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The North Forgot	By : ArizonaIceT Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 83465 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Sansa was annoyed.

Arya

She had alot of nerve bothering the prince, that wild child. Her behavior during Joffrey and Robb’s duel was totally inappropriate and unladylike, as she always was. Sansa knew Arya would act up during the King’s visit. She wondered where their mother was; she was usually always on top of disciplining Arya when she acted up. Even more, Sansa was annoyed that the prince seemed to be humoring her little sister’s foolishness.

‘He must find her behavior amusing, like one would find a street performer,’ Sansa thought meanly. Sansa was trying: Doing her makeup, brushing her hair until her arm got sore, and wearing the finest dresses she had all to catch the prince’s attention and time, but he seemed more interested in Arya’s silly antics.

Maybe she needed another lesson.

Ser Jaime’s offer. The lessons to be a Queen.

Sansa hadn’t seen much of Ser Jaime since that night in the courtyard. Their kiss hadn’t been like anything Sansa ever felt before. She could hardly believe that things were so different in the South. Maybe she WAS too much of a Northerner to attract the prince. Well that just wouldn’t do. She needed to find Ser Jaime immediately. They were to leave for Kingslanding within the next 2 days, and she needed all the practice in Southern customs that she could get.

She asked some Lannister men if they’ve seen Ser Jaime anywhere. And pointed her in the direction of the derelict, old parts of the Winterfell, The First Keep. She wondered why Ser Jaime would be there - perhaps to explore the castle. Sansa always hated going there. Her father always told them to stay out of there, that it was haunted. She didn’t believe those ghost stories anymore, but the prospect of having to go there still didn’t exactly entice her. Still, she didn’t have the time to be picky, so she made her way.

She wandered the keep, wondering where the knight could be. Suddenly, she sees him, off in the distance with his back turned toward her. She calls out to him, but he can’t hear her. He begins to walk away, headed in the direction of the old Broken Tower. That tower was something her father ESPECIALLY told her and her sibling to stay away from, and with good reason. Sansa thought it looked as if it could come down at any moment. Why would Ser Jaime have any interest there?

She saw Ser Jaime enter the tower, and she followed quickly behind him. Blast her dress. Made climbing the many stairs to the top an ordeal, plus it wasn’t as if Sansa was the most physically active. She struggled to make it up the stair of the tower, having to stop several times along the way. When she finally got to the top, she heard light slapping noises through the entrance of the sentry tower.

‘What in the Gods could that be’ She thought as she peeked her head around the corner to take a look.

What she was met with, was the sight of Ser Jaime’s pale, muscular ass, fucking into a cunt.

Sansa nearly eeped as she jumped back, covering her mouth as not to be heard. She peakes back around the corner, just to make sure her eyes weren’t mistaken. Ser Jaime was currently railing into some whore in this abandoned watch tower. His hands were gripped firmly on her hips, as he fucked into her. Sansa could hear the woman’s breathy gasps as at each thrust.

‘My word. They’re really going at it’, Sansa thought as she watched their coupling. It wasn’t particularly ladylike to spy, and it DEFINITELY wasn’t lady like to spy on people having sex, but Sansa couldn’t tear her eyes away. She felt a wetness between her legs, a wetness that Septa Mordane explained was completely natural to girls her age. She squeezed her thighs together as she continued to watch them fuck.

Ser Jaime laid a hard smack to the woman’s as, causing her to gasp loudly.

“Again” The woman ordered, which Ser Jaime happily obliged.

Wait. That voice.

It sounded like- no, couldn’t be.

Oh but it was.

Jaime threaded one hand through the woman's blonde hair, pulling her upright, and revealing her face clearly to Sansa.

It was the Queen, Cersei.

Sansa’s eyes grew to the size of a full moon at the display. Brother and sister fucking. The ultimate taboo. The practice was not unheard of in Westeros. The Targareyns were famously inbred for generations, but as history showed, that did not turn out for them in the long run.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should she leave and tell someone? What good would that do? They’d just deny it. Plus, was it her secret to tell. They weren’t hurting anyone really, she thought.

Maybe it’d just be best if she just snuck away. They didn’t notice her after all. She could just back away and-

“Stop. Stop!” Cersei suddenly yells. Sansa freezes. She thought she had been seen, but Jaime moved toward the window instead of the stairwell. He reaches out and grabs something. Not something, someone.

Bran.

Bran always likes to climb things. He was so nimble.

“Are you completely mad?” Ser Jaime asked, holding the young boy by his shirt.

Bran looked scared, and confused. Sansa wasn’t even sure he understood what was going on.

“He saw us” The Queen said in a panic. “He SAW us!”

“I heard you the first time.” Jaime answered. He got quiet for a while, looked around, then looked back at Bran.

“You’re quite the little climber aren’t you?” He finally said. “How old are you?”

