A Stag's Whore

BY : Dorothea_Dumm
Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire
Dragon prints: 12237
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own the Song of Ice and Fire book series, nor the Game of Thrones TV series. I also do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Author Note - Welcome to " A Stag's Whore", my ASOIAF/GoT fanfic. Unlike my Power Ranger fic, this will be a bit slower. Either fortnightly or monthly. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 001 - The Wild Wolf's seed triumphed over the Moon (Tea)

Brandon “The Wild Wolf” Stark as the Heir of Winterfell was fostered at Barrowton with Lord Dustin. He was hot-blooded and wild, more comfortable on a horse than some men were on their own two feet. He often spent his time riding in the Rills, where he caught the eye of Barbrey Ryswell, the daughter of Rodrik Ryswell, Lord of the Rills.


A relationship blossomed and Brandon Stark took Barbrey’s maidenhead. When Rickard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North, called for his son to inform him of the plan to have him and Catelyn Tully, daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, be betrothed and later wed he was confronted with the news that Brandon had in fact put a baby in Barbrey’s belly on their first night together.


With his eye on the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, Rickard noted the births of other Major Houses. Coinciding with the birth of Brandon and Barbrey’s child, Prince Doran Martell, the Lord Paramount of Dorne, welcomed his first child, a girl, while Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, announced the birth of a second son some months later.


Rickard learned of the pregnancy too late to do anything about it, and the only reason the thought had entered his mind was the incessant muttering of Maester Walys in his ear. Brandon and Barbrey were married, the daughter of Lord Ryswell being very heavy with child when she made her oaths to Brandon before the Heart Tree of the Godswood in Winterfell. Barbrey gave birth to a girl, who Brandon named after her.


Despite himself, Rickard came to love his first grandchild. And in time he came to view his son’s actions as a good thing. In light of his firstborn’s hand no longer being up for sale as it were, and his desire to bond his House and his Kingdom with Tully and the Riverlands, Rickard had needed to look for a new path to achieve that. It had led him to look to his lands. Moat Cailin was in ruins but was perhaps the only castle that could be a match for Winterfell. Its defensive capability was that of legend and was still fearsome in its disrepair. A restored Moat Cailin would be a great prize for any Lord sworn to the North, and the Lord who held it would be seen as one of high standing.


So it was that Rickard invested in Moat Cailin to have it made into a great castle once again, ordered for the lands to be made useful once more and made plans for it to become a strong centre of trade. It had led him to the Crannogmen and a renewal of contact between himself and Lord Reed. In time he reached out to Lord Hoster Tully again and with the rise of Moat Cailin, a plan was made to use Moat Cailin to chip away at the growing power of the Freys.


The Late Lord Frey was amassing too much power for either Rickard or Hoster’s liking. The craven was stretching his influence too and playing the Game of Thrones in such a foul way that nearly had Rickard withdraw from the Game in disgust. But he stayed on so as to help Hoster clean up this stain on the Riverlands.


It had also brought him to look over The Gift. A huge portion of land south of The Wall given to the Nights Watch first by Bran the Builder then made larger still by King Jaeherys Targaryen the First, it paid its taxes and sent food and supplies to the Nights Watch rather than the Starks of Winterfell.


But of late the Nights Watch had done little to govern the land and in his efforts to find a large enough carrot to draw Lord Hoster back to the table, Rickard had hit on the idea of using the Gift. He sent Ravens to the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, who proved amenable if argumentative at first. It was fortuitous too, as young Benjen had started looking at the Nights Watch with a fascination that had worried the Lord of Winterfell.


Benjen would be the first, followed by other third and lesser sons of the Lords of the North. The Gift would be ruled by Northmen again, who would work the land and make it yield greater riches than before. Most of this would still be going to The Wall still, but some would be sent to Winterfell.


His Lords were pleased with this, somewhere other than South to send the sons who would not inherit from them. It restored some of the faith many had lost in Rickard. They had started to feel that Rickard was becoming too enamoured with Southron ways and politics. This retaking of a portion of the North was just what they needed. Rickard was surprised by this and thanked the Old Gods for his son, whose actions had caused this chain of events to occur. He felt ashamed of how he had not noticed the alienation he had been causing until he had unknowingly addressed it.


It led to a period of estrangement between himself and Maester Walys, as Rickard took time to focus on restoring his subjects’ faith in him instead of plotting more moves in the Game. It would only be as he died that he realised his folly in taking Walys back into his confidence.


Barbrey Stark, brown of hair and grey eyed, was but five when her family went to Riverrun and she was witness to a duel. A boy made to challenge Catelyn Tully’s betrothed, Eddard Stark, but ended up challenging Barbrey’s father. Brandon happily accepted and entered the duel with Catelyn’s younger brother Edmure as his squire. The duel was hardly a duel. Brandon was the finest blade in the North, and the boy was just that. A boy. It had all very much amused the young Barbrey, and even her mother chuckled as Brandon gave the boy every opportunity to yield until finally he had to end it as decisively as he could without breaking his promise to Catelyn Tully to not kill the boy.


While Catelyn made words of gratitude and Ned spoke favourably of the restraint Brandon showed, the Wild Wolf of Winterfell felt his real reward for not killing the boy was the virginity of Lady Catelyn’s little sister. His wife sang praises of the trout’s eager licking and the girl was so desperate to please the married Northerners. Neither Brandon nor Barbrey remembered to remind the young woman to take her Moon Tea, they trusted her to do it herself.


