The North Forgot

BY : Arizona Ice T
Category: G through L > Game of Thrones
Dragon prints: 30455
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or any related media. Not for profit

The King was visiting The North.

The Kingdom of the North, the land of the Starks, was a land often ignored by the Lord of Seven Kingdoms; but now, King Robert Baratheon was headed north, to see his old friend, and the Stark patriarch Eddard Stark.

Arya was excited. She was going to meet the royal family. Things were always so boring in the North. Nothing to do in all the cold. Sansa was fine staying indoors and stitching all day, but Arya needed something more.

She was looking forward to this.
______________________________________________________________________________
Catelyn Stark was dreading the visit of the king.

It was not that she disliked King Robert personally. The Baratheons and the Tully’s always had a civil relationship. It was that she just knew that the visit would take all focus away from her husband. The pair had not seen each other in nearly a decade. The leaders of Robert’s Rebellion. The defeaters of the Targaryen dynasty. That felt like eons ago. The pair would no doubt be reminiscing about the glory days of a bygone era. She knew that by the end of it, the castle would be in shambles from all the men and drinking, with no doubt that Robert would partake in a large portion of it

And what was Robert doing there anyway? Jon Arynn, her brother-in-law, had just died suddenly. Shouldn’t he be worrying about that? Shouldn’t he be in search of another hand-to-the-king. Robert was never the most responsible man, but even this seemed foolish for him.

Yes. She could tell this would be a long few weeks.
______________________________________________________________________________

Arya watched intently as the king’s caravan arrived. They must’ve been 100 men strong, maybe 200. Her father had guards and bannermen, but nothing like this. She, her siblings, her parents, and all the castle workers and common folk were there to try and get a glimpse.

First came the soldiers holding the King’s sigil, then came the the elite guards. Then directly behind them, came the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey Baratheon.

Arya had only heard of Joffrey. Now that she thought about it, she had only heard of all of the Lannisters and Baratheons. King’s Landing was months away by horse.

Arya did not have much interest in boys, but she had to admit the Joffrey was a handsome young man. Strong jaw, beautiful hair, cool blue eyes. Truly regal looking. Joffrey glanced at her, caught her staring. He gave her a slight smile. Arya averted her eyes. She could feel a slight blush coming on, but she could just blame it on the cold. She looked up at her sister Sansa. She had a smile on her face, and was openly staring at Joffrey; she must of thought he was smiling at her.

Of course she did, she thought everything was about her.

Arya was snapped out of her thoughts by the man following behind Joffrey.

Well if you could call him a man.

Ser Gregor Clegane. The Mountain.

Arya had never seen a man so large in her life. He had to be nearly 8 feet tall. His horse looked double the size of a normal one. He was wearing menacing, all black armor, and the sword at his side had had to be bigger than her father.

She turned her head and caught a glimpse of her mother. Her skin had grown pale, and her eyes wide. Her mother looked at her father, who also had a concerned look on his face. She leaned in to whisper to him, but Arya always had good hearing.

“Is that who I think it is? Her mother whispered harshly

“Aye. I suppose it is” He father answered, not looking at her.

“I will NOT have that man in my home.” Her mother said, eyes blazing. Her father gave her a weary look.
“Cat-“ He tried.

“Do you know what he’s done?” She said, not really asking.

“I’ve heard the stories” He said simply. Her mother just glared at him. “He’s loyal to the Lannisters and the crown. I’ll make sure Robert has him on a short leash, alright? Now I’ll hear no more about this.” Her father stated. Her mother narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to the caravan.

Well that was interesting, Arya thought. Seems like she had to do some further investigating on the giant man.

Soon, the main attraction showed, The King. Robert Baratheon. He was fatter than she thought he’d be. She always figured a king would look…well kingly. She glanced back at Joffrey and tried to see any resemblance, but could find none. The seed must not be strong.
______________________________________________________________________________
Following the welcoming, a feast was thrown in Winterfell’s Great Hall. Townsfolk, guardsmen, all were welcomed to revel in the arrival of the King. Sansa was made to sit by Joffrey, while Arya was given Tommen to entertain. Sansa was, of course, happy, giggling and chittering like the silly maiden she was, making constant doe eyes at the prince. Sansa thought she had the handsome prince all to herself. Hell, word was going around that King Robert intended to wed the two, linking the houses of Baratheon and Starks.