“Eight” Bran answered. Jaime just stares at him, then looks back at Cersei, still kneeling on the stone floo. Sansa watched, unsure of what was going to happen. Eventually, Jaime let go of Bran’s shirt, and Sansa felt herself relax for a second. Just a second, because moments later, Jaime pushed Bran against his chest. Bran falls backwards, out of the window. Sansa covers her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Ser Jaime, the most handsome night in all of Westeros just pushed her little brother out of a window. Sansa began to back her way down the stairs, moving as quickly and quietly as she could. She had to get to Bran. Maybe he was alive. Maybe she could get help in time.

Just maybe-

As Sansa bounded down the last step and out of the tower, she saw a very large man standing over Bran. He was looking at Bran’s broken form, and then, looked up at her.

Gregor Clegane.

He looked at her for a moment, and then, much to Sansa’s surprise, he gently picked up Bran and took him into his arms, began to make his way towards the main castle. Not knowing of what else to do, and still scared of being discovered, she did the only thing could think of…

And ran.
________________________________________

Catelyn was going about her daily duties when she heard a commotion in the main courtyard. She figured that the Lannister men and The Stark men had once AGAIN gotten into a fight. She swore she had broken up at least a dozen over the last 2 days, practice duels that always escalate into fists fights. She walked into the courtyard, prepared to make a scene.

“Alright, If any of you are fighting-” She began. She quickly fell silent when she saw what was happening. Gregor Clegane, The Mountain, was surrounded by a circle of confused and worried looking guards and servants as he marched forward with Bran in his arms. Catelyn runs up to him, pushing through the small crowd.

“Dear Gods, my baby boy,” She wailed. She placed her hand on him, but the boy flinched in pain. “What happened? Someone tell me what happened!”

“Fell from the tower.” Clegane said simply, voice cutting through the yelling and chattering of the ever growing crowd. He tilted his head back, indicating to the Broken Tower in the distance.

“I don’t….how-” Catelyn tried, mouth not being to form a sentence. She didn’t know what to say. She felt fluish, a horrible feeling in her stomach. Her boy Brandon Stark, lying broken in Gregor Clegane’s massive arms.

“Get the Maester now, or the boy will die and details won’t matter.” Clegane barked, snapping Catelyn out of her trance.

“Someone get Luwin NOW.” She commanded. Several guards and servants ran toward the keep. Clegane followed behind them, along with Catelyn. When they got inside, Maester Luwin was already coming down the stairs.

“Gods, what happened?” Luwin asked, getting close to observe the boy. He looked up at Clegane skeptically and with accusation in his eyes.

“Take the boy now, I will explain later.” He replied. Luwin squinted his eyes at him for half a second, before nodding, and having his assistants take the boy from Clegane. Catelyn made to follow them, but Luwin stopped her.

“My Lady, it would be better if you stayed here. I’ll have someone-.”

“That’s my son! He needs me. He needs his mother by his side” She yelled. She hadn’t noticed that tears were running down her face by now. Luwin gave her a sympathetic look.

“Please Catelyn, you must let us work.” He said. Catelyn looked as if she wanted to say something else, but closed her mouth. She fell to her knees and began openly sobbing.

“Please help Lady Stark to her quarters.” Luwin instructed one of the servants. The servant knelt by Catelyn and helped her to her feet, and began to escort the hysterical mother to her room. Catelyn gave a last look back at The Mountain before being led away.

“And someone send a rider out to get Lord Eddard as quickly as possible. We need him here as soon as possible.”

____________________________________________________________________________

It took hours for Ned and the King’s hunting party to finally return. By then, Maester Luwin had already done what he could for the day. The boy was shattered. Multiple bones broken, including his spine, internal bleeding, and likely some form of head trauma. He could only do so much with injuries of this caliber; truly, it was up to the gods. When he finished doing what he could, he allowed Catelyn to sit next to his bedside. He made it clear that she could not touch him at this time- any little thing could send the young boy to the gods. So she sat there is pure anguish, crying silently. Ned arrived in the bedroom, still covered in dirt, and smelling like the wilderness. He walked to the bed and looked at his son with sorrow.

“I always told that boy to be careful with that damned climbing” He said woefully. “I should’ve been stricter. Corrected him more harsh. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Catelyn said nothing, just continuing to silently cry over her son.

“Maester Luwin said that his back…..that he might not walk again if- when he wakes.”

Catelyn still said nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge when he walked into the room.

“Catelyn please, say someth-”

“You were gone.” She finally said.

“What?”

“You were gone” She said again, louder now. “Of having a merry time with your old friend...while I was here, alone.”

Ned gave her a helpless look. She still had tears in her eyes, but her voice was angry now, indignant.

“Catelyn, I as Lord of this house, I was doing my duty to the cro-”

There was that word. Duty. that word she fucking hated.

