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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
- 3
- 4
4^th chapter. What can I say? I’m on a bit of a roll. Also Arya is about almost 12 while Sansa is about 14. Wow, this fic is more messed up than I thought. Never thought I’d write about medieval lolis, but here we are. I kinda feel sickened, but hey…imaginary shit. Gonna kick myself in my spiritual nuts after this fic is done. Oh and about the harem. It’s going to be cut down. Those getting kicked out are Taena (not interesting), Val (no need for her), Doreah (same as Taena), Ellaria (lol, no) and Tyene (nobody needs your bad pussy).
Final harem: Ros, Catelyn, Sansa, Arya, Cersei, Melisandre, Missandei, Margaery, Arianne, Daenerys. Ten women are more than enough.
#
King’s Landing.
Where Aegon the Conqueror hammered one kingdom out of seven, where destiny was forged, where fates changed and blood flowed. Nero Rivers had only ever read about how the city was the apex of Westeros. Where the First Men, Andals and Rhoynar princes came to swear fealty.
The center of it all.
The first thing about King’s Landing that he noticed was not the Red Keep which lay beyond, not the Sept of Baelor that was blessed, certainly not the hills which made the city, but the smell of shit and piss in the air. The entire city reeked of it and Nero had half a mind to leave when he entered. Jaime Lannister looked indifferent, but relieved.
Perhaps the Lannister enjoyed such fragrances; a lot of bullshit did pour out of his mouth. The weather here was much warmer than he expected.
“So this is King’s Landing,” Shae, his companion and bedwarmer, was far more eager than him. “There’s more people than I thought.” She was right of course. Left and right, hordes of people were bustling about. The capital was filled to the brim with nobodies who were looking to make a fortune in this city. It was quite overrated in his humble opinion.
“Too many people,” Nero said as he ignored the people trying to sell him things, calling him a Lord and what not. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we were in Astapor.”
“You’ve been to Astapor?” Shae asked.
“Not yet. I’ve always wanted to see the Unsullied.”
“The Unsullied?” Jaime Lannister joined in. Battles fascinated the man from what Nero learned. “You want to cross the Narrow Sea to watch an army of cockless wonders thrusting their spears?”
Shae laughed at his jape and Nero shrugged. “You’re a Kingsguard, celibate for life. You’re no different than them.” Lannister smirked at him, as if he knew something Nero didn’t. The Crimson Bastard didn’t like it.
Soon, he and the Kingslayer were greeted by a score of guards. The City Watch, Nero assumed. They were the King’s men who kept vigilance in the city. Again, he assumed they weren’t doing a good job of it.
Soon after they were leaving the grimy area they entered and on their towards Aegon’s Hill. The repugnant smell was at last gone and the fresh smell of the sea entered his nares. Jaime Lannister stopped and Nero followed suit. He gave the bastard a look Nero didn’t quite understand.
“She’s not going inside,” the Lannister said it as if it were law.
“Why not?” Nero asked.
“You know why.”
“She’s going to serve as handmaiden to Lord Stark’s daughters,” Nero countered and Jaime shook his head.
“That wasn’t the deal we had,” the gold haired man rode a bit forward, “Besides, what would your Lord Stark think if he found out who you’re bringing with you?”
“What would Lord Stark think if I told him of your little spy game?” Nero said and Jaime looked at him with hard green eyes. He sighed. “I assure you Ser Jaime, nothing will happen that will cause either of us trouble.” For a moment Nero thought Jaime would tell the Goldcloaks to take Shae away. Nero had a solution for this problem too; two swords hung by his waist, very easy to draw and even easier to lop their heads off. That or genjutsu.
“Fine,” the Kingslayer relented, “but if anything happens, the blame falls on you.” Nero nodded and Shae looked almost excited that she was going to the place where royalty resided.
Nero had learned a fair deal about his wench in their journey. She was very smart; Shae knew which words to say to please someone and when to act the fool. The woman had a charm even Nero couldn’t deny. Of course there were things she said even he found a bit too much.
She had a fair bit of greed and envy in her, just enough that she would scorn him.
So being the kind man he was, he put his little jutsu on her too. Soft and Wet was perhaps the greatest jutsu in the history of all jutsu; he knew for certain that Jiraiya would’ve waged war for such a thing. Finally they arrived.
The Red Keep rather lived up to its name. Seven huge drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts, an immense grim barbican, vaulted halls and covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries, massive curtain walls studded with archers’ nests, all fashioned of pale red stone. Not as red as his hair, but still pretty red. Its construction began when Aegon had created his little dystopian kingdom, and completed when Maegor, his son, came to rule. Afterwards, Maegor the Cruel every stonemason, woodworker and builder who helped erect this place.
Rather harsh. They rode through one of the bronze doors of the Red Keep and Jaime Lannister looked at Nero Rivers.
“You’ll be going to Hand’s Tower from here,” the Kingslayer told him. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have a king to guard.” Nero wanted to tell him to try not to kill this one, but he’d probably be offended. Jaime Lannister probably didn’t approve much of his shenanigans. It didn’t matter. He had found out a very important thing about the Lannister. Now the question was how he would use it.
