Seeing Ghosts (Patreon)
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“I miss them already,” Sansa said despondently as Ned, Robb, and their party disappeared beyond the horizon.
“Your father and brother will be back within a moon’s turn, Sansa,” Catelyn said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around the girl.
Her eldest daughter looked so much like her, it was startling. She had the same auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and the same nose and lips. Her cheeks were round and soft, though it was the softness of youth rather than the predisposition to chubbiness that Lysa had shown even at that age. Between her similar looks and gentle demeanor, Sansa was the sort of daughter that any woman would be proud of, and Catelyn wished that she hadn’t spent so many years wishing that she and most of the rest of her children looked more like their father.
“Why did they have to leave?” Bran asked.
“Your father is the Lord of Winterfell, my sweet boy, and he is also the Lord Paramount of the North,” Catelyn said. “That means that occasionally he must venture out to other holdfasts for the same reason that we occasionally host other lords. White Harbor is one of the most important places in the North, and your father has gone to see the Manderlys.”
“Why couldn’t we go?” Arya asked, crossing her arms. “It could have been fun to see the ships and the sea.”
“Bringing all of us would have been excessive,” Catelyn said. “Robb is the heir of the Winterfell, and his presence was a good idea, but anyone else could have been distracting.”
She had her own reasons for pushing for Robb to go with Ned on this little trip. The Manderlys were the only family in the North who followed the Faith of the Seven, having fled to the North from their ancestral lands near the Mander in the Reach after ending up at odds with some of the other lords there. If there was one family in the entire North that she’d like to see her eldest look to for potential wives, it was them, and they had two apparently lovely daughters around Robb’s age.
“Well, it’s going to be fucking boring without them,” Arya huffed.
“Arya!” Catelyn snapped. “That language is unbecoming of a lady.”
Her most difficult child muttered something under her breath that sounded like “I don’t want to be a lady,” but didn’t say anything else. Catelyn sighed and turned to face her children more directly.
“Now you all have lessons to get to, so off you go,” she said.
There were some grumbles at that, but they obeyed, even Arya, and Catelyn was left on her own. It was still summer, and the weather was as good as it ever got in the frozen lands that had been her home for the better part of two decades, so she decided to take a walk around the grounds of the keep.
Moving to Winterfell had been difficult for a number of reasons. Like any girl who’d just been wed, there was the melancholy that came with leaving the only home you’d ever known and venturing to unknown lands, but there had been specific issues that made her own transition particularly difficult. That she was wed and shipped off during a war after her original betrothed had been murdered was harrowing in itself, but the North and Winterfell were so utterly different than what she was used to that it had taken her ages to get used to it. The cold, funny enough, was easier to adjust to than the sheer scope of the massive castle, and it had taken her an embarrassingly long time to stop getting lost.
As she wandered, secure in the comforting presence of the many guards stationed around, she soon began hearing the clanging of steel on steel as she approached the training yard. It wasn’t a particularly ladylike pass time, but she enjoyed watching men spar from time to time. There was such surprising skill involved in what she assumed as a young girl was just brutish violence, and when two skilled warriors fought, it could almost seem like a dangerous sort of dance. Her hopes of enjoying herself were soon dashed as she realized who exactly was sparring.
“Keep your guard up!” Ser Rodrik snarled at the man who was clearly losing the fight.
A moment later, the man, whose opponent dwarfed him utterly, was knocked on his back and had a training sword pressed at his throat.
“I yield!” he exclaimed, letting go of his own blade.
“Fucking hells, is there no one here who can best him?” Rodrik sighed. “He’s not even using his right arm!”
“Tis a testament to your teachings, ser,” the large man said, taking off his helmet and grinning at the master-at-arms.
“Oh, fuck off, Snow!” Rodrik chuckled. He spotted her just then and said, “er, apologies for the language, my lady.”
Jon turned to look at her, his long brown hair so much like his father’s plastered to his forehead and neck by sweat.
“I am well aware, Ser Rodrik, that the language men use in the training yard differs from what they use in a sept,” Catelyn remarked. Not that a single man present had ever stepped foot in a sept. “At any rate, I was just passing through. Good day to you.”
“Good day, my lady,” Ser Rodrik said, echoed by most of the men there.
Jon said nothing, just looking away, and in truth, she was glad. He was the reason that she’d been unable to enjoy the fact that so many of her children looked like her, with his brown Stark hair and his gray Stark eyes. As a boy, he’d looked so much like his father that Catelyn had been driven to rage at the sight of him. These days, though, she actually found herself wishing that he looked more like Ned, even with the insult to her that he represented. His long face was like Ned’s, as was his straight nose, but those sharp cheek bones and square jaw reminded her of a different Stark, and it was starting to bother her greatly.
“Do you think he’ll be handsome?” Lysa asked, sounding excited.
“I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t smell terrible,” Petyr commented, his voice squeaking. “Everything that I’ve ever heard of the Northmen has painted them as uncultured savages.”
“I...I hope he isn’t that bad,” Lysa said.
Catelyn took a deep, slow breath and let it out as quietly as she could, trying to ignore both her sister and her friend. She had to admit that she had been shocked when her father told her that her future husband was the heir of Winterfell. She might not have the poor opinion of the North that Petyr claimed to, though she suspected that opinion had more to do with the boy’s unsubtle crush on her than anything else, but it was still odd. The people of the North did not follow the true gods, preferring to worship trees, and her septas had always claimed that they were terrible heathens. She was a Tully, though, her father’s eldest living child, and she would keep to the words of her house, no matter her misgivings.