The family of the Heir of Winterfell would be broken in that same year. Barbrey Stark, the mother, died on the same day as her husband, while Barbrey Stark the daughter was held as a hostage in Kings Landing. Only the actions of Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen’s wife, and Queen Rhaella Targaryen stopped Mad King Aerys from burning the little Stark. The Mad King declared that Barbrey Stark would be wed to Prince Viserys after the Rebellion was crushed. That the North would no longer be ruled by the Starks of Winterfell, but the Targaryens of Winterfell instead.


When Roberts Rebellion turned in favour of the Baratheons, Barbrey’s safety become ever more precarious. Elia Martell had to keep the girl with her at all times, and ended up revealing details of the “abduction” of Lyanna Stark that made their way to the Master of Whispers. So it was that Varys the Spider amended his plans for the children of Rhaegar in the event of Kings Landing being besieged.


The Spider would attempt to obtain the child of Lyanna and Rhaegar, but Ned Stark was too well-prepared, too much on guard, for that. When Ned was reunited with his niece, she told him what she knew and he made her promise to keep it secret. He then raised a much larger force than he might have otherwise done and went in search of his sister in Dorne, the actions of the Lannisters and Robert’s allowance of it too much for him to stomach.


While the Spider couldn’t beat Ned to the Tower of Joy, his birds did arrive in time to stop a battle. Lyanna died in Ned’s arms and he exited the Tower with a newborn girl in his hands, Visenya Targaryen. Varys’ agent told the Kingsguard and Stark Forces of the extraction of Elia Martell and her children and where they had been taken to. The agent wanted to take little Visenya with him, but Ned refused. He gave his word he would protect the babe and he couldn’t do that with her so far from his sight.


The Kingsguard chose to follow the agent to where Elia and the children were, but not before Ser Arthur Dayne revealed why Barbrey Stark, the mother, had been travelling south. During the Tourney at Harrenhall, where Lyanna caught Rhaegar’s eye and Ned first met his betrothed, Brandon Stark and his wife had taken a Dornish woman to their bed. Ashara Dayne. Ned grimaced. His eyes had drifted to the beautiful daughter of House Dayne at the Tourney as well and it was only his betrothal that stopped him from pursuing her.


According to Arthur, the copious amounts of seed Brandon had pumped into the womb of Arthur’s sister had managed to defeat Moon Tea. Ashara had given birth to a daughter. The Sword of Morning handed his family’s blade to Ned and told him to spread word of his death.


Ned was in time to stop Ashara from any drastic actions, and even told House Dayne the truth of Arthur. The Dayne family were hardly pleased with Arthur choosing exile over family, and Ashara’s daughter was unlikely to inherit anything after Robert made Ned Lord Paramount of the North over Brandon’s family. But it was decided that Ashara would go North with her daughter, to raise her child and Barbrey in Winterfell. That it meant someone who was kin to the Sword of Morning would be in close proximity to the Targaryen Princess in hiding was left unsaid.


Catelyn Tully was less than sanguine about Barbrey Stark’s return to the North. As the trueborn daughter of the eldest son of Rickard Stark some would argue Ned should only be named Regent, with Barbrey inheriting Winterfell. She was even less sanguine at the arrival of a woman as beautiful as Ashara Dayne, and the bastard daughter of Brandon, Dyanna Sand, was intolerable from Catelyn’s view as a follower of the Seven.


Ned also bringing his own bastard daughter, Lyarra Snow, was enough to have the daughter of Hoster Tully ready to attack her husband when they were away from prying eyes. The relationship between Lord Stark and his wife would remain distant. He would do away with his plans to build a sept for his lady wife after her sharp tongue struck too many times.


Catelyn would still act as the Lady of Winterfell. She still lay with her husband and gave him children. She started writing more to her old friends. While some of her anger towards her husband subsided, and they did share a great love for their children and did what they could not to argue in front of them, it left her open to the words of those who knew how to speak to her.


Petyr Baelish, forever scarred by is duel with Brandon Stark, rubbed at the injury as he read his letter to Catelyn. Within his new offices in Gulltown, he knew that she would follow his advice, and also knew she would never guess that this act would rid her of Brandon’s bitch daughter Barbrey. While his network of people indebted to him was still small, he had enough to learn of the growing dissent in the Iron Islands and there was one small band of Ironborn who would take his money.




Barbrey Stark struggled in her bonds. The sight garnered many a leering eye from her captors, but were kept from any action by the word of their Captain. He too, was sorely tempted by the sight. Barbrey Stark was not just a maiden in the full bloom of womanhood, she was a young maiden for whom womanhood had hit early and hard. Her lips were full and soft, thick pillows for a man to press his cock into. Her body was shapely and fertile. Wide hips, thick thighs, and large tits that a man could sink his hands and teeth into.


The Captain would have dearly liked to take her as a Salt Wife, but he was also aware of how dangerous being seen in possession of a Stark would be for someone with as little as he. And he knew how very valuable a maiden like Barbrey Stark would be to certain people, especially untouched.


Still… he looked at those inviting dick sucker lips again and the fearful look in her eyes.




Ashara Dayne held her crying daughter close once again. It had been a month since Barbrey had been taken from a port town she had been fostered at. The firstborn daughter of Brandon Stark had not been happy about it. She had inherited her father’s love of riding and had no great desire to sail or live by the sea. All who lived in Winterfell knew that the placement had been the doing of Catelyn Tully. The trout had wanted Brandon’s wild daughter as far from Winterfell as possible, yet nowhere near Moat Cailin.


While Moat Cailin was to be her home when she was going to marry the brother of the Heir to Winterfell, with Ned becoming Lord Paramount to the North Moat Cailin was without a Lord. Catelyn hoped to have a son of hers take such a prestigious castle. It wasn’t known what the gender of the child in her belly at the time was to be, but even were it a daughter there would be yet more. She was still going to be able to bear children for years to come.


