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The Crimson Bastard	By : The-One-Reborn Category: Naruto Crossovers > General Views: 104832 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. I am not making any sort of money from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
I made a mistake last chapter and I fixed it. Nero Rivers is born from Robert Baratheon and Irena TULLY, not Tyrell. That was a typing mistake. Here’s the second chapter. Surprised I got this out so quickly.
EDIT: Apparently there was an upload error, its fixed now. Enjoy.
#
Nero Rivers stood in the courtyard of Winterfell with Jon Snow. As usual it was grey, boring and from the looks of it a very long day. He saw Catelyn Stark breaking apart from the group that stood to greet the king, the man had yet to arrive. Nero’s eyes darted around, Bran wasn’t there and he sighed. Sometimes children could be overbearing. He began to take his leave.
“Where are you going?” Jon asked. His brother in bastardy looked sullen today, anyone would be if you were treated like shit on a day like this.
“Bran’s off climbing. It’ll be sometime before Lady Stark can get him to come down,” Nero explained and went about his way, “Don’t let anyone take my spot, I’d hate it if I couldn’t see the conqueror of a king with my own eyes.”
“Make haste. You may lose your head for disrespecting the King, Brother Nero.” To that Nero mockingly saluted to Brother Snow before going to find his little kitty cat. He had a long day ahead of him, and longer days if what his little kitten told him was true. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King, but more importantly the man who fostered Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon. Word from the capital was he died of a fever from his old age, he was even older than Catelyn’s father. Oh and he was married to Catelyn’s sister Lysa Tully—House Tully’s way of lending steel and men to the Rebellion. With him dead, the King, his Queen, his heirs and at least fifty people were coming to Winterfell. Catelyn told him exactly why.
Nero found it a bothersome deal. He was content living his quiet life in Winterfell. All he did was sloth around, fuck women and fight sometimes. Perhaps there was an adventure beyond the Wall, but that time was not here yet. There was no fun in squashing whatever he felt forming far beyond into the treacherous North. Where tales of Others, Ice-Spiders, Giants, and undead lay.
Those thoughts vanished as soon as he found a frantic mother looking worriedly for her child. She maybe his whore, but it didn’t change the fact all five of her children were hers and Ned Stark’s. Still it was fun. Using her like that. Especially in moments like this. Oh well, why not?
Silently he got behind her and rubbed her ass tenderly over her clothes. She yelped a bit, but Nero grabbed her by the mouth and kissed her hungrily. He forced his raunchy tongue into her mouth, sliding it inside, overwhelming her senses with heated tongue-wrestling. He forced himself deeper and deeper into her mouth, like he was trying to penetrate her throat, all while making her gasp excitedly. Finally he stopped a bit, allowing her to breathe heavily. She looked so timid, and begging to be taken.
“Someone might see us,” was all Catelyn could say before he lifted her up and kissed her passionately again, this time resting against a wall as she moaned into his mouth. For minutes this went on and Nero knew should he continue he would be in a full-blown lusty mood that only sex could solve. He stopped and she looked almost upset that he did. “Go on.” She pleaded.
“Too risky, Kitty,” he explained giving her one last kiss. “We need to find Bran first. You stay here, I’ll go look for him.”
“Alright,” Catelyn Stark watched him walk at a fast pace one could consider running for some. A short while later she followed and found Nero Rivers gracefully hiking a tower as if he were running across it.
He’s so…good at everything, it was absurd at first watching someone like Nero be the way he was. She knew who he was, whose son he was; Robert’s handsomeness shone into his face along with the blue Baratheon eyes, but it was Irena’s features that sparkled on him most. His dark red hair was usually wild, unkempt and along with his beard gave him a ferocious look, one which moistened the hole between her legs along with his witty and charming words.
Today his hair was more tamed, swept back to appease the king and face clean-shaven. His features carved by the Gods themselves, he looked every bit the part knights and princes of songs were. It didn’t end there.
Nero Rivers was monstrously strong—no doubt inherited from his father. Ser Rodrik Cassel had said the boy needed no more training with a sword by this twelfth nameday. Eddard Stark had allowed him to forge swords to suit his form of swordplay.
However, it was one he was a lad of ten and three when he had stained his steel with the color of death. Nine wildlings had made it past the Wall, the Night’s Watch was undermanned and a shade of its former self, they could not tend to all the castles. The company was a growing concern until Nero Rivers had stumbled on to them in the Wolfswood; Jory Cassel and a few others witnessed what the boy did and by the time he finished all of the North knew him as the Crimson Bastard. The knights said he had become more beast than man in battle. Like a wolf hunting game, Nero had not even been wearing armor when he finished them all. He was a man long before he took her. As her thoughts ended, the sound of feet hitting the ground wrought her out of thought; Nero scaled down just as easily with Bran on his back. Now it was time for Catelyn to be the mother she was. She would be her prince’s whore later.
“Bran,” she started mercilessly, Nero made a sound that only made Bran squirm more. “What have I told you about climbing?”
“I saw the king!” Young Bran Stark fended himself. “He’s got hundreds of people!”