“Catelyn,” her father called. “The Stark party will arrive at any moment. Come greet them with me.”
“Yes, Father,” Catelyn said, dutifully following him to the heavy redwood doors of the Riverrun gatehouse.
They were opened a few minutes later, and a host of men on horseback rode in, led by a large man sitting astride a heavy charger. He was armored, as were they all, but by his wolf-like helmet and the fine quality of his armor, she figured this one was her intended. He dismounted a moment later, and when he removed his helmet, her breath hitched.
“Lord Brandon,” Hoster said in greeting, “welcome to Riverrun.”
“Lord Tully,” Brandon said, his deep and rumbling voice making Catelyn quiver in her blue woolen dress.
Catelyn doubted that Lysa would complain about his looks, for he had to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, framing his long, chiseled face. His armor looked bulky, but given that none of the other men with him looked like that, she had to assume it was just his strong, warrior’s build. His nose was long and straight, his cheekbones were sharp and prominent, and his lips were edged upward as he gave them all a confident smile. He seemed to radiate an easy confidence that she found immediately captivating. His most startling feature was his eyes, as the gray orbs seemed to show a sort of wildness and, as they turned to her, something that she could not place but instantly liked.
“Catelyn!” Hoster hissed, breaking her out of her reverie.
“I’m sorry?” Catelyn asked, turning red as she realized that she’d not heard a word either of them had said since Brandon addressed her father.
“As I was saying, this is my daughter, Catelyn,” Hoster said, sounding mildly annoyed.
“Good day, my lord,” Catelyn said, bending her knees and bowing her head. “I hope your journey was pleasant.”
“Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have minded,” Brandon said smoothly, walking forward and taking her hand. As he kissed her knuckles, he quietly added, “how could I mind when that journey brought me to meet a creature as lovely as you?”
Catelyn swore she felt her heart jump in her chest, and she flushed as red as her hair as he gave her a momentary wolfish grin.
“Gods, his jaw looks like it was cut from stone,” she thought to herself as he pulled back and turned to her father.
He was a good deal taller than Hoster as well, meaning that he towered over her, something that she found she liked quite a bit.
“You must be tired from your long journey,” Hoster said, seemingly oblivious to the moment that the two of them had just shared. “My men will take your horses to the stables and show you to the guest quarters. On the morrow, we shall have a hunt so I can show you more of the Riverlands.”
“That sounds splendid,” Brandon said.
As the Northerners were led away, Hoster turned to her and hissed, “recollect yourself, Catelyn! You’d think that you had never seen a man before.”
“Not like him, I haven’t,” Catelyn thought to herself, stealing one last glance at her intended.
Catelyn shivered at the memory as she walked towards her chambers. Her father had hosted Brandon for a fortnight, during which the terms of the betrothal were finished. It had mostly been dealt with already by raven between the two ruling lords, and Lord Rickon had trusted his son to take care of the finer details in person. By the end of those two weeks, she had been utterly besotted with him. Of course, the gods turned out to have other plans, as the cruelty of a prince and the madness of a king cut everything short. She and Brandon had begun writing to each other after he departed from Riverrun and had grown rather close by the end. The news of his death had devastated her.
She sat down on her bed and started mindlessly brushing her long, red hair as she lost herself in her memories.
“It was just so utterly needless,” Catelyn grumbled to herself.
The loss of Brandon had been difficult, and being suddenly pushed to wed his brother, whom she hadn’t even met yet, was harder. She had done her duty, though, and even though he returned from the war with a little crying insult, the two of them had managed to build a loving marriage. The only real point of contention that there had ever been between them was Jon Snow.
“Gods, if he could just be sent to the Wall,” Catelyn thought.
He had no intention of going willingly, however, and Ned wasn’t going to force him. Worse still, her children all adored him, save for the ever-dutiful Sansa, who had heeded her warnings about keeping one’s distance from bastards. Ned wouldn’t send him away, and Robb wanted to keep him around, so she was likely to be stuck with him for years to come.
She had always hated him, at first for being a constant reminder of her husband’s betrayal and then for looking so much more like Ned than Robb or Sansa. More recently, the source of her vexation toward him was quite different, though still linked to his looks. She still remembered the time she’d tried to ask Ned about it.
“Ned,” Catelyn said, entering his study.
“Catelyn,” Ned said, smiling warmly up at her from his seat. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s about Snow,” Catelyn said.
“Has he done something?” Ned asked, instantly wary.
“No,” Catelyn replied. “It’s...I’m not really sure how to ask this.”
“Go on,” Ned said encouragingly.
“I’m...that is...is he truly yours?” Catelyn finally found the courage to ask.
“What?” Ned asked, going pale as a sheet. In an instant, he was on his feet, his hands slamming into the desk. “Why would you ask me that?”
Taken aback by his strange reaction, Catelyn replied quickly, saying, “it’s just that, the only way it could make sense to me is if you were protecting someone else, and the only one I could think of that you’d lie for was Brandon.”
“Bra...Brandon?” Ned asked, looking as though he didn’t even understand the word.
A moment later, he was laughing, and Catelyn just stared at him in confusion. Until she’d said his brother’s name, it seemed like every word had only made him paler, and as he laughed, his face regained its color completely.