She did not care for the idea that Barbrey Stark would have Moat Cailin, nor did she like the idea of Barbrey retaining the name Stark and founding a “Starks of Moat Cailin”.


Dyanna Sand, her violet eyes obscured by her tears and ringed in red, buried her face into her mother. At only eight, she was still too young to understand everything, but in her gut, she knew Lady Catelyn was the cause of Barbrey’s abduction. While her surprise at the news made it seem she was as in the dark as everyone else, the wife of Lord Stark was too happy about it, benefited from it too much, for Dyanna to believe she had nothing to do with it. The young bastard daughter of Brandon Stark had been looking forward to moving to Moat Cailin with her sister. Barbrey was of an age where she could take the castle and have Ashara Dayne, Dyanna’s mother, act as a Regent or Advisor. But Lady Catelyn had pushed for it to be delayed, convinced Lord Stark to send Barbrey to be fostered so she might learn about the running of a castle.


Now she was gone, and Lady Catelyn could claim Moat Cailin for one of her children.


Ashara Dayne as well suspected Lady Catelyn, though she was starting to suspect it was more likely someone seeking to gain the Riverlands woman’s favour than acting on Lady Catelyn’s orders.


The daughter of House Dayne had adapted well to the North she felt, though she did miss wearing looser clothing, and the greater sexual freedom of Dorne. She was secretly proud of how she had managed to watch over Princess Visenya, known to the Seven Kingdoms at large as Lyarra Snow, and had been teaching the girl how to be a proper highborn Lady.


It was also a relief to have Barbrey Stark too. Though she had been young at the time, just a child, she was privy to the true parentage of “Lyarra Snow”, and had promised to take them all with her to Moat Cailin after one of Lady Catelyn’s more aggressive attacks on those Lady Catelyn viewed as squatters in “her” castle.


And now that path was gone. Ashara sighed, her daughter and her Princess had become far more vulnerable with Barbrey’s abduction. It was perhaps time to explore Lord Stark’s affection for her. Ashara did remember that Brandon was not the only Stark whose eyes followed her at the Tourney at Harrenhall.




By the time they reached their destination, the Captain and his crew had made such use of Barbrey’s mouth as to make a mockery of her untouched status. Each man knew the feel of her lips, her tongue, her throat. Each man had heard her beg and plead. Once the Captain had given into his lusts, the daughter of Brandon Stark had not had a drink or meal pass her lips that wasn’t flavoured with a man’s cream.


She was still a virgin, still “untouched”. But over the course of their journey, her captors had trained her to be an eager little sucktoy. It had been a long time since she had showed reluctance, and many had made a game of it, laughing at the she-wolf when they were able to make her crawl after them, panting and drooling at the sight of cock.


She squirmed in her dress. A sheer material with a grey colouration, it was like being naked! But in actual fact it was not the manner of dress that had her squirming, nor her abundant breasts or her crotch being on display. When their destination was in sight, the Captain had given the order and no man had made use of Barbrey’s mouth since. Her only source of the fluid she had been trained into craving was in her meals, and now she had to not only beg for it, but use her hands to elicit it from the men. If she tried to take it from the source, she was beaten and locked in her cell for the whole day without a meal.


It became a new torture for her. Her mouth drooled, her lips quivered, her nostrils flared at the smell of a man’s cock. She felt their warmth in her hands, but she was denied the chance to feel his warmth in her mouth. But at least she could still eat their cum.


They had docked not long after sighting their destination, but kept up this game until a month had passed. Satisfied with their sucktoy’s progress, the Captain knew it was time. Any longer and neither the crew nor himself would be able to restrain themselves any longer.


Their destination was Lys, as their patron had ordered. Their patron had also organised for a meeting with the relevant people to make the deal that would see Barbrey Stark disappear, and the Captain have the funds needed to buy a grander and more lethal vessel.


The Lyseni who bought the daughter of Brandon Stark was not pleased to learn that his new property was not as untouched as had been promised. While none had pierced her womanhood or taken her arse, the hunger for cock and cum in her eyes was far too pronounced for her virginity to be truly marketable.


He was glad that the Captain and his crew would not enjoy their good fortune. The Captain handed over the gold he had been given to a man who took him to a ship that looked glorious, but was in fact a hunting ground. The Captain and crew were quickly killed by local throat-slitters, the ship a form of training ground for them. The gold was returned to the Lyseni pimp, after a small fee for the killing.




After knighting Jorah Mormont, Thoros of Myr, and Jacelyn Bywater right there in Castle Pyke before the kneeling, defeated Balon Greyjoy, King Robert Baratheon let his eyes drift to the end of his mighty warhammer and considered the awe inspired by Thoros’ flaming sword. Just a touch of wildfire and any foe he struck would be crushed and burning. He could almost picture it; Rhaegar the Silver Prince with his chest caved in and green flames bursting from his mouth. Robert shook his head of such things. That way led to Mad Kings and he wouldn’t stand for it. Fucking lizards.


He looked over at his friend, his brother. Ned Stark. The man was a stern one if you didn’t know him. Despite the ice in his veins, the Quiet Wolf loved deeply and truly. It was why Robert knew that regardless of how they argued after the Sack of Kings Landing, they would always come to the others aid.


He could see the pain in his brother’s eyes. This fucking rebellion of Balon’s had cost Ned a niece. He’d met the girl a time or two and the girl had the look of her father back then. From what he’d heard she had been growing into a rare beauty.


Now she was dead or worse and none they had captured had a word as to which it was.


A thought to have the boy Theon, Balon’s last living son, held as hostage and ward at Winterfell was quickly thrown out by the King. The girls though. He looked at them. Twin girls, Asha and Yara Greyjoy. He decided; the boy Theon would be sent to Casterly Rock as Tywin’s ward, that Tywin might see that the Heir of Pyke never think to lead the Ironborn in a plot to despoil the Westerlands again.


