RougeAtomic
patreon
The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 18:49:16 +0000 UTCArianne Martell
“H-He’s dead?” Arianne felt her body freeze up as she stared down at the ongoing chaos taking place down below in the arena, specifically focusing on the unmoving body of Hadrian Snow.
At her side, Margaery seemed to react even worse than her, the girl’s form literally shaking as she tried to repress her sobs. Arianne doubted she would ever see such a visceral and genuine show of emotion from the Tyrell maiden ever again, as Margaery was the type to hide behind several carefully constructed facades and would never show true emotion unless in a truly traumatic situation.
It meant that she was deeply connected in some way with the Stark bastard, likely being in some sort of romantic relationship that was kept hidden from the public.
She focused back on the tourney grounds, only to this time focus in on the Mountain that Rides. The giant knight had moved on from Hadrian Snow, and instead steered his steed back towards where the other Lannister participants resided. Such a move just so happened to lead him directly to her uncle, Oberyn Martell, who had managed recover from their earlier bout.
Arianne’s heart dropped at the thought of potentially seeing another member of her family laid low by the Mountain, especially after the man she was interested in was killed by him. She had grown up hearing the tale of what happened to Aunt Elia in hushed whispers murmured by maids within the Tower of the Sun, and she knew that her uncle had come to King’s Landing in pursuit of revenge for his sister.
Nothing would dissuade Oberyn Martell from his revenge now, and Arianne knew he would either succeed in killing Gregor Clegane, or die trying.
The monstrous form of the Mountain charged her uncle, doing so while atop his horse while Oberyn was left without one. His huge greatsword swept out as if to bisect him in two, while Oberyn sprinted toward the swing as if he wanted to meet the blow with his face. The crowd was silent, enraptured by the scene to the point they all seemed to be holding their breath, as all Arianne could do was watch.
Oberyn slid down and glided under the Mountain’s swing at the very last moment, nearly going flat to the ground while doing so, only to stand and spin around as the giant passed him before stabbing his spear into the horse’s rear.
It had the intended outcome of fatally wounding the animal, especially when she knew the spear’s tip was coated in lethal poison, causing the Mountain’s horse to go into a frenzy. Gregor Clegane yelled and tried to get his steed under control, but ultimately failed as the animal soon foamed at the mouth and fell over on its side dead.
It had the effect of landing Gregor Clegane on the ground as fell, as the giant man stumbled to his feet in a daze while Oberyn looked on.
“I have been waiting for this day, the day I will have revenge on the murderer of my sister.” Even if he whispered those words, nothing would have stopped the crowd from hearing them.
Oberyn then struck, and a dozen spear thrusts smashed against the Mountain’s defense, each one too fast for Arianne to track. And yet none of them fully penetrated his thick armor, either bouncing ineffectively against or being parried by the Mountain’s blade.
“You killed her. You raped her!” Oberyn yelled, before launching another attack at the Mountain as the man tried to bat each blow away with his sword. “Confess!”
Suddenly the Mountain lunged forward, and her uncle barely managed to sidestep a blow that would’ve cleaved him in two. The crowd gasped, the courtiers all eating the drama up, all while Arianne’s heart thundered in her ears.
“Elia Martell.” Oberyn said again. “You raped her. You killed her. You killed her children! Confess!”
He launched himself at the giant man again, as they traded blows with Oberyn’s spear glancing of the Mountain’s armor more and more. Gregor Clegane was lucky to be wearing such heavy plate, otherwise Arianne was sure he would be dead ten times over.
“Aye.” The Mountain growled as Oberyn finally pulled back from his relentless assault, opting to circle the giant and wait for an opening instead. “I fucked the stupid bitch, and then I split her in half! Just like I’ll do to you!”
“RAAGH!” Oberyn screamed in rage as he launched himself at the giant, but that was exactly what the Mountain wanted. He was goading the Dornish prince, and his giant blade swept down at the perfect angle to strike a killing blow.
“Oberyn!” Arianne was on her feet with a shout, all while she watched in horror.
Luckily, whether it being Oberyn’s instincts, or her own intervention, her uncle managed to jump to the side at the last moment to disengage. He didn’t get out unscathed however, as the tip of the Mountain’s blade cut part of his left arm.
Oberyn is going to die if he doesn’t do something different. As many times as his spear had made contact with the Mountain, it had yet to fully pierce his armor and wound him. In turn, the Mountain was able to slowly whittle down Oberyn to the point he could win by scoring small wounds. He needs to find a way to get around that ridiculous armor.
