crack!fic: Mother of Hosts
Title: Mother of Hosts
Rating: R
Pairing: Theon/Melisandre
Word Count: 1,061
Summary: Theon Grejoy is pregnant by Melisandre. 100% crack!fic, with mpreg.
Note: For goluxexmachina.
Theon Greyjoy was pregnant. His belly bulged big before him and his stomach roiled with nausea. He wasn’t sure if it was the usual sickness pregnant women complained of or whether it was due to his disgust at the situation he found himself in.
He knew exactly who was to blame for this abomination: Melisandre. That red bitch had done this to him. He’d heard stories about her; how she danced and sang prayers while men were burned alive, how she’d used some dark sorcery to kill Stannis Baratheon’s enemies. But when she came to his sleeping cell last night, he had not thought to send her away. The only other women for leagues around were the whores he shared with the Night’s Watch and Stannis’s soldiers, and Melisandre was beautiful. Besides, he’d figured a woman who could seduce Stannis must know some good bed tricks.
And she had. Her hands were soft and her mouth was nearly as hot and wet as her cunt. She had milked his cock over and over until it simply couldn’t rise again. She’d said something to him before leaving, but Theon had not been paying attention to her. He had slept, and awoken late in the morning as was his custom.
He’d been wondering whether the bastard Jon Snow would be in the yard, whether he should wait a bit before he went out to show the crows what the Conqueror of Winterfell was made of. Theon had rolled, wondering why he simply couldn’t get comfortable on his featherbed, and then he’d felt it. His screams of horror had filled the room, but the stone walls were thick and no one heard, or at least no one came running.
He should be grateful for that. His tunic fit, though it couldn’t hide the bulge of his belly, but his breeches were another matter. He laced it below his belly and hoped it would not fall down. He pulled both cloaks he owned over his shoulders and held them together in front.
The red bitch usually spent her days walking the Wall or offering advice to the bastard Lord Commander, but Theon could not climb the switchback stairs in his condition and he dared not risk being seen by Snow. He grabbed the first black brother he saw by the arm and ordered him to deliver an urgent message to Lady Melisandre.
“I don’t have to take orders from you,” the little runt said, wriggling his ears.
It was Jon Snow that had scum like this disrespecting him. Stannis intended to help him regain Pyke and he’d ordered Theon treated with all honor due a great lord and ally. But the bastard had always been jealous of Theon and his insolence trickled down to the thieves, rapers, and murderers under his command.
“When Stannis returns, I’ll see you hanged. Or given to the fires.”
The threat of Melisandre’s fires scared the boy into compliance. Still, it felt like hours before Melisandre came. Theon was certain his belly had grown even bigger. Worse, he could feel movement. He remembered Ned Stark and his brats gathering to touch his wife’s belly whenever she was great with child. Theon vomited. He was a man; this wasn’t supposed to happen to him. It couldn’t happen, and yet it obviously had.
“It worked.” The red bitch sounded so happy that Theon would have struck her if he didn’t fear her.
“What have you done to me?”
“I’ve given you an opportunity to do R’hllor’s work, to help in the fight against the Great Other.” The ruby at her throat seemed to glow brighter as she stroked it.
“How?”
“Be glad, Theon. I wanted you for my fires. Your father called himself a king and men died fighting for him; your blood would wake the dragons Azor Ahai needs to fight the darkness. But Stannis insisted your father was merely a rebel and he would not dignify your claim to a throne that does not exist by giving you to me.”
She helped Theon to sit and rubbed his lower back. That seemed to relieve the discomfort some - the discomfort in his body, at least.
“I found another way for you to serve the Lord of Light against the evil that threatens us all. It is very old, and I was not sure it would work. But with magic strong in the world again…This is a great blessing, Theon Greyjoy.”
“What’s inside me?”
“A warrior of the light, a shadow that will venture forth to battle our enemies. And not just one, many of them. I can birth only one per time, but a man’s body is different. In a single act of copulation, a man has the potential for thousands of lives.”
Theon felt faint. “How will they get out? Out my arse?”
“Yes,” Melisandre answered simply.
This is not happening. I am in the Bastard of Bolton’s dungeon. I’ve passed out from hunger. This is a dream, a horrible dream. When I awake up Ramsay will feed me a rat and call me his pet. The thought should not have comforted him, but it did.
“How much longer?” His belly was growing even more.
“Not long. Relax and let your body follow its instincts when the time comes.”
“I want a maester.”
“Those poor fools know nothing about this. They can’t help you.” She stroked Theon’s hair. “I’ll help you.”
By help she meant she’d scream at Theon to push. He pushed and pushed, like he’d eaten the old three-fingered cook’s stale mammoth roast. The thing - he refused to call it a baby - came. Then another followed it and another and yet another.
He was bleeding. The things were so bloody big. He was torn and bleeding and it hurt worse than being flayed and he was going to die. No, it was a dream and he couldn’t die in a dream. He wished he would awake up.
Melisandre kissed his temple. “Alas, the drawback of this method is that it drains all of the father’s life force. Do not fear death, Theon. R’hllor will welcome you and you will know peace and bliss in his arms forever more. And your name shall be remembered here. Men will speak of you as a great hero.”
“No!”