Yara Greyjoy, as the fairest of the twins, would be fostered at Winterfell, to appease the Lord of Winterfell who had lost his niece.


Asha as Balon’s youngest, and a girl, would be sent to Ten Towers as the ward of Lord Rodrik Harlaw, the one Ironborn who argued against the Rebellion. It was known that Rodrik had lost his sons to Rebellion and so being given an heir was both a blessing from the King, yet also a punishment since she was a girl.


Robert saw a flicker of warmth in Ned’s eye at this, this show of restraint. Robert knew he had acted beyond what Ned’s honour would allow back in Kings Landing, back during the Sack. Fuck, he hated the goldshitting bastard that was the Old Lion of Casterly Rock. But he knew he couldn’t afford to insult Tywin, the bastard’s forces held the city.


He eyed the flagon of mead passed to him. It felt good to fight again, to hold his warhammer and kill a murdering, raping, bastard. Better than sitting on that fucking chair. Maybe he should take Balon’s Seastone Throne with him. It looked more comfy than the ugly, melted, mass of swords that passed for a seat of power.


Once more he thought about his options. The Greyjoy Rebellion aside, he had been drinking and whoring the Seven Kingdoms into ruin. He didn’t want to rule them; he wanted to die watching everything the fucking dragons built collapsing. With how self-sufficient the North was, nothing Robert did would hurt them.


Or he could do this. Fight. He hated Kingship. But leading an army, being the General on a campaign? That was something he could do. He’d led a Rebellion hadn’t he? Won it too. He could find more fights, more bastards to kill. He could hunt pirates and bandits, lead the Kingsguard on a tour of the Seven Kingdoms killing anything foul he came across.


But every time he saw the blonde cunt that was his wife, every time she whispered in his ear about her father, every time he saw the fucking Kingslayer, every time he saw that smug smile of the Young Lion, his misery grew, his hatred grew, and he would just grab another flagon and drink.


Lyanna… that night on the ship to Lannisport, Robert dreamed of Lyanna.




In the luxurious manse of the wealthy Tregar Ormollen, his beautiful chief concubine awaited her nameday gift. A Merchant Prince of Lys, he already had a wife and several concubines, and Lys was where lovemaking was an art. Yet somehow, it was a Reachwoman who had become his chief concubine. Somehow, a woman from the “home of chivalry” was the one to intimidate his wife and take command of his other concubines in one evening.


With golden hair, skin the colour of cream, and the soft hands of a woman who had never worked a day in her life, Lynesse Hightower was a woman who had crushed hearts and sunk the House of Mormont to a low that took them years to recover from. Not that she cared.


She looked over her Prince’s gift. A whore. A pretty whore with sun-kissed skin and thick, dark brown hair, almost black, that fell down in ringlets down to her knees like a natural cape. She was taller than Tregar by at least a head with a beautifully buxom figure and full lips. Her grey eyes were like a winter storm. Her breasts were heavy things, far larger than Lynesse’s or any woman she’d encountered, with huge dark pink nipples that looked as though they ached for someone to bite.


In short, she looked like a Northerner from Westeros and Lynesse Hightower had developed a taste for punishing Northerners that her Prince was willing to finance.


For the day, “Barb” was Lynesse’s to play with. When the Prince came home from his mercantile pursuits, she would showcase all the “tricks” she had trained the barbaric Northerner to perform.




The next change in Barbrey Stark’s life came when she was hired to make a man out of a Khalakka. Khal Jagga led a Khalasar thirty thousand strong, one of the largest in Essos. His son Mikk had spoken words of not wanting a weak woman to mark the day he became a man and as he was in a kinder mood when this was said, Jagga humoured him.


Jagga felt jealousy in his heart when he saw his son rutting with the whore. She was taller than almost half of his Kos, and he could tell she was as strong in body as she was lustful.


Khalakka Mikk enjoyed Barb for many days, almost exclusively in public. She was insatiable and fervent in her affections. Mikk gained new interest in her when one day he found her treating an injury done to his horse that he had missed. Discovering her love of horses and extensive knowledge of rearing them led Mikk to view her as a gift from the Horse God and chose to keep her past the time allotted.


Jagga grew incensed. It had been his intention to take the whore Barb as his after his son returned her to the Lyseni pillow house he had taken her from. Instead she was kept. He had to send a new gift to Barb’s pimp and then watched as the whore learned their tongue, learned their ways.


There was nothing stopping him from bending the whore over and taking her save pride. He refused to let his son know that he had something that the Khal coveted. On the day she came to him, he offered praise to the Horse God, for she did not desire to be the bride of Mikk. Nor did she really desire to be the Khaleesi of Jagga. She did however desire Jagga’s cock.


Mikk was angered by this and raised arms against his father, only for it to be Barb who struck him down. She was not his and never agreed to be. She took every Kos of Khal Jagga’s Khalasar to prove that she was property of neither man. After that she became Ko Barb and tied her long hair in a braid. The alluring sight of Ko Barb inspired the lusts of Khal Jagga’s whole Khalasar and they went on to their next raids with more fervour than had been seen since before Khalakka Mikk’s birth.


Bells soon adorned Ko Barb’s hair, many victories and not once was she unhorsed. After the battles she tended any horse that was injured and it was as though she were blessed by the Horse God as it soon became the case that there was no horsemeat to eat as all their horses were hale and hearty and stronger and faster than any other.


The period of victory could not last when one such as Khal Drogo moved across the Dothraki Sea. Khal Jagga and Khalakka Mikka perished and the Khalasar of thirty thousand came apart, some of the Kos riding out to join Drogo.