“This place looks lovely, m’lord,” Shae leaned against him. Nero had no problems; he was a bastard, it didn’t matter who he fucked. “I think I should thank you a bit more tonight.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of a few ways,” Nero assured her as they rode. Now it was their time to get down as well and Jory Cassel, captain of the Stark guards, stood there with a few men. “Jory, I see summer hasn’t managed to melt you yet.”
“We have ice in our veins, Nero. You do too,” Jory greeted him like he would any member of the Stark house. He looked at Shae and then at him. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“What? She’s a handmaiden,” Nero defended himself.
“Just because her hands get all over you doesn’t make her one.”
Shae laughed, it was sweet to all the men’s ears. “He has you there, m’lord.” Sooner than later they were off to their chambers and Shae was escorted to where the rest of the handmaidens where. Surprisingly she did not protest much as she did on the Kingsroad. She’d been quite vocal when he explained his plan to keep her in the castle, but he assumed Soft and Wet had already began to work its charm on her. Travelling to the Tower of the Hand, Nero made sure he looked presentable to Lord Stark as he knocked on the door.
“Enter,” the rigid Stark voice gave him permission. Eddard Stark looked older in his eyes. The man had a sheen of sweat over his forehead and a thousand books and letters sprawled out over his study. He smiled a little as he greeted the Crimson Bastard. “You took your time.”
“I was getting a handmaiden for Sansa and Arya,” immediately Lord Stark gave him a look. “You can’t blame me. Some of the ones you brought can’t handle the summer winds.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose,” the man said before sitting down, telling Nero to pour wine for both of them. Dornish wine, chilled and aged finely. It was a delight to taste. “I’ll feel a bit better with you around my daughters. Someone can keep an eye on them and keep them in line.” Lord Stark had no idea how much he could keep them in line.
“It will be my honor, my lord,” and dishonor on the parts of the Stark girls, but he didn’t need to know that. “My Lord, may I ask something?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I here?” Nero had been pondering on that question for some time now. “I did always want to take a look at the Red Keep, but not like this. Why did his Grace decide to bring me here? With a fellow Kingsguard no less.”
“Jaime Lannister is no true knight,” Eddard Stark said it in distaste. The animosity between him and the Kingslayer was very interesting. Always at odds with each other. “As for why his grace sent for you. I don’t know. Perhaps your little outburst the other day slighted the king.”
“For what?” Nero said it in uncaring fashion. “Making him realize what he is?”
“Nero,” Lord Stark looked at him with caution. “This isn’t Winterfell. You must be careful around here. Ears. Everywhere. Words here change as it passes along.”
“I understand,” Nero said. He then spoke again, “Did something happen on the Kingsroad, my lord?”
“Why do you ask that?” The Northerner had a bit of rage inside him at those words.
“I found Lady and Nymeria in the Riverlands,” Nero revealed. “Along with the butcher boy’s corpse hanging from a tree. What happened, my Lord?” And Eddard Stark, ever the honorable man he was, told him. The Warden of the North had always considered him akin to a son and told him the tale as he would to any of his family. He spoke of the skirmish between Arya and Joffrey, what Sansa attested, and how the Direwolves escaped before Lord Stark could execute them. How they escaped was still beyond him, but Joffrey wasn’t done there. Apparently the brat had offered gold for the direwolves’ skin. That little shit.
“I’m glad they escaped,” Lord Stark looked relieved after hearing that Nero had shooed the wolves to the North. “They belong in the North.”
“The direwolf is House Stark’s sigil. It’s fitting,” Nero began before revealing a dagger to Lord Stark. “Yet the South finds a way to harm the peace.” Eddard Stark observed the weapon.
“Valyrian steel,” he noted and admired the work that went into making the dagger. “It is a fine weapon, but you aren’t one for daggers,” he said as he handed it back to Nero.
“Aye,” Nero answered, “that’s because it’s not mine.” Now it was Nero’s turn to tell tale. Lord Stark looked shocked, but mostly angered that someone would try to take Bran’s life, especially after what he went through. Hearing Lady Stark’s conclusions about the Lannisters did not help either.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Eddard Stark confessed to him. “Why would the Lannisters want to kill Bran? He’s a child.”
“Same could be said for Rhaegar’s children,” Nero reminded him. “Yet they were given the taste of steel and heel.”
“Yes,” Lord Stark uttered the word with hate. “Lannisters can be ruthless, but they won’t do it without reason. Keep the dagger to yourself and don’t talk to anyone who seems too forward.”
“Even the women?”
“Especially the women,” Lord Stark told him. “You’ve already brought someone with you, haven’t you?”
“Shae,” Nero told him the name. “She’s from Essos I think.”
“She’s far from home,” Eddard Stark said before finishing his cup. “Be careful out there. Now off with you. Go. Rest.”
Nero stood up, but stopped before the door. “My Lord may I speak freely?”
“Yes.”
“This is not the North,” Nero told him. “I’ve never been here, but if my last few days with the Lannister taught me anything it’s this: do not trust them.”
“Has the Kingslayer done anything to you?”
“No, he’s been amiable. He’s a bit too clever sometimes,” Nero paused. “I’d like it if you’d act like that too.”
“You ask me to dishonorable?” Starks held honor closer to their chests than their hearts. Nero had expected such a reaction and honestly, he cared for the man, sometimes a bit too much.