Another great pain wracked his body and merciful darkness came for Theon.
Rating: R
Pairing: Theon/Melisandre
Word Count: 1,061
Summary: Theon Grejoy is pregnant by Melisandre. 100% crack!fic, with mpreg.
Note: For goluxexmachina.
Theon Greyjoy was pregnant. His belly bulged big before him and his stomach roiled with nausea. He wasn’t sure if it was the usual sickness pregnant women complained of or whether it was due to his disgust at the situation he found himself in.
He knew exactly who was to blame for this abomination: Melisandre. That red bitch had done this to him. He’d heard stories about her; how she danced and sang prayers while men were burned alive, how she’d used some dark sorcery to kill Stannis Baratheon’s enemies. But when she came to his sleeping cell last night, he had not thought to send her away. The only other women for leagues around were the whores he shared with the Night’s Watch and Stannis’s soldiers, and Melisandre was beautiful. Besides, he’d figured a woman who could seduce Stannis must know some good bed tricks.
And she had. Her hands were soft and her mouth was nearly as hot and wet as her cunt. She had milked his cock over and over until it simply couldn’t rise again. She’d said something to him before leaving, but Theon had not been paying attention to her. He had slept, and awoken late in the morning as was his custom.
He’d been wondering whether the bastard Jon Snow would be in the yard, whether he should wait a bit before he went out to show the crows what the Conqueror of Winterfell was made of. Theon had rolled, wondering why he simply couldn’t get comfortable on his featherbed, and then he’d felt it. His screams of horror had filled the room, but the stone walls were thick and no one heard, or at least no one came running.
He should be grateful for that. His tunic fit, though it couldn’t hide the bulge of his belly, but his breeches were another matter. He laced it below his belly and hoped it would not fall down. He pulled both cloaks he owned over his shoulders and held them together in front.
The red bitch usually spent her days walking the Wall or offering advice to the bastard Lord Commander, but Theon could not climb the switchback stairs in his condition and he dared not risk being seen by Snow. He grabbed the first black brother he saw by the arm and ordered him to deliver an urgent message to Lady Melisandre.
“I don’t have to take orders from you,” the little runt said, wriggling his ears.
It was Jon Snow that had scum like this disrespecting him. Stannis intended to help him regain Pyke and he’d ordered Theon treated with all honor due a great lord and ally. But the bastard had always been jealous of Theon and his insolence trickled down to the thieves, rapers, and murderers under his command.
“When Stannis returns, I’ll see you hanged. Or given to the fires.”
The threat of Melisandre’s fires scared the boy into compliance. Still, it felt like hours before Melisandre came. Theon was certain his belly had grown even bigger. Worse, he could feel movement. He remembered Ned Stark and his brats gathering to touch his wife’s belly whenever she was great with child. Theon vomited. He was a man; this wasn’t supposed to happen to him. It couldn’t happen, and yet it obviously had.
“It worked.” The red bitch sounded so happy that Theon would have struck her if he didn’t fear her.
“What have you done to me?”
“I’ve given you an opportunity to do R’hllor’s work, to help in the fight against the Great Other.” The ruby at her throat seemed to glow brighter as she stroked it.
“How?”
“Be glad, Theon. I wanted you for my fires. Your father called himself a king and men died fighting for him; your blood would wake the dragons Azor Ahai needs to fight the darkness. But Stannis insisted your father was merely a rebel and he would not dignify your claim to a throne that does not exist by giving you to me.”
She helped Theon to sit and rubbed his lower back. That seemed to relieve the discomfort some - the discomfort in his body, at least.
“I found another way for you to serve the Lord of Light against the evil that threatens us all. It is very old, and I was not sure it would work. But with magic strong in the world again…This is a great blessing, Theon Greyjoy.”
“What’s inside me?”
“A warrior of the light, a shadow that will venture forth to battle our enemies. And not just one, many of them. I can birth only one per time, but a man’s body is different. In a single act of copulation, a man has the potential for thousands of lives.”
Theon felt faint. “How will they get out? Out my arse?”
“Yes,” Melisandre answered simply.
This is not happening. I am in the Bastard of Bolton’s dungeon. I’ve passed out from hunger. This is a dream, a horrible dream. When I awake up Ramsay will feed me a rat and call me his pet. The thought should not have comforted him, but it did.
“How much longer?” His belly was growing even more.
“Not long. Relax and let your body follow its instincts when the time comes.”
“I want a maester.”
“Those poor fools know nothing about this. They can’t help you.” She stroked Theon’s hair. “I’ll help you.”
By help she meant she’d scream at Theon to push. He pushed and pushed, like he’d eaten the old three-fingered cook’s stale mammoth roast. The thing - he refused to call it a baby - came. Then another followed it and another and yet another.
He was bleeding. The things were so bloody big. He was torn and bleeding and it hurt worse than being flayed and he was going to die. No, it was a dream and he couldn’t die in a dream. He wished he would awake up.
Melisandre kissed his temple. “Alas, the drawback of this method is that it drains all of the father’s life force. Do not fear death, Theon. R’hllor will welcome you and you will know peace and bliss in his arms forever more. And your name shall be remembered here. Men will speak of you as a great hero.”
“No!”
Another great pain wracked his body and merciful darkness came for Theon.