Hadrian Snow
The scene playing out within the main keep of Highgarden was much different than the chaos going on outside. None of the Tyrell guards were aware that he had snuck this far into the castle, nor that he was in the company of their supposed Queen along with the captured Princess of Dorne.
Looking down, he saw that Margaery was on her knees before him, face down against a pillow, ass up against his thighs. The beautiful brunette looked perfectly submissive and breedable from this angle, as if giving herself to him as recompense for her actions.
He loomed over her, his body bare and strong thighs moving to position his large cock so he could pound her opening. Already she was drenched, breathing erratically in anticipation while her wetness coated the head of his shaft.
Harry selfishly enjoyed it, his erect cock rubbing against her opening in a teasing manner, making her moan and squirm. He paused as another buxom body came up behind him then. Big, full breasts pushed against his back, dark hair brushing against his skin as a woman’s head rested on his shoulder.
“It’s good to see you again, my love.” He turned to see Arianne’s head next to him, as they shared a deep kiss. “My savior.”
“I’m glad to see you’re alright.” Harry said.
She only smirked. “I certainly am now that you’re here. And I will be even better once I see you fuck her. Margaery has been almost as desperate for your cock as I am.”
For emphasis, she gave Margaery’s ass a playful spank that made the brunette squeak. Arianne then moved her arm from the girl’s ass to his cock, gripping it with an insufficient hand before lining it up with her entrance.
He sunk in the first few inches, spreading her tight core wide. Even if he had fucked her before, it still amazed him that Margaery was always so tight.
For her part, the Highgarden rose shoved her face against the bed’s pillows to hide her moans. He could still hear them, suffocated as they were, and he reached down before gripping her hair and pulling back. “That won’t do, I want to hear you.”
He gave a sharp, brutal thrust, and Arianne gasped at the action while Margaery yelled in pleasure. “Ooooh! S-So much!”
He was thrusting into her steadily as she became tighter around shaft, getting closer to bottoming out with each thrust as he began to fill her insides. She was a smaller girl, body tight as her core desperately gripped every inch of him. But her wetness helped move things along, feminine juices coating his cock and dripping out with a squelch that accompanied his movements.
“Fuck, so hot. Keep going.” Arianne whispered sweet nothings in his ear all the while, breasts still shoved against his back. “This little Highgarden whore deserves to be fucked.”
“AHHH! HARRRRRRY!” Margaery wailed below, her pleasures getting the better of her as he sped up his movements. “O-Oh my! B-By the Mother!”
“She’s yours. Now. Forever.” Arianne continued. “Fill this little bitch with your seed. Take her as yours. Your Plaything. Your whore. She’ll be taking this cock for the rest of her days. And then once you’re done tonight, she’ll be big and pregnant.”
PLAP PLAP PLAP
He was slamming against Margaery’s bubble butt with each movement, ramming his cock into her as her juices splashed out onto the bed below. The brunette was a sweaty, moaning, screaming, wrecked mess of a Lady. Destroyed by his cock, all while he could feel his balls heating and ready to release their heavy load.
His thrusts became even more intense and sporadic, turning her body into a blur as he fucked her through one orgasm after another. When his load came, he slammed into her, falling on top of her with a roaring groan before pumping her full of seed. Margaery’s body jerked sporadically beneath his, eyes rolling up into her head from pleasure as warm bursts of cum filled her.
“Y-You…” Arianne looked on in shock at the scene, before her expression became almost zealous. “Me… You need to fuck me right now!”
She tried to manhandle him, as he pulled out of Margaery and landed flat on the bed next to the recovering girl. His cock was sticking straight up into the air and erect, and Arianne didn’t waste a moment before moving over his shaft and impaling herself on it.
They gasped simultaneously at the feeling, him because of his oversensitive cock, and her due to the massive intrusion. Yet the Dornish Princess was desperate, sinking down without care for how much it hurt as she tried to shove his engorged manhood into her.
“G-GODS!” Arianne wailed aloud, throwing her head up as she bottomed out. Her body was shaking as he felt an orgasm run through her, but it didn’t stop her as she began to move up and down.
Soon Arianne was bouncing on his cock, her tits swaying savagely with each thrust as he eyed them. Harry couldn’t help but sit up to play with them, making her moan, before their lips crashed together. Nearly every inch of her buxom body was pressed flat against his own, and he could feel everything from her thick hips to those heavy breasts.
“Yes… Yes…” She panted in heat, voice breaking. “Just like that… give me everything!”
His hands moved down to grip her sides, letting his fingers sink into those delicious hips as he began to move her up and down wildly on his shaft. Their lovemaking was getting louder and more intense by the moment, and he had to wonder if someone would notice.
PLAP PLAP PLAP
“Fuck! So good!” She yelled. “Harder, Harry! Use me!”