Arya frowned at the prospect. Sansa, Sansa. Always being giving what she wanted, and for what? Because she was the oldest. Because she was the prettiest? Because she knew how to stitch dresses?

Whores could stitch dresses and be pretty, but you didn’t see them being handed the position of queen. Sansa wouldn’t make a very good whore though. She talked too much.

Arya and Sansa were beckoned over by the queen, who was sitting next to their mother. They walked over, and the queen addressed them.

“Sansa-“ Cersei said. “Such a pretty girl. Tall too, like me.”

Sansa beamed at the compliments. Arya just rolled her eyes.

“And you…” Cersei said looking over to Arya. “Remind me of your name.”

“Arya.” She said, rather annoyed that the queen didn’t bother to remember her name. She supposed she was used to it though.

“Yes, Arya. you’re very…” Cersei said, apparently searching for a compliment to give the girl. “Well you have very nice birthing hips.”

Sansa snickered at the description of her sister. Arya was not the beauty her sister was. While she was by no means an ugly girl; there are plenty of noblewoman who would in fact fit that description, but she was on the shorter side, and had boyish features. Some assumed she was Bran’s twin given how similar they looked most of their childhood.

But what she did have, a trait she got from her mother and the Tully side of the family, was generous birthing hips. She was skinny as a rail up until the age of 14, and then suddenly, her bottom half began filling out nicely over the last 3 years; a plump ass, thick thighs, and wide hips. Sansa had always teased her for it. Truth is she was just jealous, given her petite frame; nonetheless, the constant teasing did get to Arya, who saw her figure as a negative.

Arya just frowned. Their mother dismissed them, and Arya decided she had enough of the feast and stormed out of the Great Hall. Sansa smirked, satisfied that she got under her sister’s skin. As she returned to her seat, she noticed Joffrey was nowhere to be seen She looked around, wondering where prince went.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Arya left the Great Hall for the castle in a foul mood. Her sister was always a right cunt to her. She thought just because she was the oldest, and prettiest, that she could treat her however she wanted. As if it made up for that empty head of hers. Arya was so swept up in her internal rant, that she didn’t notice the body in front of her. She bumped into them, causing her to stumble backwards on fall onto her bottom, with an OOF.

“Watch where you’re going.”

Arya was about to tell off this person for their rudeness, until she looked up, and saw that it was Joffrey staring down at. His mouth was fixed into a light scowl as he brushed off his shirt and coat.

“Sorry…” She said looking up at him. Even in the dark, Joffrey’s blonde hair seemed to shine, and his blue eyes almost looked like they glowed.

Fuck, he’s handsome, thought Arya, as she stared up at him from below. She must’ve been staring for a tad too long, since Joffrey raised a blonde eyebrow at her.

“Aren’t you going to help me up?” Asked Arya, trying to cover her obvious staring. The prince just snorted.

“Why? You have two perfectly good hands and feet.”

“Because I’m a lady.”

“And? I’m a prince”

Arya snorted and laughed at his response. She was so used to people babying her, that it was actually refreshing to have someone not, even if it came out in a pompous attitude. She got to her feet and brushed herself off.

“Why aren’t you in there celebrating” She asked. Joffrey just rolled his eyes.

“What’s to celebrate? Riding for months to this frigid, grey wasteland.” Said Joffrey in a snide tone. While she didn’t appreciate the description of her home as a wasteland, he was right. Winterfell was grey and cold. Hell their house colors were grey. Arya looked at the gold and red in his clothing, and wondered if one day she’d have clothes as colorful as that. “Or should I be celebrating being shackled to your sister?” He said frowning.

Arya’s eyebrows shot up at the direct insult to her sister. All the boys loved Sansa. She was pretty and docile. A highborn man’s dream.

“You don’t like her?” She prodded.