“I’m asking you to be wise, my Lord,” Nero motioned to the room they were in. “How many Hands died when the Mad King ruled? How many before his reign? The last Stark to serve as Hand did so out of circumstance. Lady Stark believes the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn, and then someone tries to kill Bran. All I’m asking you, my Lord, is you take caution and do not do things as you would in the North. For the girls’ sake at least.”
Eddard Stark looked at Nero Rivers with his grey stone eyes. Then the man chuckled a bit. “You know, I’ve always tried to keep you away from here. This place. It taints people. Darkens their thoughts. More than likely someone will try to kill you. When you were born there was a great weight placed on your life. If Robert died, you would’ve been made King when you came of age. Stannis agreed to it, along with Jon Arryn. They would make you his heir. After Robert married Cersei Lannister, I kept you at Winterfell under my own watch so no one could touch you. I was closer to Robert than my own brothers when I was younger, and protecting his son is my natural duty.” Nero appreciated the gesture; no doubt what happened with Rhaegar’s children made the Quiet Wolf guard him from Tywin Lannister’s gaze. The man put a hand on his shoulder. “Even now your life is at risk. If they went for Bran, why wouldn’t they go for you? I raised you, taught you everything, but it seems to me, little Nero is wiser than me. Perhaps more than I ever was.”
“Well,” Nero rolled his eyes a bit, “Lady Stark did help you in raising me. She taught me a fair bit about the South.”
“Has she now?” Lord Stark was amused.
“Aye. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lord Stark I have to change, bathe and then greet two girls. Then annoy Septa Mordane.”
#
Sansa Stark felt relieved when the Queen told her that her beloved Joffrey was not angry at her. She said boys acted differently than boys; if women wept in sorrow, men would despair by flinging their fists. Men often said things without thinking it through. They were more volatile. That made sense. There was no way her beloved Joff would ever be angry at her that much. He loved her, she was sure he did. As she loved him.
At least she kept telling herself.
Ever since her…meeting with Nero at Winterfell, seeds of doubt began to bloom in her. Joffrey Baratheon at times seemed cruel, but he was the Prince. Princes did as they wanted and had to be made of iron. One day he would be King and she his Queen.
Her dream of being Queen would come true. However, it was different dreams she had at nights. Mostly it involved herself, naked, sweating and writhing under a handsome young man with red wild hair. She would mewl at his kisses, gasp at his thrusts and tell him how much she loved him.
The young woman was conflicted. She wasn’t supposed to think of anybody else like that. Only Joffrey should be in such thoughts, such dreams, such affection.
Not Nero Rivers. Most certainly not him. He’d always been like her brother, but the more she thought about it the less right she was. Nero wasn’t like Robb or Theon or even Jon. He never hesitated to call her pretty or tell her how she’d make a lovely lady to anyone she’d marry.
When the King and his family arrived, it was him she kissed with passion, not Joffrey. He had made her heart beat so fast she thought it’d explode! How he held her dearly from behind, telling her how he’d steal her from Joffrey. Sansa had never felt such exhilaration. Then of course there was the way he touched her, how she wanted to be touched by him and what lay in his pants. The smell of it was still in her nares. The taste still lingering on her tongue.
A knock at the door made Sansa realize that she’d been touching herself without knowing. One hand rubbed tenderly at her growing teats and the other had been finger deep into her womanhood.
Sansa brought her hand out and saw the sweet nectar coating her fingers. Instead of cleaning it, she licked it off, savoring the taste.
Nero had made her like this. She asked for a moment before composing herself, and then opened the door. It was a woman; young and fair, she had a figure that Sansa hoped to have one day, perhaps even better than her. She had black hair tied up and smiled at her. Sansa Stark had never met this woman in her life before. “Who are you?”
“I’m called Shae, m’lady,” she introduced herself. “M’lord Stark made me a handmaiden to help you and Lady Arya.” Her voice had a strange accent, making her seem more exotic.
“Are you from Dorne?” Sansa asked her and the maiden laughed.
“No, m’lady. I’m from Essos.”
“I see, my apologies.”
“It’s alright, m’lady. People from across the Narrow Sea tend to have different ways of speaking,” she said. “Lord Stark is calling for you to have lunch. He said you might need my help.”
“Of course, if you will,” Sansa said and sat as Shae fixed her hair, helped her dress and escorted her. She seemed like a nice commoner woman. Sansa wished Jeyne could’ve been here. She would’ve loved the Red Keep. As they arrived she found Arya walking into the room with an annoyed expression on her face.
She looked a fair bit bristled. Sansa truly did not understand how her sister was so different from her. Her father and mother said it was the Wolfsblood that made her like this; a handful of Starks supposedly were wilder and unorthodox like her late uncle Brandon and aunt Lyanna.
However, this seemed different. Arya had been over the moon ever since getting her sword master—Gods forbid her acting unlike a true lady. Now she acted like someone had taken her favorite treat away from her. It was still comical though.
Her father looked amused and more comfortable than he did in the last few days. “You seem angry.”
“You know why,” Arya snapped back.
“Arya,” Septa Mordane hushed her. “That’s not how a lady should behave. Your lord father is Hand now.”
“I don’t care,” Arya continued, defiantly. “He’s my father and I want my sword.”
“Why don’t you take it yourself?”
The voice sent a chill down her spine and tingled her nerves. Slowly she looked behind her and saw Nero Rivers twiddling Needle in his hands like it were a toy. He placed it on his hip along with his other swords and bowed before Sansa.
“Your grace,” he said, his voice was deep and regal. “You look lovely as ever.”
“Nero,” she said with red cheeks. Mocking her didn’t help either. His smile made him look all the more handsome. Why can’t Joff smile at me like that? She could tell he was glad to see her again, his blue eyes looked warm. “You’re here.”
“The King summoned me.” Sansa said nothing and instead only stared at him. Her breathing became a bit shallow as she watched his lips slowly twirl upwards. His eyes looked at her with deep hunger and she felt her toes curl.
“Come, sit,” her father said and Sansa was glad things were moving along. Soon they were eating, talking and laughing.
Nero spoke about the fire that broke out and her father brought better news: Bran was awake, and he could walk! Sansa felt so relieved at the news. Now her brother could come South and become a knight like he always wanted.
Arya of course mouthed all those words for her, but she still slighted the Lannisters. Sansa truly didn’t understand why her sister hated them so much. Of course, ever since they sent men to kill Lady and Nymeria, Sansa felt a bit disappointed too.
“Nero when are you going to tell them?” Lord Stark asked him and Nero was raised a brow, drinking water as he did.
“Tell them what?”
“Your little discovery in the Riverlands.”
“Oh you mean Prince Rhaeger’s rubies in the Ford?”
“YOU FOUND THEM?!” Arya shouted and left her seat, almost jumping Nero at the prospect. Nero instead grabbed her and tickled her half to death. Sansa knew it was just them acting like siblings, but she felt jealous. She knew what those hands were like and for a second she thought she saw Nero’s hands rubbing Arya’s legs. She remembered the touch and felt the phantom touch on her own flesh, she almost shivered.
“Never jump me, Lady Underfoot,” he patted her as she pouted. “But no I didn’t. I found something else. Something much more important.”
“What could it be?” Arya asked.
“Oh you know,” Nero looked at Arya and Sansa, “Lady and Nymeria.”
“What?” Sansa said in disbelief. She was sure that the Prince’s riders must’ve killed them by now. But they were alive! Her Lady was alive! “You found Lady?”
“And Nymeria?!” Arya looked full of hope.
“I found both of them and ushered them North,” Nero said as he stood up. “They’re very smart. They didn’t want to go at first, but a few pats, a few treats and of course a few harsh words made them scamper back home. Riders shouldn’t be able to catch up to them. Unless they want to lose a few limbs.”
Arya hugged him and he hugged back, and the twitch of jealousy returned and enflamed. Sansa wished she could hug him like that, Lord Stark wouldn’t say anything—they were raised together after all. But she couldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop there.
“Thank you, Nero,” she said and again his devilishly charming smile made her skip a beat, however it wasn’t her heart that did so.
#
“A tourney?” Arya nodded as he looked on, confused. “And you want me to partake?”
“Yes, silly,” she said as she kept balancing herself along the ledge. She had no worries about falling. Nero would catch her. He was really fast. When she was younger Arya had did not always have a fascination for warriors. Rhaenys, Visenya and Nymeria were her heroes, along with Aemon the Dragonknight and Ser Barristan—whom she met! Another person who played an influence on her was Nero.
Nero Rivers was the best swordsman she’d ever seen and she’d told her water dancer master, Syrio Forel, as much. From when he was young the red-haired boy was adept with a sword, a lance, even a shield.
She remembered when he took on Robb and Theon with nothing more than a shield and dropped them on their arse flat, saying he could do that all day. His prowess made her want to become a warrior and he was one of the few people Arya wanted to impress.
Seeing his skill, she suggested him to take part in the tourney. There would be loads of knights and people, not only would Nero win coin but also become a squire to some famous knight.
“I don’t think I will,” Nero squinted his eyes. Now Arya grew a bit furious.
“Why the hell not?” she asked him, hands on her hips. He groaned a bit. Then he looked around.
“Lord Stark told me to be careful around here, and keep a close eye on you and Sansa. I can’t bloody well do that if I take part in the tourney,” Nero explained and Arya rolled her eyes again.
“We’ll be safe,” she tried to convince him, “Besides don’t you want some glory? You could become a squire.”
“Arya,” he told her looking straight at her eyes, “Protecting all of you is much more important to me than glory.”
For the first time in her life, Arya blushed. Nero said it with such conviction as if it were his duty. Still she’d keep trying.
“I can take care of myself,” she took out Needle and pointed it at him. “If someone comes to harm us I’ll stick them with the pointy end.” In a flash the sword disappeared from her hand and was in Nero’s now.
“You’re not ready yet, Arya,” he told her as she jumped on the floor and Nero came down to her level. “One day you might be. But not right now. Not today.”
Not today, Syrio had told her the same thing. She pouted and she looked around for guards. There were none. Then she rammed him in the chest making him laugh. Nero hugged her in reaction. His hands slowly rubbed her back and she kept leaning against him.
“Father keeps insisting I have to be a lady,” Arya complained. She had it on her chest for some time, but couldn’t tell anyone. Usually it’d be him or Jon she’d confide to, and now that he was here she could talk freely and truly.