“Bollocks!” She shouted, suddenly standing and facing Ned. “Bollocks! You and you’re damned duty. You and that damned king.”

“Cat, you can’t speak of the king like-”

“Don’t fucking CAT me!” She screamed “Robert has always taken you away from. He tells you to march, and you march. You matched south, and came back with a BASTARD. And now…...tell me Ned, tell me….do you still plan to go with Robert to King's Landing?”

Ned had the grace to look guilty.

“Cat….the king needs me-”

“Your SON needs you. I need you. Bran is laying here in pieces, and you plan on following that fat whoreson a month’s ride away!”

“Watch your words woman!” Ned threatened taking a step forward. “I know you’re upset. Gods I know you are, but you will not talk to me that way, and you will not talk of the king that way.”

Catelyn just looked at him in disgust. He didn’t realize it, he COULDN'T realize it, but what he was doing would prove to be irreversible. Catelyn quietly sat back down by her son. Ned sighed, and turned to head out the room.

“Please Cat, try and understand.” He pleaded, but she wasn’t listening. He made his choice once again.

So she was going to make hers.
___________________________________________
Sansa was terrified.

What she saw, who she saw, it was just too much.

The queen and Ser Jaime, fucking. Obviously not for the first time, not that that would’ve made a difference.

They tried to kill Bran. The boy was only 8. He didn’t know what he was looking at. He wouldn’t have told anyone a thing. That didn’t matter to Cersei and Jaime however; they didn’t want to take the risk.

But thank the gods Bran lived. He was in shambles, body broken, but he was alive, though no one could say for how long.

And then there was the matter of her. What she saw. Sansa witnessed everything. And she DID understand what was happening. If she would’ve came forward about what happened, no doubt Ser Jaime and the Queen would be in shackles in a heartbeat.

But she hadn’t come forward. It had been a full day since Bran’s fall from the tower, and she hadn’t said one word.

Why?

The answer was simple. Sansa still wanted to be queen.

If she told of what she saw, her father would never let her marry Joffrey. She knew it was terrible but it was the truth. This was Sansa’s chance to become the most important and most envied woman in all of Westeros.

She told herself that it was Bran’s fault for climbing in the first place. He was told so many times how dangerous it was. She had gone and visited him that night, sitting with their mother for a while. She looked so drained. She stayed for a while, before deciding to head back to her room. She walked out of the room, letting the door close behind her; she turned left to begin walking, when she ran into a solid mass, almost knocking her off her feet.

“I’m sorry Lady Sansa.”

Oh Gods.

Sansa looked up. It was Jaime Lannister.

‘Oh Gods he’s come to kill Bran. He’s come to kill ME.’ She thought in pure panic.

“My lady, is something the matter?” Jaime asked in genuine confusion. She must have been staring at him like a scared rabbit. It dawned on her that they hadn’t actually seen her, and that she had to act normal for them not to expect anything.

“S-Ser Jaime. What are you doing here at these hours?” She asked. Jaime put in his best sympathetic face.

“I heard what happened to the boy. My condolences to you and your family.” He said bowing his head. Sansa frowned slightly. He lied so easily.

“Yes, my mother is taking it especially hard. Having Bran pushed from the tower like that.” Sansa said, eyes cast downward to her feet. When he didn’t respond, she looked back up, and saw that he was staring at her, eyes wide, and jaw fixed.

“Ser?” She asked cautiously

“Pushed?” He asked simply?

Shit.

She messed up. Slight slip of the tongue, one that could prove deadly with someone like Jaime Lannister.

“Yes pushed….by a hard gust of wind. He lost his grip and fell. Nothing anyone could’ve done.” She said, trying to hide the panic from her voice. Jaime just looked at her, face unreadable. After a while, he smiled slightly.

“You know, I think now would be a good time for another queen lesson” He suddenly said. Sansa felt a wave of relief wash over, seemingly being convincing enough. But then she was suddenly confused.

“Now Ser? I don’t think I’m in the right spirits to-“

“Nonsense. A queen must always be ready, even in the face of tragedy” He said, grabbing her by the forearm. He began dragging her down the corridor. She tried to lightly pull from his grip without making it too obvious, but he held her fast, dragging her to a small alcove in an empty corridor. It was one of the back halls for servants and workers, but it was only used for large events to prevent congestion, otherwise it was completely devoid of life. Sansa looked around nervously as he pushed he back against the wall

“Your next lesson to be a queen. Your mouth.” He said.

“My….mouth Ser? You mean like my smile?”

“Not only your smile. How you talk, how you eat. Your mouth is key part of how people perceive you.” He explained. As he spoke he brought his hand up and gently rub his fingers over her lips. Sansa noticed that his hands were warm. Slowly, using his index finger, he gently pushed between her lips, forcing the digit in. She looked up with apprehension, but didn’t attempt to move. She was scared, confused, but part of her wanted to see where this would go.