“Hundreds?” Nero looked a bit skeptical. Surely the man didn’t need a hundred guards. Fifty would be enough. Who would be mad enough to—Oh right. Duskendale.
“Yes,” Bran continued trying to get off topic, “He’s coming down our road. He’s almost here!” The excitement in his voice was amazing. Reminded him of the times when Naruto would shout in awe of a new technique. Then again, Naruto always screamed at everything.
“Brandon Stark,” she sternly stated, “no more climbing. I want you to promise me.” When the immediate answer did not come Lord Hoster Tully’s daughter dressed him down further. Men of Westeros had their swords to cut down things they didn’t like, the women had their words and Catelyn’s words could be chilling when she wanted it. More wolf in her than fish, but definitely more of Nero inside her than anything else.
Finally after a while the small storm receded. Bran, child that he was, looked down at his feet, said, “I promise.”
“He’s lying, isn’t he?” Catelyn asked Nero that. Being the honest bastard he was, he nodded.
“What?” Bran asked, pretending to be confused.
“You look at your feet when you lie, Bran,” Nero explained and ruffled his hair, the young one hated that and Nero enjoyed it. “Don’t worry, Lady Stark. If he does climb, I’ll bring him down. Safely.”
“Very well, go on and tell your father the king is close,” she motioned for Bran to go and the lad scurried away at a fast pace, while Lady Stark and Nero followed. Of course he had slapped her ass one more time just for fun.
Soon enough they were back with the group and Nero was trying his best to lift Jon’s mood. It wasn’t long before the bastards held back their laughter remembering Theon’s embarrassment at the brothel. Jon Snow—ever the Ned Stark whose integrity was more stronger than Valyrian steel—was too honorable to go the full distance, but laughed his arse off when the whore ran out of the room saying Theon had puked during his first, the Greyjoy insisted on this word, ‘raid’. Well he did raid the privy later.
“How are you doing?” Jon asked, some seriousness in his tone. “You seem wary.”
“I’m fine, Jon,” Nero explained. “I assure you.”
“Your assurance is confusing sometimes,” Jon pointed out. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Like I said, I’m fine, and besides, they’re here,” Nero saw the doors of Winterfell open and in rode the Kingsguard, in their trail the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. His half-brother. He looks more Lannister than Baratheon, Nero at the very least expected him to share the same blue eyes as his; all he could see was a fleeting mane of gold and chiseled jade in his eyes. A knight wearing a hound’s helm stayed by the prince’s side. Sandor Clegane, famously known as the Hound in some circles. He seemed an interesting fellow. Looked like a walking talking mental case that could best be described as violent version of Hodor, but still interesting.
As this happened, Nero felt someone was scooting past him: a midget with a helm. He held the culprit by the shoulder. “Jon, am I dreaming?”
“I wish you were,” Jon took the helm off the midget and there stood Arya, looking angry. “Go on. You’ll thank us later.”
“I’ll bite you both later,” the little she-wolf sneered at them.
“I’ll be honest, I am terrified right now,” Nero admitted and Jon shook his head, chuckling. More riders with banners charged in, all of them whipped back and forth with the northern winds, holding the colors of the royal house: black stags on gold and, surprisingly, golden lions on red; usually it was the King’s House the colors were hoisted for. Nonetheless, Baratheon and Lannister. What an odd duo. Though it was well known that Steffon, his grandfather, was friends with Tywin Lannister and Aerys II Targaryen, before madness ate his mind. Perhaps that friendship carried on into this day. Joffrey rode up and Nero saw Sansa smile at the Prince, Arya retched while Robb glared.
Finally the royal carriage appeared and a black horse raced past it, flanked by two more Kingsguard. The man with the crown arrived. All knelt, Nero too, but he kept his eyes focused on the man he’d heard tales about.
Robert Baratheon. King of the Seven Kingdoms, the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar, Lord Paramount, and Protector of the Realm. The man who led a rebellion, a man who was sung about more than he could count; the slayer of the last dragon, the man who defied a dynasty, the wielder of the legendary war hammer that molded history stepped down from the warhorse.
Well, that’s a massive fucking disappointment. Tall and burly, the man strode forward. He motioned with his hand for all to rise and rise they did. A king’s command was absolute.
“You’ve got fat.”
Okay, that was better, Nero smiled to himself. At least the man has a sense of humor. Ned Stark stared at his stomach and the friends embraced and laughed, words between friends broke off between them as Robert Baratheon met the Stark children.
“He looks a bit like you,” Jon whispered to him. “Just fatter.”
“Yes, he has such magnificent red hair, doesn’t he?,” Nero pointed out. “That and the wit. You’re about as cheerful as Lord Stark, and rigid too.”
“I won’t deny that,” Jon said with squinted eyes. “Here come the rest.”
A Queen in the North. Cersei Lannister, daughter of Tywin, considered to be the most beautiful woman in Westeros, stepped out into the grounds of Winterfell. He certainly saw the appeal; golden curls were braided beautifully, cheekbones that screamed royalty, emerald eyes shone dangerously and a figure that no doubt turned many a head in court. Just for a moment he noticed her eyes being drawn towards him, with hatred and disgust. Oh, the hate boner is getting to me. He looked back, defiantly, and smiled. Immediately she looked away. She was in the North now. You maybe the Queen, but here I’m God.