“No,” Ned said as he calmed down. “I’m sorry, Catelyn, but Jon isn’t Brandon’s son. By the time he was conceived, Brandon was already...in King’s Landing. I have to ask, though, what made you think that?”
“Surely you’ve noticed the resemblance,” Catelyn said, scowling. She had to admit that she’d come to like the idea that he wasn’t her husband’s bastard.
“I suppose he looks a little like my brother,” Ned said.
She had quickly excused herself after that, feeling humiliated for having been so wrong, as well as renewed irritation at Ned for fathering the bastard in the first place. The idea that he looked only a little like Brandon was laughable even then. Now he was practically his late uncle come again, just as large and imposing, just as annoyingly charming, and with the same rugged looks. There wasn’t a servant girl in the castle that she hadn’t heard giggle at something he’d said, and she was sure that it had only been through judicious use of scowls and less than subtle reminders of what would happen to them if they sullied themselves with a bastard that they didn’t have a castle full of pregnant servants.
She sighed and set down her brush. She was sure that the bastard was a threat, and that would be a menace in time, but her husband and eldest son disagreed, and there was nothing to be done about it. All that she could do in the meantime was try to keep an eye on him and make sure that he never ended up in a position where he could be a true threat to her children. She just wished that he looked less like Brandon so that keeping an eye on him would be less confusing.
*****
“Our stores are quite full, my lady,” Maester Luwin said. “Were winter to come tomorrow, we’d be well prepared for it.”
“Let’s hope that it doesn’t all the same,” Catelyn said, smiling at the older man. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Arya digging her spoon into the thick soup in front of her, holding it the wrong way, and she quickly turned and hissed, “Arya!”
The girl jolted at getting caught and the decency to look sheepish before returning to her meal properly. Catelyn just rolled her eyes and returned her roasted mutton. After Robb and Sansa had ended up looking so much like her, she had desperately hoped that her third child would look like Ned, and she got her wish. The gods loved their jests, though, and her one and only child to be born with the Stark look also happened to be her most difficult and rambunctious one. If not for the bastard, she wouldn’t have cared. The thought of him prompted her to look out at the servant’s tables where he normally sat, practically holding court among them, and she found him conspicuously absent.
“Maester Luwin,” Catelyn said as quietly as she could. “Did you happen to notice if Jon Snow was there earlier?”
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I did not look,” Luwin said.
Catelyn scowled at that. As a newborn babe, Snow had been large and possessed of appetite like few others. The few times that she’d been forced to see him then, he had invariably had his face in the chest of some buxom wet nurse, and his appetite hadn’t diminished with age. His absence from a feast, even one as minor and informal as this, was strange, and she was sure that he was up to no good.
“Theon,” Catelyn called, just loud enough to be heard.
“My lady,” Theon replied.
“Did you see Snow here earlier?” Catelyn asked.
“I haven’t seen the bastard since earlier in the training yard,” Theon replied. “Would you like me to go look for him?”
“No,” Catelyn said, grinding her teeth and reaching for ale. “That won’t be necessary.”
She shook her head and put him out of her mind for the rest of the feast. If she found him doing something truly objectionable, her best bet would be to wait for Ned to return, at any rate. The comforting atmosphere of the small feast in the center of the giant castle that had become her home over the years was enough to drive all concerns about the bastard away. In all likelihood, he was just practicing with his sword. She swore he slept with the damn thing.
*****
“Oh gods!” Bandy cried, the sounds of his hips smacking her pert little arse echoing through his small room.
“Get back to licking,” Jon growled, pushing her head back between Shyra’s thighs.
“Aye, sister,” Shrya replied before gasping in delight. “I...ah right there...I did it for you while he was rutting me like a wild beast.”
“You say that like you didn’t enjoy it,” Jon said, feigning sounding hurt as he looked her in her sky-blue eyes.
“I...oh...I loved it, milord!” Shrya moaned.
“I know you did,” Jon smirked.
She had practically soaked his bed through; she’d cum so hard on his cock, and how her screams didn’t alert all of Winterfell, he didn’t know. He kept a hand on Bandy’s hand, wrapping her gorgeous red hair around his fist. He’d had his eye on these two for a while for a number of reasons. For one thing, bedding twins was a rare delight that even whorehouses were rarely able to supply to clients. Beyond that, though, it was their looks, from their tight little bodies and pale skin to their blue eyes and stunning red hair.
“You love that cock, don’t you, girl?” he asked, tugging gently on her hair.
“I fucking love it!” Bandy cried. “It’s like you’re part horse.”
“We’ve seen enough horse cocks over the years,” Shyra said, pulling Bandy’s head back down, “and you’re as near to one as we’ve heard of. It’s like you’re...ugh...a centaur!”
Jon laughed at that and picked up his pace. He could tell from how Shyra was starting to flutter and quiver around him that she was close to her peak, and his own pleasure was fast approaching as well. His hips were a blur as he fucked her hard and fast, spearing deep into her over and over again.
“Fuck yes!” Shyra shrieked as she came, her whole body going taut and her arse lifting off of the bed as the pleasure coursed through her.
Grinning as his other lover shook and shivered on the bed, he pulled Bandy’s head back up and brought his other hand down hard on her pert little arsecheek.
“Yes, yes, YES!” the other redhead squealed as her own climax thundered through her.