“Suck.” He commanded. Sansa found herself complying without hesitation. Sucking on the finger of the man who not a day ago tried to murder her brother. Her tongue brushed over his calloused skin, realizing that she didn’t mind the texture. He added another digit, his middle finger. Sansa swirled her tongue around his fingers, as if she was cleaning them, making sure to every centimeter of skin.

“Not bad. Quite the skilled little mouth you have” He praised. Sansa actually perked up at his words. This was wrong. She should be terrified of him, yet here she was, sucking on his fingers in a corner of a hallway.

Suddenly and harshly, he pushed his hand forward, driving his fingers into her throat. She gagged violently and tried to back away, but all she ran into was stone.

“Shhh shhh, you’re okay.” He cooed, holding his fingers in her throat. She gag and sputtered as tears formed in the corners of her ears, threatening to spill down her face. “A good queen must maintain composure in stressful situations, remember?”

He begin pistoning his fingers in and out of her mouth. She continued to gag on his fingers, but tried to control her breathing. Drool dripped down her chin and onto her dress. Eventually, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth, leaving a string of spit between her mouth and hand. She breathed a sigh of relief and gasped for air, panting heavily.

“Not bad at all Sansa'' he commended. He wiped his fingers on the side of her face. “But you still have a slot of work to do. On your knees.”

“W-what?” Sansa asked, still sucking in breath. Jaime gave her a hard look.

“A good shouldn’t be told something more than once.”

Sansa stared at him with trepidation, before sinking down to her knees. She sat on her thighs and looked up at the knight looming over her. Jaime wasn’t in his armor, sporting rather an expensive looking pair of trousers, and a tunic, Lannister colors of course.

He adjusted the waist of his trousers, shifting them down his hip along with his small clothes. Sansa’s eyes went wide as his semi-hard cock came into view. Just like the rest of him, his cock was pretty: pubic hair trimmed and maintained, balls symmetrical and large, and shaft long, and skin looking healthy.

Jaime grabbed the base of his shaft, and began to rub the tip of his cock on Sansa’s pretty face. He ran it over her cheeks, over her forehead, her nose; any and every inch of her face that he could. He payed special attention to her lips, smearing his cockhead on her closed, pouting mouth, glistening them with his pre-cum. She did her best not to flinch as he drew on her face with his cock, sitting their submissively, and obediently.

“I feel you can guess what I want you to do next.” Jaime said, still rubbing his cock over her lips. Gulping, Sansa slowly parted her lips, and opened her mouth. Not waiting a moment, Jaime placed his cockhead on her mouth, letting it sit on her tongue, instinctually, closed her lips around him. Sansa experimentally swiped her tongue against his glands, tasting him. Like his fingers, she decided she didn’t mind the taste of him. Jaime was content just letting his cock head sit in her mouth and allow the Stark girl to lavish his cock.

After a while, he began to slowly rock his hips, pushing more of his cock into her small mouth, as he grew harder. The back of Sansa’s head was against the corridor wall, so all she could do was sit there as Jaime pushed into her throat.

“HRURRRKK….” She gagged as he pushed past her tonsils. Her nostrils flared and her cheeks were growing red.

“Keep still girl. You’re doing well. Your mouth feels wonderful.” Jaime praised. Despite her throat burning, she swelled slightly at his praise. Jaime pushed forward more, sliding his now completely hard cock down her throat. Sansa gagged and slapped against Jaime’s toned thighs. “Oh knock that off” He chastised, sharply thrusting his hips forward, fully bottoming out his 9 inch dick into her esophagus, and causing her to wretch loudly around him. Jaime loved the way her throat spasmed and squeezed around him, inadvertently milking him as it tried to dislodge him.

Sansa squirmed and fruitless pushed against Jaime’s thighs. Her head was growing light from lack of air, seeing stars in her vision. Her arms grew weaker and weaker, before eventually falling to her side.

‘He’s trying to kill me! Oh gods oh gods oh gods’, She thought, or at least tried to think; her mind was going blank. Her eyes fluttered closed and she went completely limp, only held up by Jaime’s cock and the wall. Deciding to give the girl a break, he shifts his hips back, sliding his manhood from her throat. She fell against his thighs, unresponsive for a second, before springing back to life, gasping desperately for air.

“Not bad” Jaime said, grabbing Sansa by the top of her head and forcing her to look up at him. “But if you want to be a queen, you must be able to hold a man in your mouth longer than that.”

Once again, without much ceremony, he crammed his cock back down her throat.

‘GLAARCK….’ She gagged ones again as her nose was shoved to his pubic hair. Drool was pooling on her dress as it ran down her chin like a stream.

Jaime repeated this action several times: holding Sansa down on his cock, unmoving, until she was on the brink of unconsciousness, and then pushing her off to allow her to refill her lungs for a few seconds. To her credit, she was lasting longer and longer, even if minutely.