“Wasn’t there supposed to be an Imp?” Jon asked, thankfully making him break gaze with the Queen. His brother in bastardy asked a good question.
“He’s one of the reasons why I decided to stand here,” Nero answered. It was true. Everyone in all the Seven Kingdoms knew of Tyrion Lannister. Nero could relate, being infamous from the day you were born. He supposed Naruto and Tyrion had that in common, both were seen as demons by society and both were treated like shit. Though rumor was Tyrion Lannister was quite the clever man, and filthy rich. Rich and clever men, now those were people Nero wanted to keep an eye on.
“Where’s he going?” Jon, again, asked. The King said something to Cersei, she looked mollified. Eyes now green with envy, and disdain, followed Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark and to wherever the hell they were going. Jon Snow himself answered, “The Crypt.”
“What an adamant man,” Nero commented. Everyone knew why Robert’s Rebellion happened, and Winterfell stood on top of what remained of her. As the greetings and lines broke, the royal family was escorted into the sacred seat of the First Men, the Knights were clamoring about, the bastards stood together until all the guests had disappeared. “Thank the Gods that’s over. Now I can go and pluck a rose.”
“Where are you going?” Jon Snow asked him as Nero was walking off towards his horse, a powerful white steed he named Valkyrie. Many had laughed at the bizarre name, the laughs died when he beat everyone in racing. “Lord Stark told us to stay here. He may have need of us.”
“We’re bastards, Jon,” Nero turned and laughed, “nobody ever wanted us.”
#
She’d seen the little lord of Lannister. The dwarf of a man wasn’t as ugly as everyone had screamed about. He had his flaws, not the best looking man, but a Lannister still—his coin was gold, his hair was gold, his tongue was gold.
However, today was special. Not because the king arrived, but because he would. She took a sip of wine. She heard the neigh of a horse she knew well. Fixing her hair she stood a few feet straight away from the door, her small clothing all she had.
The door opened and the scarlet harlot smiled. He walked in and she thought he couldn’t look nicer. Hair slicked back, clean shaven, her… he walked in. That’s all that matters, she told herself. Closing the door and their distance, the young tall man looked at her with hunger in his eyes.
She could feel the intensity and desire he was letting out, he wanted to to ravage her for all she was worth and Ros herself wanted him to. Nero Rivers fucked her every time like it was his last.
“So m’lord, how can I be of service to you today?” Ros. Another bastard born from the Gods know who. Some say she was half Wildling, kissed by fire her hair was. Some say her mother was a great whore of the North. It didn’t matter, she was a woman in a cruel world and this kept food in her stomach.
“I think you do,” Nero said and kissed her. She kissed back.
A raw burning desire inside her made her arms wrap around his neck, she hopped up legs tied around his torso. Their tongues warred, but Nero won. He was exploring her mouth with his tongue and soon enough they were in bed, he tore off her small clothes and took his own off.
She admired the chiseled frame he had, ones that stone masons only dreamed of carving and of course, the little monster he carried in his pants. It was big, hot and twitching. Her own snatch was heated too, moistening more and more with sweet temptation and anticipation.
He kissed her and massaged her breasts, squeezing one nipple while fondling the other breasts. His lips separated from hers, a thin line of saliva faded as Ros breathed out of bliss.
She felt a few of his fingers go inside her. Steadily, rhythmically they went in and out. She was growing wetter and hotter around his digits with embarrassing quickness, moans pushing against his lips as they refused to part with each other.
He stopped for a second and licked his fingers, taking in her taste. This only made her lust grow. “What are you waiting for, m’lord?”
“Look at me,” he commanded her and Ros did so. She’d never seen the sea, only heard tales of it. But she liked to think they were as blue as his eyes. “Say my name.”
“Nero.”
“Say what you want.”
“Fuck me, Nero.” Strong hands firmly clasped around her hips. She whined a little as she felt the monster slowly going inside her. She leaned back against the bed and twisted happily. They groaned in unison as the slow forward penetration made his cock sink deep into her aching snatch, stretching her out as he’d done so many times before.
"So good," she said, shuddering as he went in further, the feeling of being filled made her tremble and shiver. It felt amazing, and was made only better by the way that he looked at her, the ravenous stare that seemed to overwhelm her shivering body. She began to move under him matching his rhythm as Nero began to slowly but surely quicken his thrusts. “OH! OH! OHH!”
The tight grip on her hips helped guide her back and forth, urging her quicker and more desperate as he stared at every sweet, delicious inch of her body. Nero loved the way her perky, modest breasts bounced as the back and forth of her body grew quicker and more desperate.
There was a deep appreciation for everything he was watching her do, and it only swelled with each moment as he throbbed inside of her amazingly hot, wet pussy, stretched open by his cock. Ros’ moans grew louder turning into hushed screams as Nero kept pounding into her.
Every thrust was vicious and made Ros’ eyes roll back as the crimson haired man sped up. He could feel her squeezing the hell out of his cock with passion.