Ko Barb did not, for she felt angry at Drogo, and at Jagga and Mikk. The father and son had settled their feud over her in time but it had not ended the bad blood. Mikk plotted against his father and the Khal plotted back. In this their efforts to see the other die had led to them both dying. The only one to know this was Barbrey Stark, as they had both taken her into their confidence on the matter.


The Northerner turned Dothraki decided to strike out on her own. Khal Barb, for she was no bride but a leader, took command of six thousand and raided Lys. The celebratory fuckfest after stealing every whore from every pleasure house in Lys ended up killing half her Khalasar, but none cared.


Word spread of “the Whore who rides the World”, a female Khal who rides any man who pledges their sword and their horse to her. Not entirely untrue, it did bring a few new faces to her service. During a journey to Eastern Essos to acquire some zorses, Khal Barb ran into the Company of the Rose, a mercenary group made up of the sons and daughters of Northern Houses who chose exile in Essos over a Dragon King. Three hundred years later and many still had the look of their House about them. Some were even of Houses that no longer existed in the North.


The familiar faces awoke a homesickness within Khal Barb, so much so that Barbrey Stark realised she had to go home. It was hardly a Dothraki thing, to step down rather than die in battle. But the Khalasar of the Whore who rides the World was far looser, far more accepting, than other Khalasars might have been. There were even a few members of the Company of the Rose who found the life of a Dothraki appealing while others shared a desire to return to the North and saw in Barbrey Stark a chance to do so. By pledging to her and serving her, they would be allowed to leave the Company.


So it was that a force of one thousand under Barbrey Stark went to Qarth and booked passage to Westeros. After a visit to the sumptuous Summer Islands, Barbrey’s hunger for sex driving her to sample the so-called Holy Skills of Lovemaking taught there.


It was a long and costly journey, especially with the extra cost of transporting the horses and zorses that Barbrey was insistent on bringing back to Westeros. Thankfully, the Company of the Rose had deep pockets, her Khalasar had been quite good at looting, and her own skills in the bedroom were enough to appease the Captains.




The first word of Barbrey Stark being alive and well were uttered in Kings Landing. After making port and offloading their cargo, they had made for accommodations whereupon they heard that a Tourney was being held. Deciding it would be a good source of money and a chance to shake off the months of travel at sea, many entered.


The attendees were astonished by the sheer number of Northerners taking part. It was a Tourney that wasn’t restricted to knighted individuals, though many imagined it would be the Knights of the Reach who would claim the prizes. Of most note was one who gave no name but bore a coat of arms that had the horse of House Ryswell but the colouring of House Stark. That the rider was riding a mean-tempered zorse and also carried an arakh was also noteworthy. Whoever this rider was, they were talented. Everyone they jousted against was unhorsed.


The mystery rider was presented with the wreath of flowers, that they might crown their Queen of Love and Beauty. The muttering of the crowd grew louder when the rider made for the stands where the Royal Family were watching. The muttering became louder still when the rider threw the crown atop King Robert’s brow and then became deafening when the rider removed their helmet and revealed themself to be a grey-eyed woman.


“Stark?” Robert asked in wonder.


“Aye my King, ‘tis Barbrey Stark, formerly Khal Barb, who crowns you as her Queen of Love an’ Beauty. Do you mind letting my Uncle know I’m not dead?”


King Robert clambered down to greet the lost Stark with open arms and a feast was held in her honour. More than a few of the knights she unhorsed came to see to the matter of the armour and horses she won from them, only to be rebuffed by King Robert, who hungrily ate up the stories of her time in Essos.


Deeper into their drinks, the two had embarrassingly tried to molest the same maid and Robert laughed it off, while Barbrey took it further by offering to take the maid’s place since the poor thing had been scared off by all the attention. Robert’s eyes widened and he very nearly took her in his arms right then. But his Queen was there, they were in Kings Landing, and the delicious-looking whore was his brother Ned’s niece.


Barbrey pouted, but let it go at that.




Elsewhere in Kings Landing, Petyr Baelish was particularly ruthless towards a whore he owned who had tried to cheat him. He did not enjoy it when his schemes failed, and Barbrey Stark walking the halls of the Red Keep was in his mind a failure.


What had happened? His factors in the Iron Islands had pulled off the abduction without a hitch, and his factors in Essos had killed of his Ironborn factors before they could ever get chatty and let slip who had directed them.


By the Seven, he’d sent some of his factors out to Lys and they’d sampled the fucking whore! And all came back saying there was nothing left of the barbaric Northerner, just an eager cockslut.


So why in the Seven Hells was she here?! Not only here, but with a force a thousand strong and personally unhorsing knights?!


If Littlefinger thought Barbrey’s arrival was stressful enough, he would soon view that time as a delightful experience when the full aftermath of Barbrey’s first meeting with Lord Renly was laid out before him.




Her Lord Husband had returned from doing his duty, so Lady Catelyn knew precisely where to find him. In the Godswood, cleaning and sharpening the Valyrian Steel sword of the Stark Family. She was still furious with him for taking her little Bran to an execution, the Stranger damn her Lord Husband’s insistence on teaching her children such a barbaric form of justice. But she would not be able to have that discussion with him. Nor would she be able to tear him to shreds for allowing her children to adopt Direwolf pups! Direwolves!! She would have dearly loved to burn the letter in her hand and pretend it had never been received, but it was not to be.


There was no way to ignore it. The subject of the letter would be arriving soon enough.


For years, Lady Catelyn had seen the Dornishwoman Ashara Dayne speaking up less in Winterfell, watched Ashara’s bastard Dyanna grow quieter, watched her Lord Husband’s bastard Lyarra become more timid. She had felt victorious. She’d watched her eldest daughter Sansa spurn the attention of her bastard cousin and her bastard sister, and felt righteous.


