Lycan's Run 1 (Commission, ASoIaF/GoT, Lycan's Rise CYOA) (Patreon)

The air rushed past my head, whipping through my fur, and the ground disappeared under my paws. The muscles in my legs coiled and then released, launching me over a fallen log as I ran through the forest. My jaw lowered, and I briefly closed my eyes, saving the thrilling rush of a good run. A faint, barely there burning sensation in my muscles was the only indicator of the sheer length of my run, the nearly twelve hours of solid, hard running finally breaching through my regeneration.

I slowed my pace from a sprint to a slow jog, coming to a stop at the edge of a forest, overlooking a small valley, filled with tents surrounding a massive, half melted castle. Harrenhal, the site where Robert’s Rebellion would begin. From the looks of it, I’d arrived before the tournament began. Good, I had plans for it. My muzzle opened in a literal lupine grin, as I headed back into the forest, considering how I wanted to play with the upcoming tournament.

An hour later, out of my wolf form and in old clothes and with a rough sack over my shoulder, I made my way down the hill to the tent city. First priority: find a place to stay. After that, gather information. I wanted to know where all of the major figures were. I had some chaos to cause, after all. The gods who sent me here wanted a show? They’d get a show.

A section of the tent city was set aside for wandering peasants, which was where I ended up. After that, I slowly worked through the crowds, not interacting with anyone, just listening and filing away the information that felt important or relevant. The tournament was going to officially start in a week, a large number of the big name noble houses had arrived, the Crown Prince and his immediate family were among the first arrivals, the Starks were expected to arrive in another day.

I considered that; this was the tournament that would see Rhaegar crown Lyanna Stark, but the sequence of events that would follow would see the Seven Kingdoms all but tear themselves apart. Sure, I was going to upset the status quo, but I wasn’t after carnage and bloodshed. A smirk spread across my face, as I thought about different ways that I could shake things up.

The Mad King was going to show up, he could cause a lot more trouble for me than I was interested in. An idea hit me, and it caused a wicked grin to spread across my face. This would certainly drag the status quo into a back alley and gut them with a fileting knife.

It was all I could do to keep from cackling in a barking, howling laughter as I settled on my course of action. When night fell, no one saw my lupine form race out of the tent city, heading south along the Kingsroad. Time to make things a lot more interesting.

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It took me half a day of hard running to reach my target, and it probably would have taken the royal procession close to four days to make the same distance. There was the King, two of his Kingsguard, and a carriage driver. It was the middle of the day when I reached them, and it was all I could do to keep from rushing them.

Don’t get me wrong, my strain of lycanthropy would almost certainly let me butcher the four of them easily, but I didn’t want to start forming bad habits. That was stupid. So, I carefully stalked my prey, keeping my body low and tapping into the raw, physical power within me. People think lycanthropy and think giant wolves, full lupine or a hybrid of human and beast, but in my case, there’s a lot more to it than that.

For instance, I was capable of altering my size, from a four meter giant to barely more than half a foot in height. The latter of which made my approach stealthy enough that it was only when the wind shifted, carrying my scent to the horses, that there was any warning of the on coming attack. A warning that came far, far too late for my prey to do anything about it. Leaping up from the ground, my supernatural strength and lessened mass letting my diminutive form reach level with the side window of the carriage holding Mad King Aerys.

It was at that point that I shifted to my normal size. The sudden increase in mass had an equal effect on my momentum, causing the wood and glass to shatter as nearly four hundred pounds of wolf slammed into it. My jaws snapped shut around the king, his emaciated, gaunt, and hideous face barely having time to shift in surprise. With a twist of my head, a single paw holding his lower half in place, Aerys Targaryen II was ripped in half.

The momentum didn’t stop with the Mad King’s death, the entire carriage fell onto its side, the driver letting out a panicked scream that almost covered the sound of wood splintering and frightened horses. I took a brief moment to savor the hot blood decorating my muzzle, the rush of the kill, before clawing my way out of the overturned carriage.

Before I had a chance to take stock of the rest of the King’s group, a sword slashed across my neck, knocking me onto my back. I rolled, coming back onto all four paws, hackles raised and a deep, rumbling growl in my chest. The two Kingsguard had dismounted, their swords drawn, and had their steel blades aimed at me.

“Seven damned beast,” one of them muttered, my ear twitching.

I didn’t have hands to check my throat at the moment, but it didn’t feel like the sword had cut me. I knew that, in nonhuman form, my hide was all but impervious to weapons, but I hadn’t tested it against valyrian steel, nor was I in a particular hurry to do so.

As the Kingsguard approached, I dropped my ears, baring my teeth, a low growl escaping my maw. They hesitated, looking nervously at me and the blood of their charge on my mouth and jowls. As they did so, I reached deep into that well of power within me, pulling forth that burning, blazing energy to the forefront. I knew from having done this before that my eyes glowed a fierce, fiery red, trails of smoke leaked out between my teeth, and the red highlights in my otherwise black fur began to sway like tongues of flame.