Shifting her around in bed a bit, Nero’s cock stabbed her inner walls and Ros felt him touch something deep inside her. By the Gods she was tight! The redhead’s mind was in ecstasy.
Whatever gentleness he had when they started was long gone as he fucked her mercilessly and Ros soon began to scream and moan his name. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, tightly as she could as she came again and again. The bed creaked as he took her like a beast, her nails leaving red marks across his back.
He then pulled his cock out for a moment before proceeding to slam his hips into hers, making her eyes go wide and teary from the sensations of the full length of his cock going deeper into her. She screamed at the top of her voice, from the sensation, as he repeated the tactic, disengaging his cock and then thrusting it in again at full speed.
She yelled like a mad woman to fuck her to death. His hand moved to her breast, squeezing it tightly and he kissed her once more before breaking it a while later. It was brutal and painful, and she loved it!
“Harder! Please!”
She begged and stooped to lower levels. Her mind couldn’t handle the ferocious fucking. Somehow he was able to force himself deeper and deeper into her and Ros was lost. She felt him fucking her still like beasts in the wild, her mind however could only focus on his eyes. Her mouth hung open, tongue lulled out as she uncontrollably drooled and all that mattered in the world to her was him.
She couldn’t remember how many times he’d made her reach her moment of climax. He kissed her again bringing her back to the world and she felt him hammering his hips against her own. Faster and harder and stronger his cock throbbed inside her.
Finally, he unloaded himself into her. She felt her insides warmly greeting his seed inside her. Slowly he unsheathed from her and lay by her side as she felt the warm spunk inside her leak out. There was so much flowing out of her, staining the sheets.
Ros out of breath drew close to him. Her entire body was covered by a sheen of sweat as she tried to tie up her loose red hair. She couldn’t. How could she be so quickly worn out? Then she felt his hands on her shoulders and she shivered a bit. They went to her head and swiftly tied up her hair like she kept it.
“I didn’t know you could braid, m’lord,” Ros said, smiling at him as he shrugged.
“I didn’t either, now I do,” Nero replied and pulled her closer as their naked bodies tightly clung to each other. He always did this after fucking her like an animal. Treated her like she was a…
“So how was the King?” Ros asked. She knew the truth about him. Nero himself told her once she was having a small moment of crisis.
“Fat,” Nero said. He looked disappointed, “You’d think that Robert Baratheon would look like how he was told of in songs.”
“And the rest?” Ros ran her fingers across his chest. “I hear the Queen’s the most beautiful woman in the country.”
“She is beautiful, but,” he ran a hand across her hair and stuck his thumb inside her mouth. Ros gracefully sucked on it. “I like you more.”
“I’m a whore, m’lord,” she reminded him, and herself.
“And I’m a bastard,” he said. He then looked at her intrigued. “I heard Tyrion Lannister is here.”
She hummed and nodded. “The Little Lord is here and asked for me. But I had a different man in mind for today.”
“Are you saying you gave up Lannister gold for me?” Ros got up on top of him and kissed him. It was more gentle this time. More serene.
“M’lord,” she bit his ear, “all the gold in the world couldn’t keep me away from you.” It was all she could say before Nero had taken her once again and he fucked her until it was nearing dusk. When he left after paying her, she found he’d left a gift. A necklace of gold that looked too regal for her to wear and a letter along with it.
For my Red Queen.
#
The halls of Winterfell buzzed with the loud clamoring accompanied by the strings of bards and clattering of mugs. For the first time in a long time the hold of House Stark was celebrating something. They’d been through much and now the King himself was here. All was good here tonight.
“Give me another one.”
Well, almost everything. Nero looked at the sullen fellow beside him: a spitting image of a younger Eddard Stark—drunk, disgruntled, decadent. He drank another one down. Nero had stopped counting after two.
“Jon,” he clasped the bastard’s shoulder, “you might want to drink a bit less.”
“Are you afraid?” Jon asked, eyes heavy with liquor and disappointment.
“Only if you puke it out and piss yourself,” Nero explained. “I understand. I’m here, am I not?”
“You’re the only one who does,” Jon drank again. The two bastards of Winterfell sat far away from Starks. Catelyn had insisted they sit far from the royal family; Nero himself didn’t mind, after all he was a bastard despite the fact that the lady wife of Lord Stark was his personal cum sock.
“Exactly,” Nero patted him. “Come let’s get you out of here.”
“Where to?”
“Outside, tonight’s pretty warm.”
“Warmer than Lady Stark’s heart of stone for sure.” Jon Snow got up and was ushered out by his brother in bastardy. It wasn’t long before he’d escorted Snow out of the halls and into the sparring grounds. Jon Snow insisted on some alone time, Nero complied. He was good at brooding. That and Nero wanted a bit more wine. Stepping back into the hall he held back his laughter as he watched Arya fling food at Sansa, smearing her cheek good. Robb didn’t hold back as he Theon and a bunch of others openly laughed. Catelyn looked at Robb, the boy still smiled and picked up Arya as they left. Sansa was no doubt enflamed, her cheeks reddened and made her look like a tomato. She left soon with Jeyne Poole.