The feeling of her already tight cunt spasming around his cock, almost milking him, proved too much and Jon barely managed to pull out in time. Fisting his cock, he erupted, covering her back in thick ropes of his seed. Bandy collapsed forward, continuing to shake and quiver as the aftershocks rocked her body.
“Fucking hells!” Jon gasped, backing up until he reached the small chair he kept in his room and sat down.
“Gods be good; you finish like a horse too,” Shyra laughed, the first of them to recover. “It would be a waste to just wipe all this off.”
Before Jon could even think of asking what she meant, Shyra leaned down and started lapping up the cum from Bandy’s back like a cat at a stream. Despite how hard he had just cum, Jon felt his cock twitch at the sight and groaned at her knowing smirk.
“This was the best idea,” Bandy sighed once she’d caught her breath.
“You should listen to me more often,” Jon smirked at the stablehand’s daughters.
“What makes you think it was your idea?” Shyra asked, giving him a wicked grin.
She finished licking her twin’s back clean and shared some of the last of it with her in a searing, hot kiss. Jon felt his blood return back south, and within mere moments, he was as hard as steel once more.
“You two have wanted this for a while, then?” Jon asked.
“Ever since we heard of that whore who let you fuck her for free,” Bandy replied. “We wondered, why would a whore, a woman who’s probably fucked more men than we’ve ever met, let one have her for free?”
“The best answer we could come up with was that what you had to offer was even better than coin,” Shyra purred, “and after that, I think we were right.”
“Now, where did you hear about that?” Jon asked, amused.
“We heard Theon Greyjoy complaining that his favorite whore let you fuck her without charge, and she’d never let him do that,” Bandy said.
“When he mentioned that she was a redhead like us, we figured that you might want us too,” Shyra added. “She apparently has big tits and a round arse, two things we don’t have.”
“But we have something she doesn’t too,” Bandy finished for her, wrapping an arm around her sister. Staring down at his cock with dark, lustful eyes, she added, “I think he wants more, sweet sister.”
He couldn’t deny that as he looked them up and down. They were selling themselves short a bit, and he would have happily fucked either one of them alone even though they lacked Ros’ curves. Their pale skin and the thatches of red hair between their legs would have been enough for him. Their eyes were a shade lighter than the ones he often thought of as he fucked Ros’ throat, and their hair was a shade lighter, but he had always loved fucking redheads.
“I think you’re right,” Shyra said, getting up onto her hands and knees on the bed and turning around.
Bandy quickly followed suit, and Jon groaned at the sight of their pert arses and gaping cunts. This was going to be a long night if he had anything to say about it.
*****
Catelyn had eventually sent a guard to check the training yard, and when it was found empty, she’d become concerned. The bastard had always seemed to be loyal and dutiful to his family, but she knew what his kind were like. Bastards were people born of sin, as the faith taught, and therefore they had worse impulse control than their trueborn counterparts. They were given to lust, envy, and all other causes of man’s follies far more than other people. One only needed to look at the example of Daemon Blackfyre to see how much damage they could do if overindulged.
Jon Snow would show his true colors eventually, and he wasn’t going to get a better chance to do so than with Ned and Robb both gone. She approached the servant’s quarters, where she had insisted that Snow’s quarters be, and decided to listen outside the door to see if she could pick up on some hint of conspiracy.
“Oh, milord,” a young woman sighed. “You’re incredible.”
“You’re rather incredible yourself, lass,” Jon said, sounding utterly relaxed.
“That...does he have a whore in there?” Catelyn wondered, growing incensed.
“Our father has always held you in high esteem,” another, quite similar voice said.
“Aye, though I doubt he would still if he knew how you’d plotted this out,” the first girl said.
“Plots?” Catelyn wondered, perking up at the word.
If there had been only one girl in there, Catelyn would have thought that the bastard had just debauched some poor serving girl or brought a whore into the castle. With there being two of them in there, she figured that it had less to do with whoring and more to do with even less savory plots.
“Mine wouldn’t be pleased either,” Jon laughed, “but you let me worry about that. I have far better things in mind than concerning myself with what our father’s would say just now.”
“More?” one of the girls asked.
“He’s a greedy one, sweet sister,” the other said. “He could take every w...ack...in the North and not be satisfied.”
Catelyn couldn’t hear what exactly the girl had said through her cough, but she was sure she’d heard enough. It was just like she’d always feared, and the bastard truly was plotting to take the North from Robb. A fury the likes of which she’d never known overtook her, and while normally she’d have gone to the guards, that fury combined with the ale she’d had with her supper made her unwisely bold, and she opened the door without a thought.
“I knew you were plotting to…” Catelyn cut herself off as twin screams reached her ear.
On Jon’s small bed, he lay on his back, naked as the day he was born, sandwiched between two red-haired girls about his age. They looked familiar, and later on, Catelyn would guess that their father might have worked in the stables, but that wasn’t where her mind went as she took in the sight before her. Jon Snow, the bastard she’d loathed the very sight of since she first learned that he existed, was utterly bare to her, and her brain refused to budge from that realization.
She had thought for a while that he looked like his uncle Brandon, and as she saw far more of him than she’d have ever expected to in that moment, she recalled the feverish fantasies about his late uncle that she’d had after he departed from Riverrun. In her innocent mind, he’d looked strong, more than anything, strong and very muscular. His arms had looked thick through his gray doublets and his shoulders broad, and from there, she’d imagined that the rest of him just looked large and imposing. She hadn’t truly known what a man’s sex looked like at the time, but she had the misfortune of watching two horses mate once before her mother could pull her away and just kind of pictured it looking like that.