Once he got bored of punishing her throat, he pulled out and grabbed a a handful of Sansa’s red hair, which became disheveled over the course of her oral assault. Using her hair, he wrapped it around his shaft and began jerking himself off with it.

“You did good Sansa. I’m proud of you. Very good….for a Northerner.” He said as he stroked himself off with her hair. She was too light headed to respond intelligently, so all she did was nod numbly. “But there is one final lesson you must know about a queen’s mouth.”

Using his free hand, he grabbed Sansa by her cheeks, forcing her head up.

“A queen knows when to speak…..and when to keep their mouth shut. A queen knows when to be silent, and unheard, UNSEEN.” He said, voice suddenly serious. Even in her hazed state, Sansa got the double meaning of his words. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes Ser. I understand.” She said meekly

“Good.” He said. He stroked himself faster, and with a grunt, he came directly on top of Sansa’s redhead. He shot 3 ropes zigzagging on her head. His cum dripped down her scalp, and onto her forehead and temple. When finished, he wiped his tip on her hair, and tucked himself back in his pants.

“Well, that was truly a progressive session” He said, clapping his hands together. “Give your condolences to your mother” He commented, before turning and walking down the empty corridor.

Sansa just kneeled there, come dripping down her head, unsure of what to do next.

A crown for a queen.
____________________________________________

Arya felt like crying.

First time in a long time.

Bran was hurt. He might die.

She sat in the Godswood, in front of the Heart Tree.

She was praying- well attempting to pray- like her father always told her to do when she felt distressed.

“The Old Gods will always provide”, he’d always tell her. That is she prayed hard enough, and kept to the path, they’d watch over her and her siblings. She didn’t feel very watched over at that moment. She imagined Bran didn’t feel very watched over laying in bed, fighting for his life. But she prayed nonetheless, speaking words to a tree with an ugly face carved in it.

“Ugly fucker, isn’t he?”

Arya whipped her head around, and saw the young prince Joffrey strolling up to her. She smiled slightly at his presence, standing to meet him.

“So this is how you Northerners pray? You come to the woods and kneel in the dirt.” He teased, but Arya was in no mood. Sensing this, he changed tactics. “I heard about your brother. Nasty bit of business, that fall.”

Arya gave a non committal sound and turned back to the Heart Tree. Not liking not being the center of his attention, Joffrey stepped forward to stand next to her. “Though praying to trees, no surprise something like this happened.”

Arya turned and frowned at him.

“Are you trying to be an ass?” She asked harshly. Joffrey just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m just being honest.” He said. “I mean really. Trees and forest people? I know you Northerners are a primitive but your superstitions are the machinations of children.”

Arya felt her face growing red. Why was he talking like this, being purposely hurtful? Joffrey continued on with his ranting.

“The Sevens, blessed be thy names, are the gods of the civilized, the Andals. Not some Children of the Dirt.”

“Children of the FOREST.” She corrected

“Whatever.” Joffrey dismissed. “All I’m saying is, if you worshiped the right gods, maybe they wouldn’t have had to scoop your brother off the gro-“

Arya had heard enough.

She swung around, expecting to hit Joffrey with the back of her fist. However he caught it with ease, and twisted it behind her back.

“Let me go!” She shrieked as she struggled and bucked in his grasp. He held her firm, one arm behind her back, the other catching other her wrist to stop any further attacks

“Calm down” He said simply.

“Why? So you can just hurt me?” She yelled. “Was your night with me so unpleasant, that you’re trying to drive me away?”

Arya REALLY felt like crying now.

Joffrey pressed his chest against her back and leaned down to whisper in her ear

“I’m not saying this to hurt you stupid. I’m saying all this because I know you’re BETTER than this.” He explained as if talking to a child. Arya halted her struggling and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Better? Better than wh-“

Before age could finish her sentence, Joffrey spun her around and pulled her into a searing kiss. She squealed, before melting into it, hands going to his blonde hair, and sliding down her back to her bubble ass. After a few seconds, he pulled back.

“-BETTER than worshiping tree people and forest sprites. Better than praying in the dirt. Better than the North.”

Arya’s mouth formed a hardline, but she didn’t interrupt, and listened intently.

“The North, your family, is living in the past. Living like mongrels. But you, you see that don’t you. You see that there’s a future for you outside of this frozen wasteland. A future south, a future around the world. YOU can be so much better.”

Arya swallowed as she tried to think of a rebuttal. She wanted to disagree, to defend her home and the beliefs of her people.

But she couldn’t

He was right. She wanted more than the North. She wanted more than the superstitions hammered into her head by her father. She wanted more, she wanted something new.

She wanted Joffrey.

“You’re a bastard.” She said without much bite. Joffrey just smirked.

“And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He once again covered her mouth with his, devouring her, groping every inch of her fat ass. She moaned into his mouth, pushing her hips back into his large hands.