Nero enjoyed little things like this. It wasn’t bad really, once he thought about it. He was content with his life here and—
“So, you’re the bastard.”
Turning around he saw a man looking at him with a sly smirk, golden hair and jaded eyes. He looked more a king than his father ever did.
“That I am,” Nero Rivers bowed a bit. “Ser Jaime.”
“Ser, is it?” the man looked interested. “Is that what they call me here in the North? I was aware that Lord Stark is not fond of me. Surely he’d tell his own ward the same.”
“Lord Stark is not fond of you. I’ve never heard him speak about you.”
“And you never asked? Never curious?”
“You killed a mad man who burned men alive,” Nero explained. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
Jaime Lannister laughed, it was true and loud. Nero saw how the Queen’s eyes slowly observed them and moved away. Lord Stark too noticed them. “Finally someone in this frozen savage land that can jest. And someone raised by Ned Stark no less.”
“My Lord does have wit,” Nero defended the Lord of Winterfell.
“I doubt that,” Jaime Lannister tapped his shoulders, “but this was interesting. I had a talk with Ser Rodrik today. When I asked him who was the best fighter they had he mentioned Lord Stark, of course. Then he spoke not of himself, or the heir, or any other lord or knight. He spoke of you. Nero Rivers. The Crimson Bastard.”
“It is who I am,” Nero saw Ned Stark heading on his way to himself and the Kingslayer. It was best for him to leave. “It was an honor meeting you, Ser Jaime.”
“I wish I could say the same,” the Lannister offered. “But you are interesting. Maybe I shall call for you a spar.”
“Oh we shouldn’t do that.”
“Afraid?”
“You were Ser Arthur Dayne’s squire,” Nero said, he saw a flicker of nostalgia in the Kingslayer’s eyes. “The Sword of the Morning knighted you for a reason, oathbreaker or not. You served alongside Sers Gerold Hightower, Jonothor Darry, Oswell Whent and Prince Lewyn Martell. You and Ser Barristan are all that remain of the deadliest Kingsguard in history. So you’ll excuse me if a green boy like me does not want to cross swords with someone like you.” He lied and praised the mere mortal in front of him. They were nothing compared to him. He wouldn’t even need a sword to destroy them all, yet he played along. He loved how the green eyes of the Lion of Lannister slowly shot some respect at him. All that aside, this world did fascinate him. So much history, so much lore. He was almost glad he was reborn.
“You’ve studied well about the Kingsguard.”
“Ser Jaime,” Nero smiled, “there are knights and then there are knights.”
“Well said,” Jaime Lannister smiled at him and took his leave. Nero sighed a bit as he was greeted by Ned Stark and surprisingly Benjen Stark. Now that was a man he hadn’t seen in years. The First Ranger and a true man of the Night’s Watch. Ever the honorable Eddard Stark questioned him and warned him to not mingle with the Lannisters too much, specifically the Kingslayer. After convincing the Starks he left and went outside to see Jon again. He found the solemn bastard being himself. Jon Snow looked to be beating the wooden man with all the rage he had. Viciously and swiftly the strikes fell. There was a raw passion to it.
Yet despite his looks, there was something not so Stark about him. A rage inside him that didn’t fit well. Perhaps it was the Wolfsblood in him, Starks did have a bit of a wild side.
“Excellently done, Snow,” Nero strode forward stopping the young man from tiring himself out too much. “You’ve managed to drain out all the good that wine did. Do you feel proud?”
“I feel better,” Jon answered back, his breaths labored and heavy. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”
“You really are too much like Eddard Stark.” Nero took the wooden sword and placed it away. He tapped the Northern bastard’s shoulder. “Come on let’s go inside before you freeze your arse out here.”
“I won’t freeze,” Jon added. “I am the North.”
“Well said,” again the familiar words had a familiar tune. Nero and Jon looked at the intruder. Short, ugly, mismatched eyes, and a pudgy way of walking. The greatest shame of Tywin Lannister walked towards them with a grin of a child, and the eyes of a hawk. “Not every day you meet people who accept who they are. Most people need to be wrung from their follies.”
“Lord Tyrion,” Nero greeted him. “Its a pleasure to meet you.” He and Jon nodded their heads towards him.
“A pleasure to meet me? The Imp?”
“Aye,” Jon said, “you’re short. You’re still a lord and a Lannister.”
The small man laughed. “A bunch of young, handsome men who actually enjoy meeting a dwarf. What’s next? Dragons coming back?”
“We’re not insulting you, my lord,” Jon clarified. “You’re a guest of Winterfell, and you are the son of a Warden. We will respect you as such. And you are the Queen’s brother.”
“I do wish everyone in the world was thick as you two,” Tyrion Lannister chuckled a bit before focusing his eyes on Jon. “And you, you must be Ned Stark’s bastard.” Jon tightened his fist a bit, the Imp did not miss. “I’m sorry. I offended you.”
“Lord Stark is my father,” Jon Snow left it at that.
“And Lady Stark is not your mother,” Tyrion pointed out, “which makes you a bastard.”