“N-No, that can’t be…” A murmur came from next to her then, and Arianne turned to see Margaery’s teary gaze locked onto something in the arena.
She followed the girl’s gaze, only to freeze upon the sight that greeted her. Hadrian Snow was slowly getting up, his sword in hand as he discarded his helm. His face was smeared in blood from the Mountain’s attack, but that wasn’t what got her attention, as it was his glowing green eyes and steaming skin that drew her in.
He stood up on on sturdy legs, and turned to face the giant man who was battling her uncle. He opened his mouth, and out of it came a roar that shook Arianne to her very core, making her nearly orgasm then and there from the sheer amount of power contained within.
/////
Hadrian Snow
His skin burned. It was so hot that he burned through part of his clothes and began melting his armor to his skin. Steam drifted off the steel plate, its color turning from silver to slightly red from the heat. He had R’hllor to thank for bringing him back, and Harry could only guess that his fiery revival was typical for anyone touched by the Lord of Light.
The moment he could move, he threw off his helmet before reaching over to pick up his sword. The steel blade literally sizzled at his touch, with heat being transferred from the handle where he gripped it.
He could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, the clash of steel and intermittent screams from both the crowds and competitors.
The Mountain still lived. He needed to die. He summoned his rage then, filling his lungs with air before releasing it in a roar. The melee seemed to come to a complete stop at the noise, and Harry was able to finally locate the Mountain among the mess of competitors who stopped and looked his way.
He took a step forward, heading straight toward where Gregor Clegane stood, only for a Lannister knight to intercept him. He was bald and looked more like a bandit than an actual knight, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the sigil of House Clegane sitting conspicuously on his tabard.
“Still alive, huh?” The bald man licked his lips. “I’m gonna-”
Harry’s blade swung faster than ever before, slamming in from the side with its flat edge and crushing half of the knight’s chest in before he could react. He let him fall to the ground in a heap before swiftly moving on.
He could see the giant of a man fighting Oberyn Martell, with the Red Viper of Dorne looking worse for wear even compared to his haggard appearance earlier. The Dornishman’s left arm was bloody and nearly limp, as he breathed heavily to keep up the fast pace of battle he had set for himself.
It was the embodiment of strength versus speed, of skill and finesse fighting against pure brute force. The crowd was enraptured by the display, with all of the tourney’s remaining participants giving them a wide berth. It was too bad then, that Harry would be the one to disrupt their duel.
“MOUNTAIN!” Harry roared, damn near blowing people off their feet with how loud his voice was then. The shout seemed to get Clegane’s attention, as both him and Oberyn Martell stopped and looked his way. “I’m not finished with you!”
Clegane’s face contorted in rage, but it was underlined by a small amount of fear that Harry could sense. “You would dare challenge me again, bastard?!”
“You might’ve gotten a cheap shot earlier, but that was the only strike you’ll be lucky enough to land on me.” Harry stated as an indisputable fact while he gripped his blade with two hands. “My next blow is going to cleave you in two!”
The giant man reddened even more, as he left the area he and Oberyn were dueling in and instead began circling Harry.
Luckily, Oberyn Martell didn’t object to his intervention, instead taking the time to recover from his wounds off to the side. That left Harry and Clegane to size each other up, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Eventually, it was the Mountain who struck first, raising his greatsword high and giving a roar as he charged toward him. Clearly the man expected another battle of strength, and Harry held his ground as if planning to meet the blow head-on.
He held his own sword in the ready position, all while the Mountain got closer, and as he was within striking distance, Harry watched as the giant brought his blade down. That was when Harry moved, not moving backwards as if to retreat, but instead forwards as he advanced inside the Mountain’s guard.
He moved inside an area that was scarily close to the giant, and that was when he swung his blade from the side and upwards with all his might. The momentum behind it, along with his own strength, propelled the blade with a force that was unthinkable. It slammed against Clegane’s thick and heavy chest armor, and didn’t come to a stop, continuing through it like a knife cutting butter, before coming out the other side.
It was a swift and clean cut, one that happened in only a moment, as the Mountain gave a gurgle before falling to the arena floor in two pieces, his midsection bisected in two.
For a while, the world seemed to exist in silence, before noise from all sides barraged Harry’s ears. The attending Lords, merchants, and smallfolk alike roared with applause as they watched the spectacle from their places in the stands. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught the sight of Arianne and Margaery standing and cheering, with both Ladies having broad smiles on their faces.