What she saw of Jon Snow just there looked like her maiden’s fantasy come to life. His neck was thick, and his shoulders were wide and heavy, leading to huge arms. His chest looked strong, and his abdomen was flat and muscled, looking like it was cut into little sections. His manhood was obscene, resting against his abdomen, clearly slick, and fully engorged. It took Catelyn a moment before she was able to force herself to close her eyes.
“Milady!” one of the twins lamented.
“Girls, get dressed,” Jon said, sounding calm, but mostly drunk. “It’s me her ladyship wants a word with.”
“I assure you that isn’t true,” Catelyn hissed, still keeping her eyes pressed shut. “This is utterly unacceptable.”
“My lady, your problem is with me,” Jon said. “I’m the one you want to berate, so please just let them go.”
“Get dressed, all of you,” Catelyn snarled, turning around and closing the door behind her.
“The nerve of him!” Catelyn hissed in her mind.
She couldn’t even wrap her mind around how...that would work with two women. She had seen enough of him to know that he had but one manhood like all the rest. A moment later, a fully clothed Jon emerged from the room and walked up to her. He smelled of sex and ale, and she couldn’t look up into his annoyingly handsome face without her mind flashing against her will to what she’d just walked in on.
“Did you seriously think that you’d get away with this just because your father wasn’t here?” Catelyn asked, turning to look at him as he moved around her and leaned on the stone wall.
A moment later, the twins tore out of his room and disappeared around the corner before she could say a word, each one looking clearly hobbled.
“How difficult do they expect it to be to track down true twins?” Catelyn asked dryly.
“You didn’t burst into my room because you thought I was abed with him,” Jon said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so shocked. You thought I was plotting against the family while Father and Robb were away. I clearly wasn’t.”
“Just because you weren’t doesn’t mean that your father won’t be furious at you for sullying those servant girls,” Catelyn spat, feeling embarrassed at having been so wrong.
“Aye, he will,” Jon said, “and I’ll accept whatever punishment he deems appropriate, but that doesn’t change the fact that you entered my room alone, because you thought I was turning into another Daemon Blackfyre.”
“All bastards covet what isn’t theirs,” Catelyn said.
“With all due respect, that’s like saying that all redheads have blue eyes,” Jon argued. “Maegor wasn’t a bastard, and neither was Aegon II and yet both ignored the wills of kings to take the throne for themselves. Aegon the Unworthy wasn’t a bastard either, and he had as much to do with the Blackfyre Rebellions as the actual bastards, if not more. That’s not even mentioning that Brynden Rivers was one of the Good King’s most fervent supporters.”
“I don’t need history lessons,” Catelyn snapped.
“And I don’t need accusations that I’m plotting against my siblings,” Jon said heatedly. “You and I have very little in common, but we do both love them.”
Catelyn glared at him, breathing heavily. He wasn’t normally this argumentative, being happy to avoid her as much as possible, and she figured that the ale she smelled had much to do with that. Then again, ale was why she had started this confrontation in the first place. It weighed on her still, and she wondered if she hadn’t drank more than she realized as she fretted about the man in front of her.
“Love or not, you remain a threat to them,” Catelyn said. “You’re your father’s son; you have his look...”
“If my looks bother you so, wed Robb to Alys Karstark,” Jon interrupted her. “She too looks like the Starks, and their children surely would as well. Robb is capable and charming, and the lords of the North will happily accept him as their lord. Even if I wanted to take that from him, I would fail.”
“You underestimate how your skills will impress other men,” Catelyn said.
“I wouldn’t be enough, and that’s beside the point anyway,” Jon scoffed. “I don’t want this place; I don’t want to take it from Robb, and no matter how much I might impress the lords of the North, that will not change. I must say, though, that I seem to have impressed you.”
“I beg your pardon,” Catelyn snapped, grabbing his arm as he moved to walk back into his room.
“Earlier, in the training yard,” Jon said, turning back to look at her. “I’m used to seeing scorn in your eyes when you look at me, but there’s been something else lately that I can’t place.”
“You’re seeing things,” Catelyn said, removing her hand and trying not to notice just how solid he felt.
“Perhaps,” Jon said. “Truth be told, earlier, it looked like you had seen a ghost.”
Catelyn glared at him, growing angrier at his sheer temerity. Jon had been a source of rage for her since she first learned that Ned had sired him and brought him back to Winterfell with him. She had tried to forgive her husband for his transgression and the insult that it represented, but having that insult wandering the halls of the castle had made it impossible to let it go entirely. They had built a good and loving marriage together, despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought them together, but that lingering problem between them was always there.
Having him in the castle was deeply annoying in itself, but having him standing there, looking as he did as he towered over her, was worse. Her hatred for him was unchanged, but as he’d started to look more like her dead betrothed, it had started to mix with far more confusing feelings. Seeing him with those girls, with their red hair and their blue eyes so much like her own, only made it worse. She felt herself growing warm and cursed her traitorous body for reacting so inappropriately to her husband’s bastard.