“How enlightening,” Nero added his two cents.
“And another bastard,” Tyrion said, the man’s eyes gleamed with interest. “One who looks more like a prince than my own nephew if I dare to say myself.” Jon Snow passed Nero a look, the Imp did not miss.
“Well, not all of us are meant to have golden hair and green eyes,” Nero said, his smile as cold as winter. “And besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a bastard.”
“That is true,” Tyrion said and started to take a few steps, “Remember this bastards: never be ashamed of who you are. The world will always remind you, so wear it like armor.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Nero said and the Imp was on his way back to the warm halls of Winterfell. Jon still drunk decided to speak.
“What do you know about being a bastard?”
The dwarf stopped and turned. There was wisdom and regret in his eyes. “All dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes.”
#
Nero had changed into more normal clothes once he entered his room. Tomorrow the King would go out hunting, good for him. He wanted to avoid Robert Baratheon. There was a sense of discord there and besides, it would be a controversy if he did anything. Not that the King could do anything about it. It was the Starks he cared about.
It was funny to Yami, this life he had. In his past life, he was part of Naruto Uzumaki who craved for family and attention. An orphan with no one. Yami was an orphan (of sorts) here too, but christened Nero Rivers and raised by a man who treated him like any father would their child, he had foster siblings he grew up with. He was no saint, by no means. A part of him wanted chaos to reign, just to see what would happen across the Seven Kingdoms. Dare he say it, family had made him soft.
A knock at his door broke him from his thoughts. “Who is it?”
“Nero,” a soft feminine voice spoke back, “its me.”
“Come in,” Nero replied and in walked Jeyne Poole. Jeyne was around Sansa’s age, but unlike Catelyn’s oldest daughter she was very forward and already lost her maidenhead to Nero a couple of months ago. She was a petite pretty thing. Her appearing wasn’t so much of a surprise, but the person accompanying her was. Sansa Stark entered alongside Jeyne and Nero’s eyes furrowed together. Nero, like with all the other Stark children and Jon and even Theon, was close to Sansa.
When she was younger she’d often make him give piggyback rides. Then as she grew and became more ladylike Sansa’s demeanor changed. It wasn’t cold or distant, it just changed.
“My ladies,” he greeted, a bit confused. “Lovely as it is to see you, I’d hoped you’d be in the Hall still.”
“The celebrations are still going on,” Sansa began, avoiding meeting his eyes. “I’m here, I mean we are here because…” she looked at Jeyne. The girl smiled and Sansa’s cheeks grew red, enflamed as her hair.
“She wants some help, Nero,” Jeyne explained.
“With what? I’m not going to assist you in stitching,” Nero never wanted to take those lessons again. He only learned them so he could learn to stitch wounds if it ever came up. Septa Mordane was so impressed she insisted he take more lessons. That old hag.
“Oh Nero,” Jeyne said as she sat down on his bed, her eyes filled with hunger and licking her lips to make them look glossy, “she needs help somewhere else. It was like the help I needed.” Jeyne was, like Catelyn, a lab rat only she got a much more refined dose of his technique. Whereas Catelyn was simply a slave to him, Jeyne’s one was a bit more complicated allowing her certain freedoms but still ultimately had the most desire for him and his commands. Layers and layers.
“You can’t be serious,” Nero looked at Jeyne and then back at Sansa who was still blushing up a storm. “Sansa, what brought this up?”
Sansa composed herself for a second before speaking. “I am going to be Queen one day,” she blushed a bit more, “and have Joffrey’s children. But in order for me to do that I… I just want to prepare…a bit.” She spoke no more and Nero hummed in thought. Nero had no qualms in fucking a young girl, especially one as pretty as Sansa. She looked like her mother, and Catelyn often said how her daughter would be much prettier than her one day. But tonight was risky. Too risky.
“Sansa, are you sure?” he asked. A meek nod was all he got. “Have you bled yet?”
“Just this morning,” Jeyne said. “Sansa’s a woman now.”
“I see,” Nero said before locking his door. It was a hinge he made personally. “But I can’t bed you tonight now can I? You’ve bled for the first time, and no doubt your screams will alert everyone in Winterfell. Especially the prince.” She blushed and squirmed a bit at those words. “So, we’ll have to do something else. Jeyne.” He got on the bed and Jeyne Poole all but jumped on him, kissing him like it was her last night on this world.
Sansa watched with curiosity in her eyes as her friend was kissing Nero. She’d always thought him handsome, today he looked more charming than usual. She remembered practicing kissing him with him a few years back. But this was different. Whereas she shared a kiss that was nothing more than vague interest, Jeyne and Nero seemed as if they were trying to make love as the tongues warred. No, Nero was the one winning. He was on top of Jeyne, groping her breasts over her clothes, shoving his tongue down her mouth. This went on for some time before Jeyne crawled down from the bed and helped Nero take off his pants. Sansa almost gasped.
She knew how children were made, she knew of the pain one felt during the first time, but this…this did not make sense. It was huge, his meat. Was it supposed to be that big?