“What sort of hell creature-” one of them began, but he never finished as I lunged forward, trails of flame following my teeth and paws. His head flew off, a spray of blood and gore flying through the air.

The other Kingsgard screamed as he did his best to drive his sword, point first, into my side. All he managed to accomplish was pushing me off his fellow. It took me only two steps, claws digging into the packed earth, to bring me next to him. I snapped my jaws closed around his neck, and he froze, in shock, in terror, and in pain. I tore his throat out, and he died without a sound. I let the bodies drop, blood from my muzzle dripping onto the ground, painting the earth red.

I made my way off the Kingsroad, licking my chops of blood as I did so. Step one of my plan to upturn the Seven Kingdoms was done, now to get back to Harrenhal for step two.

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I managed to reach Harrenhal in time with the arrival of the Stark contingent, and laid low for a period of time. To my surprise, even as the tournament began days later I heard no word of the death of the king. Then again, I was used to the lightning fast new times of the age of social media, where everyone with a phone (which was everyone) was potentially an on the scene reporter.

Regardless, I kept to myself and watched, considering my next moves. The power within me wanted to spread, and if I had my way then I would turn each and every human being on this planet into a lycan like myself. I had two ways of doing so, the classic way of saliva in the target’s bloodstream (typically through a bite), and the fun way.

It was on the second day of the tournament that I settled on my target for the next step in upsetting Westeros’s status quo. A certain noble daughter was sneaking around, gathering pieces of armor. A grin spread across my face, as I watched Lyanna Stark don the mismatched armor and head to compete in the joust.

I didn’t watch the joust itself, merely paid attention long enough to follow her as she left. She made her way to a hidden part of the nearby woodlands, and I repeated the approach I had used to ambush the king, but I had very different, much more amorous, goals in mind here.

Slowly, I inched closer and closer as she removed her armor, getting as close as possible. When she unbuckled the belt holding her padded gambeson secure, the horse she had rode in the joust bolted, having noticed my presence.

“Blizzard!” the young woman shouted, standing up and running a short distance after the horse.

I took advantage of her distraction, shifting back to my default size and pouncing. My mouth stayed closed, and I made sure not to leave a mark on her as my weight knocked her to the ground, the air rushing out of her lungs from the impact.

She squirmed, only to freeze as I gently put my mouth around her neck. She turned her head slightly, just enough that she could look up at me. Her eye widened in shock, her jaw dropping as I slowly took my weight off her. She moved as if to push herself up, and I gave a low growl, making her freeze.

“No movement, alright,” she murmured.

I ignored her, instead putting a paw on the middle of her back, inching the thick padding of her gambeson up so that it no longer covered below her waist. Her body tightened as I leaned in, my paw still on her back, and tore her leggings away with my teeth.

“No, it can’t be, this can’t be…” she began, only to choke on her words as my tongue reached down and gave a long lick, starting at her ass and ending with her clit.

I did this again, and again, over and over, savoring the taste of her feminine juices as they began to flow from her. Her hands covered her mouth, muffling the moans that my ministrations pulled out of her. Soon, a sudden rush of her cum gushed out of her pussy, her legs quivering as her body shook. She covered her mouth, trying to stop her moaning from being too loud as her eyes rolled back.

Her legs continued to tremble as I took my paw off her back and used my nose to lift her waist up until her legs were under her. It wasn’t proper doggy style, but face down ass up was good enough, and by this point my red wolf cock was well and truly erect and ready. I was large enough that I didn’t need to mount her, instead I simply stood over her and started thrusting, blindly searching for her womanhood.

It took a few tries, but I eventually found it, driving my cock into her, making Lyanna let out a choked, almost gurgling sound as her entire body jolted. This time, she couldn’t control her moans, letting them escape as I drove myself deep inside her. Her lips parted, her moan growing louder as I worked her over.

Slowly, I increased my pace, taking her over the edge several times, rapidly eclipsing human speed as my knot began to swell. It slammed against the entrance of her pussy time and time again, until with a growl I managed to force it in, tying us together.

A panting Lyanna lifted her head, looking at me with wide eyes as I finally started to cum, sending pulse after pulse of my seed deep into her womb. After a few moments, I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat, as I continued to flood her womb with my cum. By the time my knot deflated and I slid out of her, I'd pumped enough of my seed into her that I'd swear she had a swell to her stomach.

Satisfied, and hearing the sounds of voices in the distance, I left Lyanna in her fuck drunk state and bolted deeper into the forest. There was no hiding that she'd been well and truly fucked, meaning that by the standards of Westerosi nobility, she was soiled. With that fact, politics meant that she was no longer a suitable wife for a future Lord Paramount. Rhaegar may still crown her whatever the fancy tournament title was, but I had a different plan in mind for him.

Oh yes, things in Westeros were careening off the rails, it just needed a bit more of a push.