‘Gods, what is he doing to me?’

Arya hated and loved how Joffrey got into her mind and body. He was able to read her thoughts and make her body ache and squirm under his touch.

He disconnected his mouth from hers. She whimpered at the loss of contact with his lips and tried to follow his mouth, but he stopped her. He looked down at her half lidded eyes with intensity.

“Get that fucking dress up, NOW.” He ordered. Arya’s cunt dripped at his commanding tone. She figured he could tell her just about anything and she’d listen. Arya spun around, and hiked up her dress, bunching the fabric around her hips. Arya’s small clothes were more a formality when she wore dresses; her fat bottom swallowed up and stretched the fabric to its limit. She spread her legs shoulder width apart and bent over slightly, putting her hands on her knees, presenting herself.

Joffrey reigned down a smack to her right ass cheeks, making it quake and jiggle. Arya gasped out and moaned in pain and pleasure. She’d never minded pain, always partaking in activities in which she might hurt herself, but in this moment, Arya realized she actually LIKED the stinging and hotness spreading across her ass. Joffrey laid another smack, this time to her left cheek. He was having the time of his life playing with her large pale globes. He dug his fingers into her assflesh, kneading it and feeling it, much like their night they spent together in her bedroom. Except this time, he planned on going much farther than just feeling. His hands slid to the waist of her smallclothes, and with ease, he tore them apart, leaving them in tatters, and her cunt exposed to the cold air. She shivered a bit at the coldness, and in anticipation.

Joffrey began fumbling with his own trousers, freeing his cock from it’s confines. He let his hardening cock plop against her ass, and gave it a few slaps with it. Arya mewled and pressed back against him, grinding herself against his hardness.

“Excited for Southern cock, I see.” He teased. Arya didn’t fully want to give in to his taunts of the north, despite him being right; her juices ran down her leg at the feeling of him.

Joffrey grabbed Arya by her hips, and lined himself up with her entrance. In one fell swoop, he drove his hips forward and pulled her back, filling her completely, and tearing through her maidenhead.

Arya groaned and gritted her teeth as her ‘innocence’ was torn away. She tried to control her breathing as her cunt adjusted and shaped itself to his size. Joffrey on the other hand was in pure and complete bliss, praising the Seven for bringing him a woman with such a fiery spirit, and tight warm quim.

“Does it hurt?” Joffrey asked? Arya just groaned in response, earning her a sharp smack to the ass. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes….” She said after a moment.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, letting concern spill into his voice. Arya turned her head and gave him an incredulous look.

“Fuck no!”

Joffrey just gave her a toothy grin, before pumping his hips, fucking her.

‘Gentle’ and ‘restraint’, weren’t words in Joffrey’s vocabulary, so he set a brutal pace, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, snapping his hips against her round ass, being swallowed by her cunt. Anyone who walked into the Godswood at that moment likely would be able to hear the slapping noises they were making from the entrance.

Arya took his brutal fucking with stride, throwing her hips back to meet his thrusts. The mix of pain and pleasure was intoxicating to her, and the longer he fucked her, less pain she felt, and the more the pleasure grew.

“Fuck...fuck...fuck” She moaned as he railed her. Joffrey let one of his hands thread itself through Arya’s brown hair, and pulled, forcing her head up, and back to arch into him. She now was looking straight at The Heart Tree, her family’s most sacred idol, as she was having her cunt drilled by the southern prince.

“Wonder what your tree god thinks, watching you get fucked” He groaned harshly into her ear. Arya shivered and moaned at his taunts. Part of her, a small part, wanted to defend her people’s religion, but that part was currently being drowned out by the part of her wanting to come around his hard cock.

“GODS” Joffrey said dramatically. “If you disapprove of me defiling a maiden in front of you, strike me down where I stand!” He boomed, giving Arya an extra hard thrust just for good measure. He stilled, enjoying the feeling of her clenching around him, as he waited for his smiting. When nothing happened, he gave a childlike laugh, and resumed ramming into her.

“See? Your silly northern gods are NOTHING.” He said harshly. Arya could do nothing but groan as she felt herself growing close to her climax. “Just silly superstitions. But you knew that. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here giving yourself to me, like a good whore.”

Arya’s knees were growing weak, trembling as he fucked her faster and faster, almost as if his taunts were giving him more energy to destroy her cunt with. His words were getting to her as well. In her fuck filled haze, she found herself agreeing with Joffrey about the North, and their silly, inferior ways. The old gods, the cold, her family that never understood her, Joffrey’s words rang true in her ears, along with his moans and grunts.

“You’ll fit right in in King's Landing. Beautiful, sexy” He breathed out shakily. He was close to his limit too. “By the Seven I can’t wait to see you in a tight southern dress, just so I can tear it off!”