“Sansa,” Jeyne said rubbing her cheek against the thing between Nero’s legs. “This is a cock. A true man’s cock.” She kissed the side of it. “And today you’re going to learn how to kiss this.”
“What?” she was taken aback. Kiss a man’s penis? That didn’t make sense. Plus they were filthy. They were meant to go through her rosebud, not her mouth. “How can you…” the words died in her mouth as she watched Jeyne, sweet Jeyne, her friend Jeyne, kissed his cock. She used her tongue to slide it along the length of the shaft. She kept suckling on the dark purple head like it was a gift. Jeyne opened her mouth and pushed her head down slowly on the little monster.
Sansa watched with fascination as her breath slowly hitched a bit. Jeyne was slowly taking the cock in her mouth and throat as she pumped him with her hand. Back and forth her head rose up and down as she took whatever she could of his cock. It was too big for Jeyne, she could tell. Yet Jeyne’s eyes looked so dreamy when she did so. Some tears formed at the edge, but she was smiling insipidly. Her drool was coating his manhood giving it a glaze and Sansa felt like her throat dry up. Her heart was beating nervously and below something else was beating too.
She almost gasped when he pulled it out of her and smacked it across her cheek. He did it again, harsher this time as he smacked her nose and with his fleshy rod.
“You greedy girl,” Nero held her by the cheeks, “aren’t you going to let Sansa have a go?”
“You’re right,” Jeyne said almost hypnotically. She looked at her Sansa with glassy eyes. “Sansa, come,” Jeyne rubbed her cheeks against the hardened member, “have a taste.”
“I don’t want to,” Sansa felt shy and worried. She was afraid. Then she saw Nero get up and walk towards her. Her chest felt like it was going to explode. She couldn’t describe what she was feeling and then she felt his thumb slowly caress her lower lip.
“Calm down,” he assured her. She believed him and felt his own lips upon her. She closed her eyes and kissed back. Soft, slow, and gentle, the kiss was making her slowly excited. His hands stroked her cheeks and she opened her eyes after the kiss ended. Nero smiled at her, his features grew immensely more handsome. “Was that so hard?”
“No,” she blushed and felt something rigid against her legs. She looked at the organ that was rock hard. There was a smell coming from it. It was bizarre fragrance. “Will I have to…”
“Ah Sansa,” he kissed her again, this time his lips pressed more hardly and she let him press her against the wall. She opened her mouth to breath, and felt his tongue invade her mouth. It massaged against her own tongue. Gods! She had no idea what to do, yet somehow she found a rhythm. He suckled on her lower lips, biting it lightly. His hands now made it to her hips, pulling her closer as Sansa, sweet young Sansa was becoming overwhelmed with his touch. They stopped after a while and Sansa with glossy eyes was disappointed it ended. “Did you like that?”
She was a bit hesitant. Thoughts of Joffrey entered her mind. The handsome young prince, her future husband. She would be Queen one day. One day. But not tonight, she thought to herself. “Yes.” The way he smiled was almost devilish and made her tingle.
“Come,” he guided her to the bed where he sat down and beckoned for Sansa to get on her knees. Again, she was reluctant at first, but then she got down on her knees as her face drew closer to his cock. “Go on touch it.” She did. Her fingers ran along the length and then lightly clasped around it.
So warm, she thought. Taking a leaf out of Jeyne’s book she kissed it. She did so on the side, the head, the base. The smell of it was making her hands shake a bit. What did it taste like? Curiosity ran through her mind as she opened her mouth and took the bulb in her mouth. Her tongue circled around the solid tip as she licked and licked and licked.
“Good girl,” Nero told her and patted her head. Sansa felt proud, oddly enough. “Now, let’s go a bit deeper. Trust me.” She did and she felt his cock explore her mouth as she took more of it in. She began to pick up her speed. Her head went back and forth until she coughed when it entered her throat. But she didn’t stop. On and on it went until she took it out of her mouth to catch her breath. Jeyne jumped on the cock and sucked it as Sansa watched her friend gobble it like a treat. After a while it was her turn again, and she repeated her actions only taking more of his meat in her mouth. She and Jeyne kept going at it, Sansa become less shy with each mouthful. Finally, Nero stood up and began to pump his cock.
“Sansa,” he said, she was still on her knees as he made her look at him. “Stick out your tongue.” She did, as did Jeyne and then white spunk came out from his cock. It landed on her face, her lips, her tongue and Jeyne’s as well. It was hot, sticky and smelly. She tasted it and swallowed it. It was so odd, it was so…good. “You did well, Sansa. You did very well.”
“Thank you, Nero,” she blushed at his words and wiped the jizz off her face. Her fingers were laced with it and desiring it a bit more, she sucked on them. Her embarrassment came back.
“Sansa, looks like you like this is as much as lemon cakes,” Jeyne teased her and Sansa looked like a tomato.
“Hush, Jeyne,” Nero put on his pants at last, “Sansa did very well for her first time. I’m impressed. You nearly fell unconscious, do you remember?”
“Yes, but that was before you took my maidenhead.”
“We should leave,” Sansa said, she became more aware of how late it was becoming. She couldn’t believe how long she’d been in here. “Mother might look for me.”
