingers of his right teasing gently across the soft lips of her slit, her juices coating his fingertips as she moaned, propped up on her elbows, her fists clenching the sheets.
“Damn it, Tywin. Don’t tease me.” She growled, reaching down, her small hands gripping his head, pushing his face against her slit. His tongue swiped across the soft pink lips, teasing them with soft licks and kisses before gently pulling them open, his tongue plunging into her dripping sheath, the velvet muscle thrusting in and out as his fingers found her budding clitoris, teasing the nub between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing little moans and whimpers from her as her hips bucked, grinding against his face.
Tywin sucked and nibbled gently on her clit, replacing his tongue with his fingers in her dripping sheath, the thick digits thrusting in and out of her, fingertips teasing her sweet spot making her hips buck, her body shaking as her orgasm crashed over her. Careful not to hurt her, Tywin teased her clit with soft licks, prolonging her pleasure as she shuddered through a second orgasm, her body falling limp against the bedsheets as he pulled away, moving up beside her on the bed.
Licking his lips, Tywin pressed his fingers to her lips for her to clean. Her breathing returning to normal, Arya took his fingers between her lips, tasting herself as her lord moved over her, her short legs on either side of his waist as his free hand reached down, gripping his hard cock, he stroked himself up and down against her soft, wet lips before guiding the tip to her dripping entrance, and with a thrust of his hips buried himself to the hilt inside his little wife.
Gasping, Arya gripped his shoulders, looking up at him as he thrust himself into her, filling her completely, leaving her feeling stuffed and then empty as he pulled out before thrusting roughly back inside her. She moaned, looking into his eyes as her nails raked against his hips, she pulled him tight against her, loving the feeling of having him inside her.
“Gods yes. Harder Tywin. Fuck me harder.” She panted, her nails drawing blood on his hips as he thrust into her fast and hard, her small hands moving to her chest when he winced, teasing her nipples, pinching, twisting, tugging on the hard nubs. She moaned louder before pushing against his shoulders.
Obligingly, he turned, laying on his back and she straddled his hips, lowering herself onto his hard cock, a sigh of content escaping his lips as she took him inside her again, her hips rocking, she rode him, bouncing up and down on him as his left hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing against her lips, his right teasing her clit, drawing pleasured moans and soft whimpers from her. Darting her tongue out against his thumb, she nipped lightly at the digit, her left hand bracing herself against his shoulders, while her right tugged hard at her nipples, the sensations heightening her pleasure as her orgasm built.
Tywin’s breathing grew heavy. He was close and could tell she was too. Thrusting his hips upward in time with her downward strokes, they both moaned, he leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss, holding her against his chest, looking into her eyes as their orgasms hit, they both climaxed together. Sweating and breathless they collapsed against the bed, lying in each other’s arms.
TBC
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl