The Twins

The host swelled as it marched south. Winterfell was secured, the Boltons broken, and the North bent the knee with a mixture of fear and awe at the stories spreading about their king - the man who bedded the Red Witch and filled half the noblewomen of the North with his seed. Now the riverlands awaited.

The Twins rose ugly and formidable over the Green Fork. Walder Frey, ever the opportunist, had sent ravens pledging fealty… while secretly harboring Lannister gold and plotting betrayal. Your scouts uncovered the trap.

You took the castle in a single bloody night. Tormund’s wildlings scaled the walls, your direwolves tore through the yards, and Melisandre’s flames lit the sky red as the Freys burned in their own towers. Walder Frey himself was dragged before you in the great hall, piss staining his breeches, surrounded by the surviving women of his house.

You sat on the high seat that should have been Robb’s, Longclaw across your knees. Melisandre stood at your right, her enormous belly proudly displayed, one hand resting atop it. Your growing harem - Val, Alys, and two others - knelt at the foot of the dais in silks and furs, freshly fucked and glowing.

“Old man,” you said coldly, “you betrayed the King in the North. Tonight the North repays its debts.”

Walder whimpered pleas. You ignored him.

Your gaze fell on - Roslin Frey - the young, pretty one Walder had married to Edmure Tully. She was canonically soft-featured, dark-haired, with wide hips and a fearful tremble in her limbs. Barely a year into her marriage and already known for her gentle nature. She tried to hide behind her sisters, but Frey guards shoved her forward at spearpoint.

“Strip her,” you commanded.

Rough hands tore away her gown until Roslin stood naked in the middle of the hall before hundreds of your men - wildlings, black brothers, northern lords, and the defeated Freys. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Her breasts were full and heavy, her waist narrow, her cunt barely hidden by a thin strip of dark hair.

Melisandre’s voice rang out, amplified by magic. “Behold what happens to those who cross the King in the North. Watch him claim what is his by right of conquest.”

You rose and descended the steps. The hall fell deathly quiet except for the crackle of torches. Roslin’s eyes were wide with terror as you circled her slowly, then seized her by the back of the neck and **** her down onto all fours on the cold stone floor - right in the center of the hall where everyone could see.

“No… please, my lord-” she whispered.

You freed your cock - already hard, thick, and glistening - and knelt behind her. Without warning you drove into her in one brutal thrust. Roslin cried out sharply as her tight, unused cunt stretched around your girth. She was wet despite her fear (perhaps from sheer terror or the strange magic in the air), but still incredibly tight.

You fucked her like a prize mare on display. Hard, deep, possessive strokes that made her heavy tits swing and slap together. The wet sounds of your cock slamming into her echoed obscenely through the silent hall. Every thrust **** little broken moans and sobs from her mouth.

“Look at your king,” Melisandre commanded the crowd. “See how even the daughters of traitors open for him.”

You gripped Roslin’s hips harder, pulling her back onto your cock with every forward snap of your hips. Her knees scraped against stone. Her dark hair fell across her face as she moaned louder, shame mixing with unwanted pleasure. You reached under her, found her clit, and rubbed it roughly until her cunt began to flutter and clench.

The men started cheering. Wildlings banged spears on shields. Your northern lords watched with dark approval.

You yanked her head back by the hair so the entire hall could see her face - flushed, teary, lips parted in a constant whimper. Then you leaned over her back and growled loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Every traitor’s daughter will serve as cock-sleeve if I command it.”

Roslin shattered with a wail, her pussy spasming hard around you as she came publicly in front of her entire family. The humiliation pushed you over the edge. You buried yourself to the hilt and roared, flooding her womb with thick, heavy ropes of cum until it overflowed and dripped down her thighs onto the stone floor.

You stayed inside her for a long moment, letting everyone see your seed leaking from her conquered cunt. Then you pulled out with a wet pop and stood, cock still half-hard and shining.

“Chain Walder to the wall,” you ordered. “Let him watch every night while I breed his daughter in this hall until she swells like the Red Woman.”

Roslin collapsed to the floor, trembling, cum pouring out of her as your men roared approval.

Melisandre smiled serenely, rubbing her belly. “The road to King’s Landing grows shorter, my love. And every castle between here and the Iron Throne will learn the same lesson.”

You looked down at the spent, well-fucked Roslin, then out across the hall of conquered men.

Winter was not just coming.

It was claiming every warm hole it desired on the way.