“Ha! I’ve only spent half the day with her, and she’s been chattering my ear off about poems, what color she wants at her wedding, about how pretty our children will look.” He ranted mockingly. Arya let out a bark of laughter. She was starting to like the prince already.

“Should you really be speaking of your betrothed in such a way?” Arya teased.

“Hmph. No different than how my father speaks of my mother.” He said, his tone suddenly turning solemn. Arya figured that it must be a sore subject for him.

“You know, If you don’t want to marry her, you don’t have to.” Said Arya earnestly. Joffrey just snorted and shook his head.

“Don’t be daft. I have no choice in the matter. It is my duty to my family and the crown.” He said, though Arya wasn’t entirely sure that he believed his own words. “If my father wishes me to marry Sansa, it will be done. The same will happen to you.” He said through a frown.

“Not me. I’m not going to let some lord I don’t even like take me, just because it’s my duty” She said spiritedly.

Joffrey stared at her, and then smirked.

“So if it was a lord you DID like, you’d let them take you” He said smoothly, taking a slight step closer to her. Arya’s face went slightly red. Was he flirting with her? Arya had never been flirted with before. All the boys always gave Sansa attention. She was the pretty one after all. Yet here was the prince of the Seven Kingdoms, talking to her instead of her sister. Arya almost felt overwhelmed, but she was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Hm, maybe. They’d still have to work for it though.” She said, matching his energy. Joffrey just smiled at her more.

“You are an intriguing girl, Arya Stark.” He admitted.

“Heh, you actually know my name.” She said smiling.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, raising a confused eyebrow.

“No reason. Well I think it’s time I made my way to my chambers.” She said, making her way past him. She looked over shoulder, sparing him a glance.

“Goodnight Joffrey.”

“Goodnight Arya.”
______________________________________________________________________________
Catelyn always hated feasts.

While they were rare occasions, they always proved to be hectic. No one ever thinks about what happens AFTER a feast. Drunks staggering around everywhere, stumbling into places they don’t belong. She had already found a man passed out near one of the stables, and caught a couple fucking near the training yard. Catelyn took it upon herself to clear out the rabble, and generally her presence and disapproving scowl alone was enough to scare a commoner or guardsmen sober with apologies, and get them on their way.

She had cleared the courtyards of the vagrants and drunk soldiers, but there was one last place to check.

The Godswood.

Catelyn never liked this godswood.

She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers. The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay.

The only redeeming feature in her eyes, were the hot springs. The springs were closed off to the common folk, and even the guardsmen. Only the Starks, Jory, and honored guests were given permissions to use them.

But nevertheless, every once in a while they have to deal with the guardsman or laborer who tries to sneak their way in. Ned usually let trespassers off with a warning, and generally that warning was all that was needed. Ned wasn't a cruel lord, but he did take respect of the Old Gods seriously.

 

Catelyn walked toward the springs, and she heard the sounds of someone moving in water.

 

Great.

 

Someone was there. Just what she needed. The springs were hidden in a natural alcove of trees and rock, so it made it easy to see someone in there, before they saw you. She got closer, expecting to see a drunken guardsman and a woman.

 

What she did not expect to see, was the massive torso of Gregor Clegane sticking out from the water.

 

Catelyn froze, not daring to take another step.

Seeing Clegane out of his usual dark armor, it really dawned on her just how MASSIVE the man really was. Cat was tall for a woman, but her head just barely met his ribcage. His chest and shoulders were wide, and all muscle. He had arms like small tree trunks. He was truly a specimen of a man.

 

Catelyn found herself noticing something else about Clegane.

 

He was a handsome man. By no means matching the looks of say Jaime Lannister, but he was surprisingly well groomed, beard covering his round face. Outside of a small scar under his eye, his skin was unblemished and his complexion clear, surprising for a seasoned warrior.

 

He almost reminded her of Brandon.

 

No.

 

What was she thinking. To even compare the late Brandon Stark to….HIM.

 

She should just leave. She should get a guard, or rather several. She didn’t have to be there. She knew what he was. What he’s done. What he’s capable of.