A glance over at Oberyn Martell showed the man panting as an irritable frown sat on his face. Clearly he was upset that Harry killed the man who murdered his sister, yet Harry could still spot the satisfaction on his face upon seeing the Mountain laid low.
He turned to face him then, his next action surprising both the audience, as well as Oberyn Martell.
“I yield.”
The Dornish Prince’s jaw dropped in shock, but Harry ignored his reaction, instead focusing on his next move. Now it’s finally time to take care of Littlefinger for good.
/////
Petyr Baelish
He left the gates of King’s Landing with a smirk playing on his lips, the sweet taste of victory filling the air.
His cost to escape imprisonment was minimal to say the least, as it was as simple as rescuing some old gold cloaks from being executed before making them his personal guards. Lord Stark had made quite a few enemies in his persecution of the old City Watch, and Baelish had managed to draw quite a few of the former city watchmen into his service as a result.
From there it was as simple as disguising them and then having them sneak into the Black cells while everyone was distracted by the tourney. Sadly, not everything went off without a hitch, as the new Northmen guarding the Red Keep noticed something was amiss, and Petyr had to break off from a large chunk of his guard as they got into a skirmish.
That said, a little bit of chaos during his escape was nothing to complain about, and if anything, Ned Stark’s reputation would take an even bigger blow from it all. That is, after his bastard nephew died to the Mountain in his own tourney.
Petyr had hired the Mountain to do just that after all, making sure to pay Gregor Clegane handsomely to take Hadrian Snow’s head during the melee. He dearly wished he could be there in person to see it, but sadly his own plans didn’t give him such a luxury. What I would give to see Ned Stark’s face when his favorite bastard dies…
Soon Stark would be chased back up north, thrown out of the Red Keep either by Robert’s stupidity, or from the loss of his semi-competent nephew. After that, Petyr could easily sneak back in if he wanted to, using some of that gold he looted from the treasury to make some bribes in order to clear his name. And without Ned Stark to oppose him… he had as good as won.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a wineskin full of Dornish red, before taking a deep gulp of it to celebrate his victory.
That was when the arrows started flying.
Those remaining former gold cloaks who were still with him—being four in total—were struck by arrows one after the other, with their assailant revealed to be a blonde woman hiding in the trees. She held a bow aloft as she ruthlessly targeted his men, not allowing them a moment to act as her hands moved with supreme skill and efficiency.
“W-Wait!” Petyr stuttered as she drew back her final arrow and aimed it his way. “I have gold, I’ll-”
She didn’t let him finish, instead letting the arrow loose. He saw it heading his way, his life flashing before his eyes all the while, yet the arrow didn’t hit him. Instead it hit his horse, killing the animal instantly and making it fall on its side with him still in its saddle.
Petyr Baelish’s vision went dark for a long moment, his head hurting as it slammed into the ground. Yet when he opened his eyes, the worst possible view greeted him.
“B-Brandon?” He managed to get out in his stupor.
“No, it’s Harry.” The Stark bastard walked up to him casually, looking slightly worse for wear with blood covering his face and armor. “Your plan failed, Baelish.”
The Mountain had failed then. He immediately deduced, and judging by the blood on the bastard’s armor, he could guess that Clegane might actually be dead.
He opened his mouth to speak, and he didn’t know whether it was to taunt and ridicule, or to even try and bribe the bastard. Yet he didn’t have the chance too, as a blade pierced straight through his neck.
/////
Hadrian Snow
Littlefinger was dead.
Not a minute after the bastard died, Harry was on top of Val as he carelessly divested her of her cloak to get access to her body.
He was tired of all the court plotting, the attempts on his life, the spectacle that was the Hand’s tourney, along with that whole mess with R’hllor. He wanted to let off steam, to forget about his problems and revert to his most base desires.
His trousers fell then and there, and he proceeded to take Val like a bitch in heat.
His cock burned with heat, and he didn’t know if it was because of the Lord of Light’s intervention, or just his own lust after the day’s events. Either way, Harry felt more lustful and hotheaded than ever, and nothing would stop him from taking the wildling in that forest right outside King’s Landing.
Disclaimer: All characters are over the Age of 18
A/N:
I know. This story needs less plot and more smut! Make sure you vote in the latest poll for Harry’s next lover!
Comments
travis btmb
Tftc