“Such is the fate of everyone,” Nero told her. “Everyone needs someone. You can’t live life alone, besides who says a lady can’t fight?”
“Please, there’s no lord who’d want someone like that.”
“Maybe there might be some lord who’s the odd one. I’m sure there are people like that.”
“Do you know any?”
“No.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’m sure there are people like me out there.”
“People like you?”
“Men who’d want a warrior for a wife,” Nero gestured with his hands. “I can see it now. Lady Arya of House Stark betrothed to a man who enjoys sword fighting.”
“Hmmm,” she agreed in thought and looked at Nero. If she was to be honest, she wouldn’t mind getting a lord husband like Nero. He was valiant, brave and a good fighter. He was also very smart, Maester Luwin often told her and Bran that Nero took to lessons like a fish to water. Both his sword and his mind were sharp. Arya had made her decision. “That settles it.”
“Settles what?”
“I’m going to marry you.” Arya saw Nero almost slip for no reason as his eyes widened. His face looked funny, and she laughed a bit. “Why are you making that face?”
“Did you not hear what you just said?” Nero looked at her with disbelief. “You’re a Lady of Winterfell, one of Lord Stark’s daughters. I’m a bastard.”
“I don’t see how that matters!” Arya always felt angered when he and Jon referred to themselves as that. The word held no meaning to her. “I’ll tell father I’ll get married to you.”
“You can’t,” Nero shook his head. “You’re highborn, and I’m not a lord or a knight. Besides, you’re a squirt. Too young. You wouldn’t know the first thing about marriage or bearing children.”
“You mean fucking?” Arya said and smiled slyly as Nero narrowed his eyes. “I know all about it.”
“Who even—”
“No one,” Arya told him, “I read it and heard a lot of the maids in Winterfell talking about it. That and the Septa taught us lessons. Though the boys told it in a more funny way.”
“It’s not funny, Arya,” the Crimson Bastard, as he was known in the North sat down. “Don’t jest about things like this. Besides you’re a child.”
“I’m ten and two,” she defended herself. “Children younger than me became kings.”
Nero sighed. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because I want to marry you.”
“Why?”
Arya hummed, tapped a finger against her lips. “Honestly, you’re the only person other than Jon who’s never talked me down. You always let me speak freely, always said to be myself and you’re fun too.”
“Still doesn’t change I look at you like a sister.”
“I’ll have to change that I guess,” Arya said before nearing him and sitting down on his lap. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this, but she’d snuck around enough in Winterfell, saw how the woman and the men did the nasty things.
“Arya.”
“Oh shut up,” she said before pressing her lips against his own. Arya was forcing it and after a while she stopped. Felt embarrassed too. Usually kissing went better than that from what she saw.
“That was horrible,” Nero told her.
“Shut up!” Arya was still sitting on his lap as she felt disappointed.
“Was that your first?”
“Yes,” she said miserably.
“Here let me help,” Nero raised her chin before he captured her lips with his own. Slowly, deeply, calmly he kissed her. His hands rubbed her cheeks, her hair and neck. She mimicked his actions and did her best. “Was that better?”
“I guess,” Arya said before kissing him again and slowly she was starting to get used to it.
“Open your mouth,” Arya did as she was told and felt him suckling on her lower lips. Instinctively she went for his upper ones and then his tongue massaged her own. She couldn’t lie, it felt nice. When they parted Arya was a bit short of breath and had traces of saliva over her lips.
“So, Lady Arya,” Nero said smiling thinly, “how’d you like your first kiss?”
“It was nice,” she said and felt warm and giddy inside. Her cheeks felt strange too. Like they were heating up. And why the hell was Nero looking at her like that? Not that she didn’t like it.
“Do me a favor and don’t tell Lord Stark about this,” Nero caressed her cheeks. “He’d probably have my head for stealing his little girl’s kiss.”
“Fine,” Arya said before smiling deviously. “Only if you help me practice.”
“Your water dancing?”
“Yes,” she paused, “and kissing.”
“You know Sansa asked me the same thing.”
Arya narrowed her eyes and felt annoyed. Of course Sansa asked him! The girl could never stay away from someone handsome. She felt bristled that Sansa kissed him, jealous even, but her sister never did kiss any boy before.
Her older sister was bad at keeping secrets from her. Arya thought about it again and again before she felt Nero’s hands rubbings her thighs and his lips claiming hers again. She of course returned the favor back. She felt something warm and tingly inside her with each touch and kiss.
“What about her precious Prince Joffrey?”
“I don’t think he’s a good kisser. Why would Sansa come to me otherwise?”
“What makes you think that? That you’re good?”
“Do I need to prove it again?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Arya laughed before she enjoyed tasting his lips again.
#
It was the Hour of the Wolf and somewhere far away she knew Lady was howling.
Sansa had tried sleeping after the long drawn day she had at the Hand’s coronation; she had accompanied her father and sister as they met various lords and ladies of the court. Nobles from houses far and wide treated them as if they were part of the King’s family; her father was well known to be King Robert’s best friend. There would be a tourney that would begin tomorrow and as Hand he had to be there today along with his daughters.
She was slightly glad Nero was not there, along with disappointment. She had met many knights today, many lords and ladies who were extravagant and everything the tales and songs had been about. Ser Loras Tyrell especially caught her eye and made her smile with their words, along with Ser Hugh of the Vale.