“Ugh.” A groan was all he could muster, focused on slamming her up and down along his length.
She sure lived up to the stereotype for Dornish women, enjoying wild and hard fuckings that would leave normal men undone. But Harry was hardly a normal man, his muscles straining as he slammed her up and down in a bur. His cock was hard and steaming, feeling more akin to a molten iron rod that was about to explode and fill her pussy with seed.
But he didn’t care, gritting his teeth as Arianne moaned, begged, and screamed for more. She was so desperate for his love, his load, that all she wanted was to pleasure him. The girl would be his wife after all, and he would spend the rest of his days fucking and breeding her just like this all to his heart’s content.
“Fuck…” The mutter came from the side, and he looked over to see Margaery watching the scene while biting her lip. Her fingers were playing with her dripping core, watching the Martell Princess get absolutely wrecked.
“H-Harry, please, I-I’m g-gonna…” Drool fell from Arianne’s lips, her eyes going glassy as she stuttered.
His balls swelled and thrummed in their bag, a heat travelling through his length as his cockhead slammed against her walls. He gritted his teeth hard as he fought back his release, but eventually lost, slamming her down in one final thrust before letting his load erupt. It sprayed into her as Arianne screamed, filling her core to the brim before she fell against him in an exhausted heap of limbs.
Harry let out heavy breaths as he watched on, deciding to let the Dornish Princess recover as he moved on to Margaery. Soon he was fucking her again, then taking Arianne’s throat as she sucked him off, before switching back to Margaery and blowing his load all over her front. The three fucked and enjoyed their shared debauchery late into the night, and it was only once the two fell asleep from pure exhaustion that he dressed himself and left in the early morning.
Exiting the private quarters, Harry slipped out and began stealthily navigating the rest of the Keep. It was mostly unattended to, with most guards having to man the walls instead of watching over the inner keep. The enemy was outside after all, and would have to break through three walls to even get this far, which led to such a decision.
Yet he still found Margaery’s Grandmother sitting quietly and sipping tea while seemingly waiting for him. The older woman faced the entry hall leading to where Arianne and Margaery were, out in a small courtyard, all while looking entirely unsurprised at his appearance.
“I knew you’d come.” Was all Olenna Tyrell said, acting as if the sight of him was no big surprise.
“Oh?”
She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea. “My son has always been a fool, and this war has been his most foolish decision to date. Nay, it may be the worst blunder in the history of House Tyrell, and may even end us.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably, knowing he was their enemy and one of the reasons they were in such a poor state. “If it helps, I’m not planning to storm your keep. Just put enough pressure on Lord Tyrell so he returns home.”
“Your mercies truly know no bounds.” Olenna replied dryly, seemingly unamused, before her face became more serious. “I assume that you will be taking my granddaughter with you?”
“It’s her decision if she wants to leave or not, but she did seem intent on doing so.” He shrugged.
“It’s always fascinated me how far a woman will go for some cock.” She snorted. “I had thought Margaery above such things, but maybe she inherited some of that foolishness from her father.”
He ignored her words. “I will keep her safe.”
“You better.” She scowled. “I don’t want her anywhere near Highgarden when Tywin Lannister comes knocking. It will either be him or one of those vassals claiming to be the true descendants of House Gardener that comes, hoping to take our place as the next Lord Paramount. Up-jumped bastards, the lot of ‘em.”
He turned around, feeling that this conversation was over. “It’s been fun, Lady Olenna.”
“Fun is not a word most use to describe me.” She said as he left. “I can see why Ned Stark kept you close, Snow.”
Soon he was back to Arianne and Margaery, as he grabbed their sleeping forms before apparating them out of the castle. From there they mounted up to ride further south, leaving Highgarden behind.
/////
Renly Baratheon
The skies became darker and the decisions harder with each passing day. It had been some time since he realized that becoming King wouldn’t be as easy nor glamorous as he first imagined, like how it was for Robert in his Rebellion. The Starks and Lannisters had been the ones to dissuade him from that silly notion, and it only became worse as he lost battle after battle to them.
And it was when he thought the war couldn’t go any worse, that it somehow did. His allies began trying to return home, sometimes going against his orders and rebelling in the process. It was hard enough to keep his men in line after Bitterbridge fell, even harder when the Marauders descended further into the Reach. And now it was downright impossible with the Greyjoys raiding the coasts while Hadrian Snow lay siege to Highgarden.
The various Lords under him had even come to blows in meetings, fighting each other over what their next move would be. Beyond that, it had been three times now that several Lords joined together and tried to run off with their men-at-arms, drawing the camp into a skirmish as the other Lords fought them for desertion.
No longer was their massive camp a spectacle of colorful tents and bright banners blowing in the wind, but rather a maze of dirty canopies covered in ash and blood. Corpses of deserters and traitors who tried to escape surrounded the edge, hung and stripped down to rags as to dissuade anyone else who tried to run.