“Go, before they catch us all,” Nero japed before unlocking the door. Jeyne left first and Sansa was about to leave before she felt Nero pull her back inside once more. His hand wrapped around her stomach as the other slowly rubbed her breast. She moaned as she felt a tingling warmth spread inside her body. She felt his hot breath on her ear. “You know, I have half a mind to steal you from Joffrey.”
“He’s the Prince,” the young girl said as she felt him lick her earlobe. She leaned back into him. “He’d come after you.”
“I’d like to see him try,” Nero stopped and Sansa faced him with a red face. “Go before someone catches us.” She nodded, but then stopped. Then Sansa Stark kissed him lightly on the lips before leaving in a hurry. Nero closed the door and lay on his bed. He laughed a bit to himself. Who would’ve thought? Him and Sansa. A part of him knew she would one day grow up to be beautiful, but this was a bit quick. He’d already cast his genjutsu on her. Some may think him
After an hour or so Nero found himself slowly falling asleep out of boredom.
#
The King, Lord Stark and a number of Kingsguard along with other knights left Winterfell. Robert Baratheon had a mind to hunt and nobody defied the king. It was a good morning. Nero went and fucked Catelyn in her room, broke his fast with Jon and now strolled through the keep of Winterfell.
Apparently there had been a scuffle in the morn, something about Prince Joffrey wanting to use live steel when Tommen and Bran were having a mock spar. Apparently, Tommen Baratheon was a horrible warrior and the crown prince had shamed him with harsh words. Robb had been positively pissed, even Theon. Royal right prick indeed, Nero mused and wondered why he and his half-siblings were so…different.
Sure, he was hatred reborn, but still. He could tell his lust for women were inherited from Robert and amplified by the lack of action Naruto never got when he was still feeding off of him, why were they so bizarre?
Nero Rivers, as usual, found himself yawning. He didn’t usually get to this part of the day this early. Maybe he’d go out and spend some time with Ros. He had nothing better to do here then he was assaulted…by puppies. The Direwolf pups had taken a liking to him, all of them.
“Ah, let go of me, little runts,” he said, but Grey Wind and Lady refused. Shaggydog and Nymeria nipped at his hands. Ghost was probably with Jon. Rickon and Arya laughed at him as the pups showered him with affection. “What’s so funny?”
Rickon Stark answered him, “You, Nero. You’re the best knight we have, but Shaggydog beat you.”
“I’m not a knight,” Nero corrected him.
“Yet you mean,” Arya’s eyes gleamed. “When you become a knight, do you think I can become your squire?”
“Lady Stark would have my head on a pike,” well he would actually have her head, but in a different way of course. He noticed something odd. “Where’s Summer?”
“With Bran,” Rickon told him, the pups finally left him. “Bran said Summer would look out for him.” The boy immediately shut his mouth.
“Look out for him?” Nero asked. He proceeded to tickle Rickon until the young boy was laughing and crying. “Where’s Bran?”
“He’s climbing! Hahahaha! Stop it, Nero!” Nero conceded and told the children to go. Honestly, sometimes Bran Stark had no limits. The royal family was here and he was off climbing the Gods know which tower. Then he heard a scream. It echoed in his ears and he knew exactly whose voice it was. Bran, Nero rushed towards where he last heard the scream. Summer was howling. Soon Nero arrived. Bran Stark lay prone on the floor beside one of Winterfell’s towers and immediately he summoned chakra in his hands. Summer looked wary, whimpering at the Crimson Bastard.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he told the direwolf before he ran it across Bran’s legs, waist, spine, arms, torso, chest, neck and finally his head. It was then that Nero saw the world around him disappear.
He was floating in the dark. He heard the caw of a raven. Yet he couldn’t find him. Then he saw it. A raven, dark as night, with three eyes, fearfully cawing at him. It flew away and then he saw it.
The Wall. Beyond the Wall. The Land of Always Winter. The Narrow Sea. Valyria. He saw the Doom. He saw three dragons land in Westeros. Dragons dancing with death in the sky. He saw black fires raging. Nine kings squabbling for pennies. A mad man laughing on a throne.
Then he saw an eye watching him from the dark. Then another. And more. A thousand eyes watched him. And amidst all this he heard a voice, “Who are you?”
Nero didn’t answer. He was trying to make sense of all this. “Just a bastard.”
“It’s always the bastards,” the voice said. Then he was back in Winterfell, Catelyn Stark was beside him holding Bran’s head in her lap, crying like a mother did. Arya and Rickon were weeping and Nero’s head hurt a bit.
I’m going to need a lot of wine.
#
For those still wondering what Nero looks like imagine Vergil from DMC V, with dark red hair and blue eyes.
Current harem: Catelyn, Ros, Jeyne, Sansa (work in progress).
Future harem: Melisandre, Arianne, Daenerys, Cersei, Missandei, Margaery, Val, Doreah, Shae, Taena Merryweather, Ellaria Sand, Tyene Sand.
Next chapter will come out, when it comes out. Read and review. See ya folks.
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The Crimson Bastard