She had to admit that she had thought about getting revenge for the insult before. She never allowed herself to think for a moment that she would, knowing that she was a better person than that, but in that moment, with the ale in her belly and heat pooling between her legs, she’d never been more tempted.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Catelyn said, poking him in the chest in frustration.
Jon stepped back, surprised at having been touched by her at all, and reentered his room. Catelyn followed inside, and the two stood there, glaring at each other. The tension between them was almost palpable until she did the last thing that she ever imagined herself doing to Jon Snow.
She kissed him.
*****
Jon froze in response to the kiss, his brain struggling to process what was happening. As a boy, he had wanted the woman in his arms to be a mother to him, actually mistaking her for his mother once until she screamed at him never to call her that again. Back then, he couldn’t understand how Robb’s mother wasn’t his when the two of them shared a father. Once he realized that she was never going to be what he wanted and slowly came to accept her constant scorn, he’d grown resentful instead and sought to avoid her.
As he aged and as his body began to change, his feelings regarding Catelyn grew more complicated. She hated him for something that he didn’t do and which he had no control over, and it was easy to hate her in return, but she was also a beautiful woman, and some of his earliest sexual dreams featured her. He’d taken to enjoying whores whose hair was similar to hers, enjoying the ability to take out his frustrations and try to sate his terrible desires through fantasy. It was never the same, but he knew it was the closest he was going to get to living out those fantasies for real, and then she kissed him. Pulling the door closed, he pushed her against it and returned the kiss hungrily. Pushing his tongue into her mouth, her responsive moan shot straight to his cock, which sprang back to life in seconds. She tasted of ale, the same as the ale he’d drank that night.
“Wait, wait!” Jon gasped, using all of his willpower to pull away from her. “What the fuck is this?”
“I,” Catelyn gasped, looking momentary mortified. “I...oh gods, what am I doing?”
“Don’t tell me that seeing my cock was enough to cause this,” Jon snarked.
Catelyn looked up at him, feeling heat pool low in her belly at the lust in his gray eyes, eyes that were so much like…
“Brandon,” Catelyn said.
“What?” Jon asked.
“You look like your uncle,” Catelyn said. “You look so much like him, it hurts.”
“I…” Jon trailed off, surprised at that. “The one you were promised to originally?”
“Yes,” Catelyn said. “Gods, it’s like looking into the past. You’re only a few years younger than he was when he visited Riverrun.”
“Grew close, did you?” Jon asked.
“Quite,” Catelyn admitted.
“And you wanted him terribly,” Jon guessed. “You wanted him in the ways your cuntish septas told you you shouldn’t want a man.”
“Watch your tongue,” Catelyn snarled.
“So it was seeing me with the twins,” Jon smirked. “You saw me with a pair of girls with hair just like yours, and it made you imagine things you hadn’t since you were a girl.”
Catelyn kissed him without warning, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him down. Deep down, he knew that this was a terrible idea, and if he were sober, he wouldn’t even consider doing it, but he had wanted this haughty woman for as long as he had known desire, and he was going to have her.
Deepening the kiss again, he teased her tongue with his own until she returned his passion. There was nothing gentle about their kiss, as they did their best to devour each other like hungry, snarling wolves. It was rough and fierce, a meeting of two people full of resentment, anger, and long-suppressed lust, and he hoped it was a preview of the coupling to come. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along her cheek and down her neck, nibbling at her pulse point in a way that made her moan.
“Gods, I’ve wanted you for years,” Jon admitted.
“I told you about bastards,” Catelyn said, and in an instant, his hand was on her throat.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes full of lust just barely tinged with fear. Whatever else she thought of him, she didn’t think that he’d hurt her, though given that she’d barged into his room earlier the way that she had, he already knew that.
“So many nights, I thought about all the ways that I could quiet your barbed tongue,” Jon growled. “I stopped wanting you to love me when I was four, but I’ve imagined fucking the resentment out of you more nights than I can count.”
Catelyn shuddered and brought her hand down to his breeches, feeling his rock-hard cock through them.
“I’ve had to endure having you around all these years,” she said. “I’ve endured the insult of knowing that my husband bedded another woman and had the gall to take the product of that coupling home with him. Why shouldn’t I have one night’s worth of revenge for all that?”
“One night,” Jon agreed.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be joining your uncle at the wall without a cock,” Catelyn said.
His hand still on her throat, he brought his free hand down between her legs and sank two large fingers into her woolen dress. Catelyn gasped as she felt him rub her cloth-covered cunt, her wide eyes never leaving his. She was hot, so gloriously hot, and he knew that she wasn’t playing him. Letting her go, he sank to his knees and bunched up her dress, exposing her pale legs, until he reached her small clothes. There was a wet spot on the plain fabric, and he pressed his fingers against it, making her cry out.
“You really are wet,” Jon said as he rose to his feet, keeping his hand between her legs.
“I...I am,” Catelyn admitted.
“How long have you wanted me?” Jon asked, pushing her small clothes to the side and sinking his first two fingers inside her.
“Oh fuck!” Catelyn cried out, unable to stop herself.
“Answer me,” Jon said.
He brought his thumb to her swollen clit and rubbed little circles around the sensitive nub as he continued to pump his fingers slowly in and out of her.
“M...months!” Catelyn exclaimed. “You have his height, his build, his...gods!”