But still the Reachmen were desperate to return home, and even Mace Tyrell was beginning to waver. Their once massive host of a hundred thousand had halved, and with it fell the confidence of the Reach’s Lord Paramount. One only had to look upon his haggard and weary appearance to realize their situation.
It was over.
Would this be his fate? Betrayed by the Lords who had crowned him and left to fight alone? He wanted to seethe, to feel that same anger he had felt when Loras fell, but all he felt was tiredness. Renly no longer cared about the Iron Throne, about the crown being placed upon his head, nor the recognition or tourneys that would be held in his honor.
And so, when he heard screams and shouts of warning coming from outside his tent one early morning, he knew what was coming. His Lords no longer had the stomach to fight for him, and they could only fend off the overwhelming might of the Stark, Lannister, and Tully armies for so long.
He soon learned that many Lords that remained had slipped away in the dead of night with their men, doing so right as word arrived that Tywin Lannister was drawing near. Forty thousand remained in the end, mostly being smallfolk that had been conscripted, and no match for mounted and armored knights accompanied by heavy foot descending upon them in an encirclement.
Renly found himself standing at the edge of a creek as the campground of his once massive army burned behind him. The banners of the Lannister lion and Stark wolf were raised high, accompanied by the screams of the dead and dying Reachmen who stayed by his side to the end.
A Valyrian steel dagger was held in his hand as he pushed it into his wrist, watching his blood trickle down into the water below. Nearby he could hear horse hooves accompanied by shouts, and soon Renly fell into the water as his consciousness left him.
/////
Robb Stark
What would likely be the end of the war came quietly. Or at least more quietly than he imagined it would all end.
Compared to the deafening shouts and screams at the Battle at the God’s Eye, this had been a much more subdued affair. Renly’s men were tired, their morale crushed, and most laid down their arms rather than fight.
But there were some exceptions, mainly being the Tyrell men-at-arms along with some Stormlanders. He had left the Lannisters to handle those, as the men of the Westerlands were bloodthirsty as always and craved vengeance after Lord Tywin was injured in battle. All Robb cared about now was preserving as many of his men as he could, and returning North with a healthy host high on victory.
That meant rounding up the men that surrendered, including the many cravens who fled rather than fight. The work wasn’t very rewarding, but came with the opportunity to capture Renly should he try to breakout and flee. The Lannisters and Tullies were the ones in combat, while the Starks were charged with being in reserve and managing prisoners.
“What of Renly Baratheon? Is there any word on him?” He asked when the battle was coming to its end, receiving no answer from the surrounding Lords. “What of his personal guard?”
“Most of his guard surrendered or ran off, my Lord, and only ser Parmen Crane fought to the last with some holdouts.” Domeric Bolton reported, his bloodied armor a testament to the fate of said holdouts.
“Aye, I’ve asked every Lord I’ve come across, and none know his whereabouts.” Smalljon stated. “Perchance he ran off before the battle? Got rid of those fancy southron robes and hid?”
“Cravens, the lot of ‘em-”
“Lord Stark!” A rider called out, and he turned to see a mounted man donning Manderly colors riding his way. “We have found King Renly, my Lord!”
“Where?” Was all he could ask.
He soon got the answer, as outriders from House Manderly had found his corpse drifting down a nearby stream. King Renly Baratheon had run off and taken his own life rather than fight to the last in his camp, surrounded on all sides by his enemies.
Some would say it was cowardly, but Robb could hardly blame him. Robert Baratheon’s youngest brother had lost everything in this disastrous war of his, and probably didn’t want to face a public execution when all was said and done.
And his decision was further reinforced in his mind when the fates of the Tyrells were made known that day. Mace Tyrell had been skewered by nameless Lannister men-at-arms that managed to breakthrough and kill him, falling with several other members of House Tyrell who were trying to rally their remaining men.
Without their liege Lord, a clear line of succession, along with the ongoing war, the fate of the Reach would go from being the jewel of Westeros to a place reminiscent of the seven hells. Raiding Marauders, Greyjoys, a civil war between its Lords, and the wrath of several Great Houses would see to that.
The Westerlands, Riverlands, Iron Islands, and Dorne all had a bone to pick with the Reach now, and even Robb was tempted to stay and loot the rich southron land for a few moons before returning home.
But in the end, he really had no desire to spend more time in the south, instead packing up and heading North with his men as Renly’s corpse was strung up and the war officially declared over. He had his beautiful blonde wife waiting for him back at Winterfell, and would much rather stuff her cunt with his cock rather than suffer another moment of this unbearable heat.
Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18
A/N: For those who didn't know, this story will soon be coming to an end. The Poll for the next HP x GOT crossover story is up and ending late tomorrow. Several hundred readers are still eligible to vote, so be sure to do so!