 

But she told herself she wouldn’t allow any man to make her feel fear in her own home. She was the Lady of these lands and-

 

“Whoever’s there, best come out.-“ Interrupted Clegane’s baritone voice. It startled Catelyn, who realized she never knew what the man sounded like. The force of his voice matched him. She didn’t move, finding herself holding her breath.

 

“Don’t make me come and get you.” He said. It wasn’t a threat. Just a statement of fact. Catelyn staled herself. She wouldn’t be bullied in her own home, on her own lands. She stepped out, where he could see her.

 

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. His eyes looked around, then back at her.

 

“Lady Stark” He said simply. Even that made her uneasy.

 

“Clegane” she answered back sternly. “What do you think you’re doing?

 

Clegane lightly scowled at her.

 

“What does it look like woman. I’m taking a bath. Baths rare in The North?” He said, continuing to wash himself. Catelyn’s mouth opened, and she gaped like a fish. Who was he to talk to her like that. She could have him executed if she so demanded it. She wanted to say something, to threaten him, but she thought otherwise. She was the lady of Winterfell. It was expected that she remained composed.

 

“The godswood springs are not for public use. I’m sure that was made clear to you and the other guards.” She said, trying to keep her tone under control.

 

“Aye, but I’m not a guard. I am a knight, and head of the House of Clegane. That makes me a “honored” guest.” He said.

 

Catelyn once again found herself at a loss for words. This wasn’t how she expected this conversation to go. The Mountain was thought to be a dim man, least that’s what she’s heard. But here he was, talking a circle around her.

 

“You weren’t INVITED.” She said throughout gritted teeth. Clegane simply turns his back to the woman, letting her get a glimpse of this muscular back.

 

“Leave me be woman.” He said, not looking at her.

 

“Now look here Clegane, I don’t care that the king brought you along for whatever reason. I am the lady of this house, and you will follow the laws of this castle! Now remove yourself from that spring before I retrieve my guardsmen.” She said, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation. She had had enough of his lip.

 

“Meaning they’re not here.” He suddenly said.

 

“What?”

 

“You said retrieve.” Clegane faced her again as he spoke.” Meaning they’re not here already. It’s just you and me.” He said, as if talking to a child. Catelyn was about to retort, when the full implications of his words dawned on her.

 

She was there alone with him.

 

And she just openly threatened him. The Mountain. The man of unspeakable deeds.

 

She was about to turn tail and run, when he suddenly moved, throwing one huge leg over the edge of the spring, and began climbing out. He was extremely quick for his size.

 

Catelyn took a half step back as he exited the spring. He was in a squatting position, and then stood to his full, massive height.

 

Catelyn eyes went wide as she took in the man; steam coming off his muscular form. She didn’t know why, but her eyes moved themselves downward from his face, to his chest, down his stomach, to his-

 

Oh.

 

Oh gods.

 

Catelyn was looking at the biggest cock she’s ever seen in her life.

 

Not that she had seen many.

She had of course seen Ned’s, who was…adequately endowed. 5 inches was completely acceptable she told herself. It got the job done; giving her children, and continuing the blood line.

 

She had also seen Brandon’s manhood decades ago, something she never told Ned of course. During his courting of her, one night he got drunk, and cornered her in a corridor. He exposed himself to her, telling her he couldn’t wait to be inside her. He was larger than Ned. Around 7 and one half inches. At the time, Catelyn thought that that would never fit.

 

But Clegane, The Mountain, was something entirely different. His cock was massive, swinging between his legs. it had to hang at least 12 inches, and the wasn’t even hard. It was thick as her forearm. It was covered in veins, and it looked as if it was pulsing. His balls were the size of a man’s fist. They looked so FULL.

 

Catelyn found herself thinking about Elia Martell. Everyone knew what Clegane did to Elia Martell and her family during the sack of King’s Landing. How he raped her, and then cut her in half. Least that’s what the stories say. He killed her with two weapons that day. His sword, and the massive bitch breaker hanging between his legs.
Suddenly Clegane took a step toward her, and then another. Catelyn stood frozen as he walked towards her, cock swinging side to side between her legs.