Joffrey landed another smack to her ass, and that was all it took to send her over the edge and take her peak. Her cunt tightened around him, and her legs stiffened and shook as her orgasm ripped through her.

“YESSSSSS….” She moaned as her cunt gushed. Joffrey followed soon behind her, roaring into her ear, and hilting himself deep in her. He shot one, two, three, and then 4 thick and heavy ropes of his fertile cum into her. Arya pushed and grinded her hips back, making sure to extract every last drop she could from him.

“That’s right. Take my seed.” He moaned. “Take all of me.”

Arya nearly came once again at his words, as he rocked his hips shallowly in her. Arya could’ve stayed like this forever, full of him, forgetting all her problems. Just her and him. Eventually, he pulled out, letting his cock flop down between her legs. Arya squeezed her cunt together, trying to keep his seed in her, not wanting to waste it. He turned her around, and pressed a kiss to her mouth, this one soft and passionate. After a while, he pulled back, and the two just looked at each other in comfortable silence.

“I can’t wait to take you to my home.” Joffrey said earnestly.

“I can’t wait to make it MY home.” She replied.

They stood there in each other's arms, in the Winterfell godswood, dreaming about being far, far away from.
____________________________________________________________________________

Clegane’s tent was farther than she thought it’d be.

Though technically a personal guard, and permitted to stay in the walls of Winterfell. The Mountain chose to stay in a personal tent outside the walls, close to, but not within the encampment of the Crown’s men. This actually worked in Catelyn’s favor, meaning she could move about without the greater risk of being seen by either her, or the King’s men.

She arrived at his tent, and proceeded to stand outside of it for 10 minutes.

She….was nervous, but not afraid. She couldn’t be afraid of him anymore, not after what he did for her son. He was there for her son…..and her husband wasn’t. Gregor Clegane, The Mountain, the man who forced himself on her and brought her to climax, the man who fucked her throat like she was some common whore, the man who had horror stories written about him -had saved her son.

“Are you going to stand out there all fucking night?”

His voice bombing through the night here made her jump. Clegane opened his tent flap, and was standing there looking at her expectantly. She looked at him, and then to her surroundings, making absolutely sure no one was there, before walking forward into his tent.

Unsurprisingly his large tent was lightly furnished. Just a large hay bed, along with a trunk for his belongings, a table and chair, and a fire pit in the middle.

“May I sit?” She asked, unsure of what to say. She was the lady of these lands, so she didn’t actually need his permission, but she still felt the need to seek it. The Mountain just grunted and gave a tight nod.

Instead of going to the chair, Catelyn moved to his bed, and took a seat. Clegane arched a large eyebrow at her.

“My son….Bran. He’s injured- injured horribly. But the maester thinks he can survive if they keep up his treatment.”

Catelyn was struggling to get the words out. Just talking about it was a challenge for her.

“ The Maester said….Maester Luwin Said had it been any, longer he would’ve died.” She explained, holding back her tears. Clegane didn’t respond. He just looked down at her and let her continue.

“You are the only reason my son is still alive” She said, voice just barely above a whisper. She was standing now, stepping closer to the humongous man so she was just mere inches away from him. “And for that….I'm forever thankful. Forever grateful to you.”

She placed her hand on his broad chest. She could feel his strong muscular under his leisure shirt. She nearly shivered at how it felt in her hand.

“And because I’m grateful, you can request anything of me. Ask, and I’ll make it so with all the powers I have as the Lady of The North.” She said breathlessly. “So Clegane….what is it that you want?”

“You know what I want, or you wouldn’t be here right now.” He said simply. Catelyn almost felt herself smile. He could be clever when he wanted.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She said. Catelyn took a step back, so that The Mountain could see her fully. She shrugged off the long fur she was wearing to keep warm, revealing her nude form underneath. Clegane inclined his head upward, in silent approval.

“Well?” She asked teasingly. “Come and get your prize.”

A moment later, he was on her, lifting her by her waist, to press a hard kiss to her mouth. Catelyn wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed back fiercely. It dawned on her that this was the first time they kissed. He had bent her over and fucked her, and made her swallow his seed, but they never shared something as simple as a kiss. She thought that she could get used to it: the passion of his mouth on hers, the way his large tongue moved in her mouth. She hadn’t kissed Ned with this much passion in years, maybe even ever. She felt so young. All she felt over the last 2 days, was dread, fear, anger. She wanted to feel something else. She NEEDED to feel something else. She needed to feel Clegane again.

Catelyn pulled her mouth, breathing heavily.

“Oh gods Clegane, just fucking take me.” She demanded lewdly. “How do you want me?”

The large man thought for a moment, running his hands over Catelyn’s sizable ass as he contemplated. After a several seconds, he set Catelyn down, much to her internal protest - she liked the feeling of having him hold her up - and moved to his bed to lay down. He got himself comfortable, and pointed at his manhood straining in his pants.