Her son Bran would be the one to sit on the Lord’s Chair of Moat Cailin, despite his current dreams of being a Knight in the south. He could squire in the south and return to take his castle as a proper man of the Seven. Not anymore if her Lord Husband had anything to say about it.


Her Lord Husband was where she expected. He was just finishing up, using a cloth to finish wiping down the blade of Ice when she entered the clearing. Her eyes kept on him, pointedly refusing to look upon the Heart Tree. The disorganised religion of the North was not something she had taken to. She hated that her husband had insisted that both the Old and New Gods were to be taught to her children, hated that the only true follower of the Seven among them was Sansa.


Robb and Bran knew their verses, and would ride out to the nearest Sept with her when they could. Rickon also, though as barely out of babyhood, Catelyn took him everywhere she went when she could.


Arya though… the more time passed, the wilder her daughter seemed to become and the more she seemed to turn her nose at her Southron heritage. She couldn’t get her Lord Husband to do anything about it; he just looked at Arya, looked out at nothing and spoke of Lyanna, his sister.


While Lady Catelyn informed her Lord Husband of the survival of his beloved niece, those the daughter of House Tully looked down on were afoot. Lady Ashara Dayne had argued less publically with Lady Catelyn, but had been quite vocal when the Tully woman wasn’t around. Her attempts to seduce Lord Stark had not succeeded, the man was too noble and he kept his oaths.


It was something Ashara felt much guilt over, as one of her schemes against Lady Catelyn would also affect Lord Stark. One of the whores in Winter Town, Ros, had a very Tully colouring to her and after some subtle queries, Ashara had met with the whore’s mother. Roslyn was a somewhat retired whore. She had enough money to live in her own home and produced fine embroidery and tapestries, with the odd burst of gold from her more select clients.


Ashara had been astonished that a woman who had never been south could look so eerily similar to Lady Catelyn. But it mattered not. Ashara met with Roslyn and arranged a long-term job. Roslyn would be entertaining more men than she had in many years, but it would be the daughter of House Dayne paying her, not the men.


The men would be led to believe that a highborn Lady who wanted to keep her identity secret was cheating on her Lord Husband. Masks and blindfolds were used, but each and every man saw enough, as was Ashara’s intention, to suspect they were in bed with Lady Catelyn.


More than a few Lords and people in the North felt Lord Hoster had forced the marriage of Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn. Some knew that the changes wrought in the North were because the late Lord Rickard’s original plan to marry the Houses was scuppered by the late Lord Brandon. That Lord Hoster had held his forces back and refused to join the Rebellion until Lord Stark married Lady Catelyn did not sit well with the Northerners.


The Sept that Lady Catelyn had had erected a day’s ride from Winterfell was also an issue. While the North practised religious freedom, they were largely worshippers of the Old Gods and followers of the Seven had almost to a man, or woman, spoken with sneering contempt of the dominant faith in the North. Lady Catelyn was no exception.


Lady Catelyn did not have friends in the North, and it was Ashara’s intent to sow discord at Lady Catelyn’s expense.


This was not the only avenue taken of course. Dyanna Sand and Lyarra Snow had become talented embroiderers, painters, musicians, and dressmakers. Gifts of Ladies Snow and Sand had become unofficial badges of honour in Winterfell and Winter Town, rewards for acts above the call of duty. Even a few other households of the North had been the recipients of such. Though Lady Catelyn had gotten Sansa to spurn her bastard relatives, she was unaware that Sansa chafed under this, as she knew of the talents Lyarra and Dyanna had in the womanly arts and was envious of their clear and obvious skill.


The households outside of Stark lands were chosen by their later ally, the Greyjoy hostage. The younger of Balon’s twin daughters, Yara had been a studious Ironborn and had learned all the houses and lands worth striking in the North. And had been more than willing to put her knowledge at the disposal of Ashara. Ashara smirked. Though Lord Stark had proven resistant to her charms, the Ironborn girl had shown a weakness for exotic women and there were few more exotic than the Stony Dornishwoman.


It had been too long since Ashara Dayne had had sex and Yara Greyjoy was a nice enough bed companion.


Yara Greyoy had, after a year at Winterfell and most of that writhing under Ashara’s skilled hands, been brought into the secret of Lyarra Snow. Lord Stark did not know this, and she was to keep it that way until told otherwise. Learning that the Targaryen Royal Family was so intact and that the event that ignited the Rebellion was false… Yara still pondered it years later.


In the end though, she was theirs. As the youngest daughter of Balon Greyjoy, and with her younger brother still alive, she was unlikely to inherit anything. And being raised in the North, admittedly she was arguably too old to be a real fosterling, she would be seen as too tainted by Greenlander thinking to be a proper Rock Wife. A Rock Wife was the true wife of an Ironborn, her children would be the ones to inherit from their father. A Salt Wife was just a kept whore.


But a Rock Wife was also an Ironborn woman, a woman born and raised Ironborn. Her time in Winterfell would make her hand a much weaker offering. But if she were the chief ally of the Targaryens… then on their return she would be the one Ironborn most likely to ascend. It would be through her that her people would work to ingratiate themselves.




After the feast in her honour, Barbrey found temporary accommodation in Kings Landing while she organised herself and her resources and made plans of her return trip. It was during that time that Barbrey’s appetites started to become known. In short order she had visited every brothel Kings Landing had and sampled many of the whores. Male and female. She had even managed to seduce not only the daughter of the Innkeeper whose Inn she had moved into, but also the wife, the son, and the Innkeeper himself.