Disappointingly, Joffrey had ignored her as usual. The Queen had spoken to her once today. Surprisingly, she half expected Nero to show up. Somehow. Some way. She wanted to hear him say she looked beautiful. The more she thought about it the more she grew impatient.
But he did not. Nero Rivers did not show up for the entire day. Instead he had been tasked by Lord Eddard to do something in the city. A very important task of gathering recruits for the Night’s Watch, she wouldn’t have known if Arya hadn’t brought it up. Sansa would’ve been more annoyed if Shae hadn’t driven off some suitors with some clever words.
At least her handmaiden was useful.
Getting up from bed and putting on a gown Sansa looked out her large window as she waited for sleep to come. “Maybe counting stars will help.”
“That or me.” A chill ran down her spine as she looked at the other window. Nero Rivers was sitting on the ledge as he looked at the Blackwater Rush. “You know there were supposed to be ships here. Lord Stannis apparently left King’s Landing after the last Hand died. Took all the ships with him too.”
“Nero,” she said and felt afraid, but also excited. “How did you get in here?”
“I scaled the wall,” Nero spun around to walk inside her chambers. “In truth I was looking for ways to sneak in and it’s a bloody hard task if you’re not me. Now, how did you like the feast?”
“It was worthy of welcoming the Hand,” Sansa wanted to cover herself up better with the gown. A part of her did not. “You weren’t there.”
“Lord Stark sent me to a few places.”
“Where?”
“An armory, the shores, Mud Gate,” Nero laughed a bit, “and a whorehouse.”
“What?” Sansa narrowed her eyes and clenched her little fists. His laugh did not help. “Why?”
“Places the last Hand visited before his demise, Gods rest his soul,” Nero looked at her curiously. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” Sansa said almost a bit too loud. “Why would I be jealous? You’ve been to whorehouses before.”
“I have,” Nero took a step forward and Sansa took a step back. She realized she was against the wall. She squeezed her legs together, trying to ignore the growing warmth in between them. “But these whorehouses don’t have what I want.”
Sansa licked her lips. She tried to look away from his eyes. The deep blue she seemed to get lost in since she tasted him. “And what is it that you want?”
“You’re a smart girl, Sansa,” Nero stroked her cheek and Sansa felt a jolt go through her. “You know what I want.”
“I’m betrothed to Joffrey.”
“You are,” and with those two words Nero moved away and went back to the ledge. “I never said you weren’t, but I did say I’d steal you.”
“Why do you say that?” Sansa asked. She was confused. “Why would you do this?”
“Because it’s fun,” Nero spoke as if he were talking about the weather. “More importantly, there’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Arya,” Nero shrugged a bit. “She kissed me today.”
“She what?!” Sansa raised her voice a bit too high, making Nero look at her with a raised brow. “I mean, she what?”
“She kissed me and asked me to help her with kissing,” Nero told her and then smiled, “along with other things.”
If Sansa felt slight envy before she felt pure jealousy at the moment. Of course her stupid younger sister was involved. She’d always noted how the two of them were close. Even when she was younger Sansa saw how Nero, Jon and Arya were a group of their own.
Now, her sister was doing it again. Hogging all of Nero to herself. But she wouldn’t let her.
“I see,” Sansa said, clenching her fists. “But I kissed you first. So you’ll have to help me too.”
“What’s this?” Nero asked. “Two sisters wanting to share little old me? The Gods bless me so.”
“Shut up,” she said, blushing a little. She realized what she blurted out. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Nero laughed a bit. “Let that little wolf in you come out.”
“It’s not how ladies should act.”
“True,” Nero said and again he got closer, “but how do you want to act?”
“What do you mean?”
“You did say you want to practice,” Nero said and Sansa felt his lips on hers. She kissed back passionately. His hands were on her hips, slowly squeezing them. They roamed lower as she felt her buttocks being caressed and fondled. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue bewitched hers. She felt the heat grow in her as her breath hitched.
He was carrying her, like a bride to bed.
Pinned against the soft velvet, Sansa Stark truly forgot about Joffrey Baratheon. She felt her clothes being taken off, her skin bare for Nero to feast on. His hands were on her growing breasts; he fondled them, squeezed them, pinched her nipples until it was hot and stiff.
His mouth took them, suckled at her nipples and Sansa felt something gush out between her legs. She screamed in pleasure as Nero held a hand over her mouth. Sansa shivered at the experience and began to feel it more and more as Nero continued to pleasure her. Her breasts were aching, felt heavy from the squeezes and the bites.
Yet she didn’t want it to stop. It was so good.
Nero kissed her again before leaving a trail of kisses along her body as he spread her legs. Sansa braced herself, this would be it. She would finally become a woman. Nero’s woman.
“Not tonight,” Nero told her, he caressed her face with his hand.
“What?” Sansa was confused. “Please, do it.”
“Not tonight, love,” Sansa blushed and stammered at what he called her. “I’ll take you when I want to. However, tonight I want to show you something else.”
“What is th-Oh~” Sansa moaned out as she felt his fingers rub slowly over her unclaimed womanhood. He was teasing her, rubbing her and then he suddenly squeezed right above her entrance. The pinch made a jolt go through her body, tears emerged in her eyes from happiness, and again she was dripping wet. Nero didn’t stop there. Afterwards he pushed his fingers inside her. INSIDE HER!