Well, this is how it was going to end.

Raped, split in half by Gregor Clegane in a place that’s supposed to be holy. Maybe she deserved it, she thought, for being too cocky, showing up without any protection, trying to tell a man like The Mountain what to do. Maybe if she didn’t fight, he’d spare the children.

 

He stepped closer once again, now close enough to reach her with an outstretched arm if he chose. She just stared at him, well rather his cock as he came within feet of her.

 

And then he walked right past her.

 

Catelyn let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She turned and saw Clegane was gathering his clothes from a flat rock he had set them on. She stared at him, thoughts. in disarray.

 

Clegane looked over his shoulder at her, then continued to walk away, out of her sight.

 

Catelyn felt her knees shake before giving out. She dropped down to the ground, letting out a shuddering breath.

 

She really hated these godswood.

______________________________________________________________________________

Sansa was pouting. The prince, her soon to be prince, was nowhere to be seen.

 

She was so excited when her parents told her that King Robert was interested in marrying her to Joffrey. She was going to be a princess; the queen one day!

 

Well that was the plan at least. Nothing was official yet, and her mother seemed hesitant to the idea. But why wouldn’t she want her to be happy? She swore if she didn’t get to marry Joffrey, she would just die. She starve herself. Throw herself from the highest tower. She just had to marry him. She had to!

 

First she had to find him though. He had been at the feast, naturally Sansa was keeping him company, and then suddenly he was gone. Gods, she hopped Arya didn’t somehow scare him away. She wouldn’t be surprised. Arya was always ruining things. She never knew her place. She was the younger sister. She was supposed to be quiet, and get whatever Sansa didn’t want. But no, she had to always go and make a nuisance of herself.

 

Sansa searched the courtyards, hoping that Joffrey hadn’t already retired to bed. All of his family was still in the Great Hall, so maybe he was close by. She turned a corner, and saw none other than Jaime Lannister standing off in the distance. He was appreciating a blacksmithing station, hands running over the tools, admiring the forge. Perhaps he knew where her prince ran off to. They were going to be family soon after all, so she’d better introduce herself properly. Not to mention that the prospect of speaking to a handsome knight wasn’t entirely unappealing to her as well.

 

“Ser Jaime ” She called from across the courtyard. Jaime looked up at her, and smiled slightly. Even just a smile had Sansa blushing. She crossed the courtyard over to him.

“Lady Sansa.” He said smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if you saw Joffrey come by here. I couldn’t find him at the hall.”

“No, can’t say that I have. Though I take it by you looking for him, that you don’t mind the prospect of marriage” He said through a smile. Sansa blushed and looked at her feet.

“Well…nothing is official. But I’d be honored to be Joffrey’s wife, and serve the realm.”

Jaime gives her a queer look, almost as if he was looking into her for something. Sansa squirmed a bit under his gaze.

“You know, not everyone is queen material.” He said.

This caught Sansa off guard, who’s eyes grew wide with concern.

“Ser?” She questioned.

“I’ve served under 2 queens. Rhaella Targaryen, and of course my sister. I protected them, served them,” He said. Sansa noticed a particular emphasis on the word ‘served’. “A queen has certain qualities to her.”

“Well Ser- I mean Ser Jaime, My mother and Septa Mordane have taught me everything I need to know about being the perfect lady, and-“

“Being a queen is not something that can be taught like common literacy.” He interrupted. “It is a trait that that few can learn, and even fewer can keep.”

 

Sansa looked up at him in worry. Did she have these traits? Oh Gods, he wouldn’t have brought it up if he thought she did. She wanted to be a good wife for Joffrey. She didn’t want to mess things up with Joffrey before she even got to King’s Landing.

 

Unbeknownst to her, Jaime Lannister was taking in every detail of her reaction and
dismay. He watched as she squirmed and pouted, fidgeted with anxiety at his words.