He had pressed his finger against a small, rough patch of skin inside her that he knew drew women wild, and he smirked at her reaction. He wondered just how long it had taken her to stop fantasizing about his late uncle, or if she ever had. He moved his fingers faster inside her until they were pistoning in and out of her. Catelyn moaned and cried out, pressing against the wall and trying to muffle her sounds with her hand. Pressing against the sensitive spot and stroking her clit, he soon had her hips bucking against him as her climax grew within her.
He pulled her hand away from her mouth and looked her right in the eye as he said, “I want to hear you scream when you cum for me.”
She let out a keening wail, quivered, and shook in his arms. Her cunt spasmed around his fingers, massaging them powerfully, and he was amazed at just how tight she still was after having five children. As she slumped against him, panting for breath, he wasted no time removing her dress. As it pooled around her feet, he stepped back to take in the sight of her and groaned.
He would have expected a woman who had born as many children as her to be thicker around the middle, and while her belly was certainly soft, she was wonderfully shapely. Her large breasts spilled across her ribs, time having taken some of its toll, but they still had quite a bit of firmness to them, and her pale pink nipple pointed right at him. Her hips were wide and fleshy-looking, something they had in common with her thighs, and he couldn’t wait to sink his fingers into them as he fucked her from behind.
“Wow, that was…” Catelyn trailed off, her jaw falling.
After her orgasm, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Even as she felt Jon remove her dress, she’d kept them closed, content to just bask in the pleasure she’d experienced. As she came down from the high, she opened them again and saw that Jon was standing there entirely nude. His cock, which had looked large when she’d seen him before, looked utterly massive up close.
“How in the world…” she went to ask.
“I’ll admit I’m large, but I recall how big Bran and Rickon were when they were born, and it’s not that big,” Jon said.
“I was going to ask how you fit inside those whorish twins,” Catelyn said dryly.
“Slowly,” Jon said, reaching forward and pulling her smallclothes down. “Fucking hells, you’re beautiful.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Catelyn hissed.
Her hiss turned to a moan as he did just that and pressed his turgid cock against her belly. He walked her to the bed, and she sank down onto it without thinking about what was happening. As she felt her back press against wet sheets, she recalled that the bastard had just fucked two women in this bed before her. She was about to be bedded by a man who wasn’t her husband and whose cock was still sticky with the fluids of other women. Her mother would be horrified to know what Catelyn had become, as would her old septas. Septa Mordane would label her a whore, and she knew that what she was doing was wrong, but the burning desire she felt could not be quenched, and the taste of pleasure she’d had just now had only further inflamed her lusts.
“Such perfect tits,” Jon murmured as he cupped her heavy mounds.
He brought his lips to one of her nipples and sucked on the hard peak. Catelyn had never fed her own children, electing to, as most noblewomen did, employ a wet nurse instead, and the idea that all of Ned’s children, only Jon Snow had ever sucked on her breasts was too bizarre not to laugh.
“What?” Jon asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“Nothing that would make sense,” Catelyn replied.
He shrugged and returned to worshiping her sensitive mounds, switching back and forth as he teased them both with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Catelyn whimpered and moaned as he worked, laying back and luxuriating in the pleasure. After a few minutes, he stopped and stood up, looking down at her with lust clear in his eyes.
“Roll over,” he commanded, and Catelyn shuddered at his tone.
He knew this could only be a one-time thing and that it was the only opportunity he was going to get to order her about as well. Probably thinking that she’d rather not look at him as he fucked her, Catelyn scrambled onto her hands and knees, and Jon let out a low whistle at the sight of her plump arse presented to him. Five pregnancies hadn’t done as much to her middle as he’d had expected, but it have given her a delightfully fat ass.
“Ugh!” Catelyn groaned as he sank his fingers into her flesh, pulling the cheeks apart and exposing her winking arsehole and ginger-furred cunt.
He picked up his cock and rested it on her arse and lower back. Catelyn shuddered and looked back at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
“Oh gods, that’s huge!” she whimpered. As he pressed the bulbous head between her fleshy folds, her eyes grew wider, and Jon locked his eyes on hers as he pushed forward.
“Fucking hells,” Jon groaned as he sank the first few inches of his cock inside her snug cunt.
Catelyn looked forward and buried her face in the bedding, moaning loudly as he spread her inner walls wide. He reached forward and placed a hand on the back of her neck, pushing her into his pillow as he sank another inch of his cock inside her. She continued to whimper and moan as he fucked her with slow, increasingly deep thrusts.
“So deep!” Catelyn cried as he sank the last inch inside her, pressing right against the very back of her cunt.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Jon groaned, letting go of her hair and grabbing her hips with both hands.
Catelyn shuddered at the feeling of having him inside her, spreading her inner walls so wide that she could feel his heartbeat in his cock. She had never felt this full and had to admit that it was bloody incredible.
“Tell me what you want,” Jon whispered in her ear, sending a shiver through her body.
“Snow, I want you to…” Catelyn went to say.
“Jon,” Jon said.
“Jon, please…” Catelyn tried to say, only for the words to catch in her throat.
“I’m content to stay just like this,” Jon said. “I could stay like this until dawn if you’d like.”
Catelyn growled and cried, “Jon, fuck me!”
Jon pulled most of his cock from her depths and slammed every last inch back inside her hard. Catelyn shrieked as she felt him hit parts of her she didn’t know existed. She knew logically that the opening of her womb was back there, and if the pain she felt during childbirth was any indication, it was terribly sensitive, but either Jon wasn’t hitting it or she was wrong, because that deep penetration felt incredible.