All this was controversial enough, a Northerner who was as big a whoremonger as the King? And a woman no less? But it would become an altogether more public affair when after an epic tavern crawl, a very drunk Barbrey Stark made a pass at a pretty boy. He smelled of roses and the arse she gripped felt like it would be tight.


As it turned out the pretty boy had already been claimed. The man had the look of a Stormlander about him and Barbrey gave his cock a squeeze over his trousers. When the Stormlander saw fit to strike her, she had punched him hard enough to throw him across the room and into a group of Westerlanders.


The barfight exploded into the nearby buildings and into the streets, colliding with a Goldcloak patrol. Once swords were drawn, the only things that stopped it turning into a bloodbath was how drunk the Northerners, the Stormlanders, and the Westerlanders were, and the incompetence of the Goldcloaks. Horses were mounted and ridden roughshod over multiple places of business. Including, to Barbrey’s later despair, several brothels.


The morning after was painful, the light of the day and the sounds were too much. Then she was arrested and brought before the King. In her haste to be dressed for court, Barbrey had ended up standing before the King of Westeros in a gown she had bought in Qarth. What none in the Seven Kingdoms knew was that in Qarth, it was fashionable for a woman to leave one breast bare.


And what a breast it was. None who had an interest in the feminine form could take their eye from it for long, which made it so Barbrey could give a full account of the night before without interruption, though few could recollect what she said.


It turned out she had accosted Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden and the Stormlander she had rubbed the cock of was revealed to be Lord Renly Baratheon, defending the honour of his former squire. Thankfully the King was willing to call the whole thing a drunken misadventure since nobody had been seriously injured.


It did mean that Barbrey needed to get out of Kings Landing more quickly, to her and Robert’s dismay.


But as she left, she looked at her hand and remembered the feel of Ser Loras’ tight arse. And he looked so delicate too. Hmmm… yes she would need to revisit that.




Varys, Master of Whispers, fumed at being denied an audience with Lady Barbrey Stark. Oh, she had not spurned him, no. Events had conspired against them and by the time their schedules were compatible, she was needing to quickly flee Kings Landing after a most violent barfight.


The girl was one of the few to know of the true events at Kings Landing at the end of the Rebellion and she had been absent from the Game of Thrones for close to a decade. He desperately wanted to know the full details of what had happened, so that it could be analysed and evaluated for future decisions regarding the Game.




The King of the Seven Kingdoms entered the training halls of the Red Keep for the first time in years. Recently he had felt more fired up than he had in a long time, and his hands itched to lift his warhammer again. For the rest of the day, servants heard the wheezing of a man out of shape striving to do things he had not done in years.


With the sunset, Robert bathed, drank and ate. He then called for some pretty maids. They were new ones, their cunts tight and their mouths eager. But each time he flooded their wombs or painted their faces with his thick cum, the image of a tall, buxom Northerner in a dress that bared one fat tit filled his mind.


It had been a long time since he’d felt something pull at him. He wanted her. Wanted to feel her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, her cunt wrapped around his cock. He wanted to fuck her ragged, he wanted to fill her up and see her swell with a litter of pups.


Fuck! He flipped one of the maids up into the air and positioned her so the one he was fucking could lick the other’s cunt. Raaargh! He painted them with his seed but didn’t feel himself flagging. Was the energy in him from training again or from her?




Petyr Baelish screamed. Gone! Ruined! Fucking Brandon Stark! Fucking Wild Wolf! Fucking Barbrey Stark! Fucking Wild Fucking She-Wolf! With her little riot across Kings Landing, she had managed to destroy all but one of his brothels! And the whores of his one standing brothel had all fled to other pimps, but not before robbing him of the gold he had stashed there. His secret caches of gold in Flea Bottom had been ransacked after the chase on horseback had knocked the hovels they were stored in over.


He had lost very nearly everything! His plans! His schemes! With this, Barbrey Stark had set him back years! Years!


“You’ll pay Barbrey Stark, oh how you will pay”, he promised, rubbing the scar that went from navel to collarbone, the feeling of the strike shivering through him again.




With his fiery red beard, Edmure Tully was a handsome man. He was also quite heavily into his drinks after having punched out five bards who were in the tavern when he arrived. He had been sent there by his eldest sister Catelyn to join with the Stark host making its way North from Kings Landing. That was what he was to say anyway.


What his sister wanted was for him to find out more about the long lost Stark who would be ousting Edmure’s nephew Bran from his inheriting Moat Cailin.


With his Tully blue eyes he was catching the attention of many attractive wenches, but his eyes quickly became blind to all except one. She was tanned from years under the sun, and when she moved, he saw a decided lack of tanline that had him wondering just how much of her body had been so generously kissed by the sun. Her hair was the darkest brown he’d ever seen, almost black, and it fell in ringlets down to just above her knees when she stood. The tinkle of bells came from her hair whenever she moved.


She was taller than him, which meant if he didn’t look up when they were stood face to face, his eyes were directly in line with the biggest tits he’d ever seen.


Her grey eyes were a winter storm and her full, pouty lips were smiling in gleeful satisfaction as he let himself be led by her to her room for the night.


With any other woman, the amount he’d drunk might well have affected his ability to perform. Something a bastard bard named Tom of Sevenstreams had put to song once. But this woman, this delicious whore of a woman, she knew where to touch and kiss to renew the ardour of the dead! He had never risen more times, he’d never felt a woman clench and tighten so tightly as this woman.


It was like he lost all will of his own, she took him with her and never told him her name. They would ride all day, go hunting and/or fishing. They would make camp and drink and eat and fuck.


Truly, not even the legendarily beautiful Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne, could have been more overwhelmingly seductive. Until one day;


“Brother! When did you become so familiar with my niece?!” Was the rather shrill question when they arrived in Winterfell.