By the Gods she felt her insides tighten around his digits. His fingers thrust in and out sweetly at first. Then they raced further into her making Sansa scream more and more as she felt her stomach and legs weaken from the experience.
“Nero~ Nero~” She moaned his name like a prayer.
“Tell me, Sansa,” he said bringing out his fingers out of her slit and licking them in front of her. She felt so happy. “You taste so nice. I want to taste you more.”
Before Sansa could realize what he meant she felt her legs being spread and Nero’s head resting in between them. He kissed her womanhood making her tingle from the touch. Then his tongue traced around her folds before it went inside her. She held her mouth closed, knowing all the guards would rush to her. The sensation was unearthly.
Sansa cooed as she felt Nero's tongue inside her, he was licking the silky folds of her inside. Her belly ached, a fire inside her rose exquisitely as he swirled his tongue around inside of her. Nero’s face was almost joined with her slit. Her pert round buttocks where being squeezed delightfully by him.
Her hands were at the nubs of her breasts, small and nimble fingers deftly teasing at the adorable peaks of her nipples. Nero was feasting on her, pleasuring without the slightest ounce of hesitation. His lips smacked wetly, noisily against her soft, parted labia.
He tasted the sweet tang of her nectar. His tongue switched back and forth, up and down inside of Sansa. He kissed her cunt lewdly, drank her juices greedily. The walls of her vagina shivered and clenched time and again, and she came on his face multiple times over the course of their session.
After what seemed like hours it had finally stopped, her sheets were wet with her own juices and Sansa’s face was redder than her hair as she felt Nero caress her cheek. “You taste so good.” He kissed her again and Sansa felt as if she were the happiest maiden in the Seven Kingdoms. Nero got up and stood on the ledge. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sansa.”
“Wait, you’ll fall!” Sansa got up from her bed, naked and wet. Nero laughed at her words.
“Don’t worry,” Nero assured her. “It’s going to take more than a stupid fall to kill me.” With those words he climbed down and disappeared. Sansa stood at the ledge looking for him, but found to trail. Red-faced and satisfied Sansa went to her bed, sleeping in the wet sheets.
She would ask Shae to change them in the morning, with utmost secrecy. That night Sansa dreamt again. Dreamt where she was queen, but not of the Seven Kingdoms. A queen to a man who loved her for who she was.
#
Nero sat alone in the Godswood of the Red Keep as he received memories from his clone. He smiled knowing Sansa and Arya were getting closer to becoming his, a few of his other clones were stealthily roaming the castle, looking for the famed secret tunnels only Maegor the Cruel had known. The Small Council members and the Kingsguard peaked his interest.
Among them, two people stood out to him the most: Petyr Baelish and Varys the Eunuch. One was bottled chaos, the other was disheveled order. He also kept an eye on Lord Stark and his troops; a clone of his was fucking Shae in his room..
The King and Queen, and their children were not safe from his gaze either. Cersei and Joffrey especially. He’d found out quite an interesting fact about Joffrey; he was a bigger piece of shit than Nero thought he was. Trying to murder a cat? The Others could take him and Nero wouldn’t glance.
Dragon’s breath bloomed around him as he took in the smooth warmth of the night. Having grown up in Winterfell, he had almost forgotten what a true summer felt like.
Peacefully he drank Arbor and leaned against the Heart Tree. The Old Gods were not his, nor were the New, or any God for that matter. Nero had seen Gods before, true Gods; a Goddess who could change the very world around her, someone who could trap the world in a dream, people who could conjure ethereal avatars to destroy mountains and countries, giant beasts that severed cities, reduce armies to ashes, men who could kill a thousand foes in a glimpse, use only but a finger to rip and tear through hundreds. Nero, Yami, Naruto, he had seen what true power those people held. He held power similar to that, though not as much as he’d like. The Six Paths power was addictive and he missed it. If only he could’ve retained it.
He closed his eyes in a buzzed haze and felt himself drifting off. He was gone. King’s Landing was gone, the Godswood, the warmth all of it. Only darkness surrounded him. The caw of ravens attracted his attention. He found himself standing in the snow again.
Though this wasn’t the North; he’d roamed around enough to know which roads led to where. The winds were harsher here, the snow deeper and the cold was unforgiving. He saw men cloaked in black, arguing amongst themselves. Then he saw it. A glimpse of moonlight as if it were a sword. Blue eyes, devoid of mercy, as it walked and killed the armored knight. How it raised the dead and one man run for his life. It was the same man Lord Stark beheaded for abandoning the Watch.
The dead looked at the fabled Other and followed it further into the cold and Nero had half a mind to follow them. “Perhaps I should.”
“Not yet.” Nero looked behind him, a three eyed crow sat perched atop a branch high. Nero ran up the tree to get a closer look.
“You’re the ugliest bird I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re not afraid,” the voice was deep and raspy. “Most men would be.”
“There’s no man like me.” It may have been arrogance on his part, but it was true. “And I’d like to think you’re really not a crow.”
“Who are you?”
