The Iron King and the Tully Daughter

BY : Inapplicable
Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire
Dragon prints: 21480
Disclaimer: I do not own a Song of Ice or Fire nor any of the characters written by George RR Martin. Nor do I make any monetary gain or profit from the writing of this story.

Would welcome any and all feedback.


“Ahh! Get off me!”, Annila screamed.

One moment Raventree’s outer ward was quiet bar the uncourteous discussion between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, then next it had descended into a cacophony of bloodshed and screeching. The knight of Bracken had twisted their mounts around and charged at the assembled castlefolk; Raventree Hall’s steward, septon, kennelmaster, and serving girls and squires. Annila watched in horror as knight in the gold and brown of his liege rode down Lady Anges’s castellan, a young knight.

One moment she had been replying to Lord Lothar’s remarks with feeble words, then next she was thrown to the mud by the two smelly knight in Lothar’s party.  

A hard hand clamped down onto her mouth stifling another scream, it pushed her roughly down into the squelching mud, she gagged as mud filled her mouth. Annila spat in a futile effort to empty her mouth, the taste as unbearably fowl. As the man above her pushed harder, her cheek distorted against the hard ground beneath the wet soil, every scream became an unintelligible slur. Thick sludge filled her ears and blinded her eye. Her other eye rolled sideways to stare in fear at the tall man. He was wearing a filthy salt-stained jerkin. He grinned down at her showing rotting brown teeth.

She heard Elrie’s pleading squeals become distant, the clash of metal and the bellowing of Lurs’s thick growl. Suddenly a heavy sack was pulled over her head, the scratchy weave made wet sounds as her glossy auburn hair streaked with mud was enveloped by brown cloth. Her vision was reduced to the specks of light between the sack’s poorly woven fibers. Annila’s slender wrister were grabbed in an iron grip and held behind her back as she struggled and moaned, then a length of hempen rope was looped about her throat and tightened.

Annila gasped and writhed, but there was nothing she could be to prevent the inevitable, slowly were vision blurred, the screeching mass of noise around her muffled as her ripe young body became limp and malleable.  

The events that passed next were an indescribable, between her flickering eyelids, she caught glimpses of the rolling hills and blue streams of the Blackwood Vale. She was being carried away from Raventree she slowly realised, her mind had become clouded from a combination of the heavy sack that had been pulled tight around her neck and the increasingly humid air. Every jolt and shift of the horse beneath her caused Annila to moan weakly. In her weakened state, Annila’s attempts to loosen her wrist her futile; someone had bound her wrists and ankles with thick hempen rope, causing her to roll back and forth across the rounsey’s rear. Annila could just make out fragments of her captors’ conversation through the sack, spoken in rough voices as Lord Tommen’s daughter drifted in and out of slumber.

“The King wants her tonight… will make a fine salt wife… he ordered… to give Blackwood girl to Kina”, Annila heard one of the men mutter.

“Strange woman”, said voice from her right, likely riding along side them. “Always has a few girls from raids…”, Annila heard the clop of cantering hooves as a rider urged his mount to move.


Annila yelped in shock as hard callused palm came down hard on her ass-cheeks, taking a few moments to squeeze her malleable silk-encased buttocks.

“Lush smooth skin and a backside built for bedding!”, the new voice roared. Annila desperately squirmed, yet with both limb tightly bound and body slowly succumbing to unwelcome dreamless sleep.

“Still awake, is she?”, the man riding the horse said. “… punished for days… Harwyn’s taken the blackwood girl first… mayhaps?”, the man added with a touch of hope.  

“No, Jadho”, the rider to Annila’s right protested fiercely. “King was her,,, unspoiled…”.

Only after a few moments did Annila’s faltering mind realised that her dearest friend had also been captured by these harsh men. A knife of desperate horror pierced her mind; these men must have taken Raventree and thus must have conquered Lady Agnes’s army and her lord father’s as well. Annila had grown up surrounded by her lord father’s knights and leal servants, as a girl she had played in the godswood with the other noble ladies of lesser blood, and when she was older they had shared secrets and giggled among one another over the boys training in the yard or her father’s fool. When Annila had flowered into a maiden; her lord father’s friends and vassals had visited, asking for her hand in marriage. Her friends and she had always hidden themselves in the audience chamber to giggle or blush over the newcomers, respectively. Riverrun’s cook had always baked her favourite, strawberry tarts. The Septa would teach them sewing and embroidery, while the yard was always filled with the excited chatter of green boys practicing their swordplay.  

Annila shuddered in revulsion as she felt another palm grope her supple backside, his fingers pinching cruelly into her soft feminine flesh.

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