“Harder!” Catelyn cried, burying her face in the sheets as he obeyed.
She would normally behave in a more dignified manner than this in bed, but she found it oddly freeing to know that she was doing something wrong for just one night. In her mind, she could act like a whore just this once and then return to her life, having satisfied an old longing.
Jon had no problem giving her what she wanted, as, in all his fantasies about Catelyn, he had never been gentle. All the nights he’d spent fucking Ros from behind just like this, imagining that she was the lady who loathed him, he’d never imagined that he’d get to experience the real thing. As wet as she was, he didn’t need to wait long to build up to a truly punishing rhythm. Catelyn’s cries were muffled by his pillow, but even through that, he could still hear the pleasure in her voice. Her quieting herself meant that he could hear the squelching of her wet cunt and the sound of his hips smacking her fat arse more clearly.
“Oh gods!” Catelyn whimpered as he hit a particularly deep spot inside her. “That feels so good!”
“You like my cock?” Jon asked, grinning devilishly at her.
“Ye...yes!” Catelyn cried.
“Every time you glare at me across the room going forward,” Jon snarled, “and every time you call me bastard, I’m going to remember the time I fucked your sweet cunt until you screamed.”
“Gods!” Catelyn whimpered, her whole body starting to go taut as she felt herself racing towards her peak.
Jon reached under her and buried his fingers in her red curls, seeking her throbbing clit. The second he found it, Catelyn moaned and clawed at the bed. She began pushing back against him harder, meeting each brutal thrust. With his fingers stroking her clit and his cock spearing deep within her again and again, Catelyn felt like she was losing her mind. Her vision started to go white every time he hit the deepest parts of her, and she knew that any second, she was going to cum hard. Reaching under her, she tried to meet his fingers on her throbbing pearl, but as she just passed her navel, she felt something poke her hand.
“What the…?” she went to ask, only to freeze as she figured out what she was feeling.
That was him, his massive cock, stretching her so much that it actually bulged her belly out. She wondered if her poor cunt was ever going to be the same, and no sooner had that thought entered her head than her orgasm crashed over her.
“GODS!” Catelyn shrieked at the top of her lungs, her whole body shuddering and thrashing as pleasure beyond her wildest dreams flooded her in waves.
Jon groaned as he felt her cunt spasm and quiver around his cock, and his jaw dropped when she sprayed his balls. It wasn’t often that he made a woman squirt, and he’d never have expected Catelyn of all women to do it. Grinning, he tightened his grip on her hips as she started to fall towards the bed and held her up, fucking her even harder and more savagely as she came. When she slumped down onto the bed, panting for breath as her sweaty form continued to shake, he pushed her ass down and began fucking her prone.
“Wha...what?” Catelyn panted, looking behind her in shock.
Jon grinned at her dazed look, her hair covering her face and her eyes lidded. She looked very well fucked already, and he eagerly awaited seeing how she’d look after he’d had her a few times. After all, she’d made it clear that this was a one-time thing, but that didn’t mean it was necessarily a one-round thing.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled in her ear.
The sounds of his hips slapping her thick ass continued to echo through the small room, as did her dazed cries. Despite having just cum harder than she ever had in her life, Catelyn’s body continued to burn with lust and desire, and to her shock, she felt herself soaring towards another peak.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” she screamed, too out of it to care about keeping quiet any more.
“Look...at you...begging for my cock like a whore,” Jon panted, feeling his self-control beginning to slip.
Catelyn just whined and buried her face in the bedding, not willing to accept his words yet not able to dispute them. Jon grabbed a handful of her thick red hair, hair that had inspired him to fuck a fair few specific women through the years, and pulled, dragging her head up.
“I think you can cum again for me,” he rumbled. “I think you’ve got another one in you.”
“I’m close!” Catelyn cried, barely able to believe it herself.
Jon picked up his pace, chasing his own pleasure as much as hers at that point. He’d been trying to find the angle that he’d fucked her at when he had her on her knees since she fell forward, and as he pistoned in and out of her cunt, he managed to find it. Catelyn immediately shrieked as he did, digging her fingers into his sheets so hard that he was sure that she was going to cut through them with her nails. A half-dozen thrusts later, she squealed in pleasure, and he let go. Roaring as he came, Jon pulled her close and let loose inside her, painting her womb white with his thick seed. The two of them writhed together, locked in a maelstrom of mind-melting ecstasy. The pleasure seemed to go on and on, but eventually it ended, and Jon collapsed on top of her.
Catelyn accepted the weight and heat of him happily, sinking into the bed as a bone-deep satisfaction enveloped her. Despite the circumstances and how much both of them undoubtedly fear the possible consequences of what happened that night, in the moment, she was too relaxed to even think. It was only when she felt him pull his cock from her depths and roll over that she remembered who she was with, and even then, only when he pulled her onto his chest. She wrapped an arm around that muscular chest, pressing her cheek against his hot skin and feeling the hair tickle her when she felt him reach down and start kneading her arse.
“Wha…” she went to ask when she felt his cock poke into her belly.
She looked up at Jon just in time for him to roll her onto her back and hover over her.
“I said I wasn’t done with you,” he said, his dark eyes boring into her with palpable lust.
Catelyn shuddered and spread her legs wider, her breath hitching as she realized that she was in for a very long night.