Yara had left the welcoming feast early. After all, she had been sent to Winterfell because of the Ironborn stealing Barbrey Stark away. Too much had been happening on Barbrey’s arrival, and the arrival of many Essosi raised men and women of Northern descent, for the two to exchange more than bare words of greeting.


Thankfully, she was not alone with her thoughts for long. Her Lady had come to “tuck her in”. Truly, Lady Ashara Dayne of Dorne was the reason Yara stayed sane.


The youngest daughter of Balon Greyjoy arrived in Winterfell and entered a very unstable situation. Lady Catelyn, Lord Stark’s wife, seemed to range from enjoying her company because of the Ironborn stealing Barbrey Stark, to hating her for being of Ironborn stock. It made sense really, she was a Riverlander after all and the Riverlands was by far the most inconsistent of all the Kingdoms of Westeros.


The rest of the Stark family… as far as the older ones were concerned, she may as well have given the order to steal Barbrey Stark herself. The younger Starks, whose memories of the Wild She-Wolf were fewer, were pulled away by their elders.


For a brief time, there seemed to be something between herself and Lord Stark’s firstborn son, Robb. He was quite friendly, and she was a new face. But he started expecting things of her. She had learned some swordplay and archery, but they weren’t her passions. Asha was the one who played at being a Reaver when they were children. Perhaps if Theon had been the one sent to Winterfell, he might have been Robb’s friend. Or if it had been Asha instead of her, then the more sister who had honed her skills would be a person young Robb could look up to. But Yara was not them and she soon enough realised that Robb was trying to fit her into the mould of the lost Barbrey. Trying to have the Ironborn hostage act in the manner of Robb’s lost cousin.


Ashara Dayne did not see Yara as responsible for Barbrey, nor did she see Yara as a replacement for Barbrey. For a time, Yara fell into a depression thinking the Dornishwoman just wanted a convenient and pliant bedwarmer, but in a moment of introspection she realised there was more going on.


Ashara asked too many questions about the Iron Islands. Was too interested in the interrelationships of the islands, their Lords, and their vassals. Asha and Yara had both been clever for their age, with Asha favouring the study of battles and logistics, while Yara read about trade and politics.


When Yara finally confronted Ashara about it, reluctantly since she had come to depend on Ashara’s touch, the daughter of House Dayne revealed more than the Ironborn girl had thought possible. Yara was quickly a conspirator, part of a plot to return the Dragons to the Iron Throne.


Plans were made and scrapped and re-examined. At one time there was a plan to have her seduce Edmure Tully and bring about the transform the Riverlands and the Iron Islands back into House Hoare’s Kingdom of the Isles and Rivers. Creating a stronger Kingdom with the resources needed to build a stronger fleet, and then orders from the Restored Targaryen Dynasty to reave all but Westeros. The reason for the distaste the rest of the Seven Kingdoms had for the Ironborn was because the Reavers of the Islands also pillaged them.


There was a saying; don’t shit where you eat. One could not expect to be welcomed into ports that one had burned and pillaged in the past and may intend to do so in future.


She groaned in her bed as Ashara lay tender kisses up her bare back. She rolled over to look up at the older woman, letting her large breasts jiggle from the movement. In the past, Ashara would stare at them and play with them, Yara became worried at the far off look in her lover’s eyes.


“My Lady?” she asked, worry and nerves in her voice.


“I-it is nothing Ironling. Or…” she put a hand on one bare Greyjoy breast, squeezing and tweaking the hardened nipple between her fingers, “… there is something on my mind, but not something I will discuss just yet. I’ve had… thoughts on our little project.” Thoughts? Thoughts sounded like a very… political way of saying she was having doubts of their plans to overthrow the Usurper. “While I was willing to let the matter go… certain events could change that.” The only events in recent memory that stood out… was Barbrey’s return.


“Does… does the return of Brandon Stark’s trueborn daughter really alter the Game so much?” She hissed at the much harder pinch of her nipple.


“That… and the arrival of a small army of experienced warriors loyal to her… and what she and I discussed at the feast. I will say no more on the matter tonight. I have… other things in mind for the time being.” With that, she pounced on the daughter of Balon and they remained entwined in their passionate embrace for the rest of the night.


If Yara’s paranoia over her place in Ashara’s affections and whatever the Dornishwoman was thinking were not distracting her, if Ashara herself was not also experiencing a mental crisis herself… the two women might have noticed that the door to the room was slightly ajar, and that two faces were pressed against the opening, watching them.


End Chapter 01


Author note(s) – If you’re wondering about how some of the events are lining up here we go;

  • I am somewhat blending the TV and Book versions, with some changes (like Jon now being Lyarra)
  • Barbrey’s arrival has delayed certain canon events. With Petyr losing so many of his resources in the “Riot of the She-Wolf”, he has to rebuild before he can set events in motion. Meaning that Barbrey rioting in Kings Landing has replaced the Death of Jon Arryn, and Barbrey’s arrival at Winterfell replaces the arrival of the King in the canon.
  • It will be two years before the Death of Jon Arryn, two years before Robert will meet Barbrey again. Barbrey won’t be staying in the North all that time, I have plans for her to visit the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Reach.
  • Daenerys’ story has also been put on hold. Yes, Viserys and Dany meeting Illyrio can’t have been undone by Khal Barb and her Khalasar, but the Khalasar she left behind? Bolstered by her reputation and the Company of the Rose? Khal Drogo wants to crush it to prove his supremacy, and Varys will want to put things on hold until he can figure out where Barbrey Stark the former Dothraki Khal lands on things.

Next time we will see Barbrey’s return from her perspective and learn what she has told Ashara Dayne to make her doubt a return of the Dragons.

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