“Ride” was all he said, and all Catelyn needed to hear. She moved to the foot of the bed, and began to seductively crawl towards him. She settled herself between his large thighs, and reached up to the waistband of his trousers. He’d already untied them, allowing her to pull them down his hips and large legs. She pulled them completely off, leaving his lower half exposed, while he worked at getting his shirt off.

‘Gods, he’s just so...much’, She thought, appreciating the whole size of him once again.

His cock was still only half hard, so Catelyn decided it was time to get him fully hard. She kneeled on all fours between his prone form, and placed a large open mouth kiss to his cockhead, and then another. She proceeded to make-out with his tip, wetting her lips on it, and slathering it with her tongue. She brought her hand up, to stroke him while continuing to drool and kiss all over his cock, lubing it up, and bringing him to his full, massive length, Once satisfied that he his cock was sufficiently covered in saliva, she stood up on his bed, and maneuvered herself over his cock.

‘I told him never again, and here I am about to impale myself on his beast...I suppose things change.’

Catelyn began to bend her knees, and sink down on his manhood. Clegane just watched, arms folded behind his head, as she lowered herself onto him, an inch at a time. It had been weeks since he took her in the Winterfell dungeon, and Catelyn almost forgot how massive he felt in her, stretching her walls to unfathomable lengths. She groaned as she sank a quarter way down his cock, which was over 6 inches.

“Fuuuuuckk….” She moaned. It hurt, but it hurt so GOOD. Having to deal with Ned’s….lacking in his manhood, Catelyn was never able to realize that she was an absolute size queen. As she got more and more of his cock in her, and her cunt dripped and gripped him, she couldn’t imagine having a cock any smaller inside of her.

Suddenly, Catelyn’s foot slips. Her foot slips from under her, making her lose her balance completely, and freefall onto his massive rod. The sudden intrusion of his full length caused her to scream out in a mixture of pain, and bliss. She felt him in her stomach. She could SEE him in her stomach, bulging out, making its presence known. She just sat there, on his cock for a while, walls clenching around him, in a haze. A sudden slap to her large tits, snapped her out of it.

“RIDE” He ordered once again. Collecting herself, Catelyn began rocking her hips on his dick. Sided to side, back and forth, feeling him grind against the walls of her cunt. Clegane’s large hands went to her tits, groping them as she grinded herself on him.

“Cleganes...Clegane...Clegane-” She moaned with her eyes closed. He gave a sharp upward thrust of his hips, causing her eyes to snap open and look at him.

“Gregor.” He grunted. “You will call me Gregor.”

“Gregor….gods” She moaned one again. Saying his given name felt weird on her tongue, but it was certainly something she could get used to.

Catelyn readjusted herself, so that her feet were flat against the bedding, and her hands could rest on Clegane’s rib cage. Slowly, she began to bounce her on his cock, ass jiggling everytime it came down and made contact with his thighs. Clegane let his hands slide to her hips so he could control and guide her motions, leaving her tits to swing and bounce in the air.

-SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP- filled the tent, as she began to bounce faster and faster on his cock, building to her imminent orgasm. Gregor was thrusting upwards, to meet her, forcing his cock ever so deep into her, deeper than she ever knew.

She was in heaven. Her son, Ned, her general unhappiness; all fell to the wayside as she rode and bounced on his cock. He was her respite. He was her escape.

“I want to feel your cum in me, please…” She moaned, legs growing weaker as she knew she was about to cum “My cunt is yours! Oh god Gregor, it’s all yours! GregorGregorGREGOR!”

Catelyn let out a howl resembling a cat as she came. Gregor followed right behind her, pulling her hips flush to his, as he began to cum inside of her. His load was huge, filling her womb completely in just one shot, and the other 2 shots causing her belly to bugle slightly as it fought for space. Her mouth opened in an ‘O’ as her screams fell silent, and was replaced by her whimpering and throaty mewling.

She fell forward, head landing on his chest as she finally came down from her high. She laid there, feeling more comfortable than she had in months. Gregor, to her surprise lightly stroked her hair as she laid on him.

She could’ve stayed like that for days.

But...she knew she had to go. She had to get back to her son. Her son lying in bed, fighting for his life. Begrudgingly, rolls off of Gregor, and stood, his cum dripping out of her, streaming down her leg.

“I have to go now.” She said hoarsely, throat sore from screaming. Clegane looked at her, and just nodded. “I-” She started. She was at a loss for words. What do you say to the monster that you found comfort in?

“I’ll come and see you again. Soon” She said simply. To her surprise, her genuine shock. He gave her a small smile.

“Ok.”

She looked at him, waiting for any more words, but there were none. There didn’t need to be.

“Ok” She repeated back, pulling on her furs. She gave him one last look, before exiting his tent, and heading back to the castle.
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The North Forgot