“I told you, just a bastard,” Nero didn’t feel like telling him his name yet. “But something tells me you already know who I am.” The area around him disappeared and Nero found himself on an island filled with trees. Heart trees, countless and endless cornered him on every side as he roamed through the green land. Nero tried to channel natural energy, only taking a whiff of it and he felt it to be pure, ancient and strong.
It was more intense in one spot and he followed the trail. There stood a large and mighty heart tree, almost as great as the one in Winterfell. Near its base the three eyed crow sat on entangled roots.
“You’re not just a bastard,” the crow told him and looked at him, his neck twisting.
“And you’re not just a crow,” Nero countered as he sat down, facing the creature. “Where are we?”
“The Isle of Faces,” Nero whistled; the if crow was annoyed it didn’t how. How did crows show annoyance? Perhaps it would shit on him. “I assume you know where that is.”
“At the center of God’s Eye. One of the more famed legends regarding the Riverlands. Almost makes me proud.”
“You speak fondly of that place?” The crow came closer. “You’re a bastard of the Riverlands.”
“Is this you trying to convince you didn’t already know?” Nero smiled and the crow hummed at him. “As interesting as this conversation is, do you want to tell me why you’re bothering me again?”
“You’ve severed fate.”
“What?” Nero glanced at him again.
“You’ve ruined the course fate was supposed to take, and I cannot see further anymore. I see nothing. A thousand times I’ve tried. Yet nothing. You should not have touched Brandon Stark.”
“I saved Bran. He walks because of me, but you knew what was going to happen to him. You’re a greenseer, aren’t you?” Nero got up excitedly. Today had been full of pleasant surprises. “Well I suppose that’s not surprising. I did see the dead rise.”
“For a man, you are calm. Too calm. Do you not feel fear?”
“Trust me, crow,” Nero smiled. The creature seemed unnerved. “There are worse things than White Walkers, ice spiders and the dead rising from beyond.”
“I only know your name and what others know of you,” the crow admitted, it was feeling the pressure Nero had been emitting, the entire area was. “Nero Rivers. Bastard of Robert Baratheon. Good at killing and bedding.”
So, he only knows about me through common knowledge. But he doesn’t know who I really am, Nero thought to himself. I don’t know who this guy is yet, or he’s even human. I should probably tread carefully. “Why the interest in me?”
“Bran Stark,” the crow told him as the winds around them grew heavier. “He was supposed to lose his legs. He was to come to me and learn the truth. But you, you changed the course of fate.”
Nero felt like laughing; he was sure Naruto was somewhere laughing. Both the light and dark sides of the Uzumaki liked to flip off fate. “I find fate to be trivial. Nothing is ever set in stone except the past. So you and your talks of fate can go fuck each other.”
“You’ve seen what’s coming,” the crow’s eyes shone with fear. “There’s more. Countless of them. All of them coming to destroy everything. I cannot do it myself. You must meet me.”
“I don’t like your tone,” Nero squinted. “Perhaps you should reconsider it.”
“This is not a game.” The crow urged. “Do you not want the world to be saved?”
“I do,” Nero admitted the truth. “I enjoy the world and all the things that give me pleasure. So let me assure you, bird, I will take care of it.”
“How?” The crow seemed almost desperate. “You talk as if you know something I don’t.”
“And you talk as if you know everything,” Nero then looked at the crow with peering eyes. “Rest assured, bird. I like this world as much as you do. When the time comes, I will do what I have to do.”
“I cannot trust you,” the crow flapped its dark wings. “I cannot look into your mind. I cannot know if you are lying. I do not know if you are strong.”
The last words hurt his pride and Nero sighed. With a simple step he was floating in the wind, the crow looked at him bewildered. He grabbed the bird and stood on the ground once more.
“You…you touched me. How? You smell…like Weirwood. What are you?”
“A bastard who doesn’t like fate,” Nero told him and patted the bird’s head. “Fly off, birdie. We’ll talk later.” Nero then woke up back in the Godswood of the Red Keep once more and felt a bit dazy. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the experience of talking through tree. It felt similar to the Yamanaka’s technique, only more primitive.
With quiet steps he made it back into his room, making sure no one followed him. His clone disappeared in the privy and Nero took off all his clothes as he got on the bed. Shae was lying in ecstasy, her soaked cunt filled with his seed and tears around her eyes. The rant with the crow had left him slightly annoyed.
He turned Shae over as her ass stuck out into the air. Instinctively she was wiggling her hips; Soft and Wet had increased its hold on her further. His hand smacked Shae’s already red butt cheeks as she spasmed from the touch, immediately climaxing as Nero shoved his dick inside her.
“So good,” Shae moaned, face down into the bed, “Master.” He plowed into her, his thrusts making ripples across her cheeks. Wet, lewd, slapping noises echoed in the room as he felt her sweet cunt grow tighter around his length, coating his cock with her sweetness.
He reached over and grabbed a fistful of her hair, making her arch as her tongue hung out. Her cunt was trying to grip him forever, not letting him leave as she kept cumming on the sheets. It would be some time before Shae could finally rest that night, when she did her face, tits, cunt and stomach were covered with his semen.
#
I decided to tone down the sex a bit in this chapter, let a little story flow instead. Hope you enjoyed it, and make sure to review this story. I appreciate it. See you folks later.
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The Crimson Bastard