 

His words were complete bullshit of course. Honestly he had just meant to tease the girl. He did love messing with Starks. A bit of Lannister past time, but how the Stark girl reacted, the dread on her face at the prospect of not being a perfect wife….no, Jaime could have some fun with this. He flashed her a toothy, predatory smile.

 

“Fret not dear Sansa. We’re going to be family after all. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t share what I know with you.”

Sansa’s eyes lit up at this. He had her.

 

“Oh Ser Jaime you would do that for me? Thank you, Thank you!” She said, leaping forward hugging him around his torso and burying her head in his chest. He was a bit surprised by the sudden contact, but wrapped his arms around her nevertheless. She pulled her face off of his chest and looked up at him smiling.

 

“Are you ready for your first lesson?” He asked.

 

“Wait, now?” She questioned.

 

“No time like the present” He replied. Sansa was unsure. This was all so unorthodox. She was used to strict regiments and lesson plans. But she wanted to be perfect for Joffrey, so she slowly nodded her head.

 

“Good. Now…..give me a kiss.” He ordered. Sansa pulled back slightly, eyes growing wide.

 

“S-ser?” She questioned nervously. He just smirked at her.

 

“A kiss girl. Queens are supposed to know how to do these things. To make their husbands happy.”

“I-I don’t know. Septa Mordane always said a lady-“

 

“Sansa Sansa, you’re not going to be a LADY. You’re going to be a princess and a queen. Things are different. Plus, this kind of thing is completely normal South.” He lied.

 

“R-really?” She asked, doe eyed.

 

“Really.” He said.

 

Admittedly he was laying it on a bit thick, but he could get away with it simply because Sansa was not the brightest girl in the world.

Sansa looked around, to make sure no one was looking, and then went to her toes and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips. She held it there for a few seconds, before pulling back. She looked at him nervously, trying to gauge his reaction.

 

“H-how’d I do?” She asked sheepishly. Jaime looked up, as if he was contemplating his answer.

 

“Not bad….for a Northern Girl, but completely dreadful for the south.”

 

Sansa looked as if she’d been slap, face calling into pure despair. Tears started welling up in the corner of her eyes.

This is almost too easy, he thought.

“Don’t worry. That’s why I’m here. To teach you.”

Sansa was once again about to thank , when he bent his neck, and pressed his mouth against hers. She squeaked as his mouth enveloped hers. She instinctually struggled slightly against his hold, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

Jaime shoved his tongue into her mouth, moving it all around, tasting her. At first Sansa just stood there, frozen in shock, but then relaxed into the kiss. She tentatively moved her tongue with his, not being completely sure what to do. She had never experienced anything like this before. None of the epic stories or poems she read mentioned this.

Some of her handmaidens had some experience with the opposite sex, but none of their accounts could have prepared her for what Jaime’s mouth was doing to her body and mind. She felt hot even in the cool night air. Her mind was hazy.

Jaime let his hands slither from her back upper back to the base of her spine, right above her ass. He didn’t go any lower. He knew not to push TOO much. Like a duel, you don’t want to make unnecessary, risky swings at the start. You start slow, tiring out your opponent, and then-

 

Then you strike.

 

He pulled back from the kiss, biting Sansa’s bottom lip as he left. She let out an airy gasp. Her pupils were blown, and she was breathing heavily. She barely remembered how she even got there.

“Not bad for your first lesson.” He said silkily, finally untangling his arms from around Sansa hips.

 

“Lessons? Oh! Yes….lessons. Thank you Ser Jaime . That was- that was different than anything I’ve ever heard of.”

 

“Yes. Northern education isn’t anything spectacular now is it? But like I said, you’re a quick learner. There’s hope for you yet, if you’re willing to learn of course.”

 

Sansa beamed at him.

 

“Oh yes, Ser Jaime . Of course.”

 

“Good. Now, it’s getting rather late. You should probably be off. Whenever you want your next lesson in being a queen, come and find me.”

 

Sansa nodded her head, before turning to leave. He watched her as she left. He had just violated her mouth with his tongue, and she thanked him for it.

 

He had dreaded coming to The North, but maybe there was some fun to be had, in the castle of the Wolves.



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