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Clutching the small box of oils and incense tightly to her chest, Ros following the Captain of the Winterfell guard through what seemed like a maze of passageways, avoiding seemingly everyone and everything as they walked. At first, she'd been thrilled when her madam had come and told her that none other than Jory Cassel had come to call upon her, but when she'd come to him, fully prepared to give him her best, he calmly told her to put on a cloak that would hide her face and gather what she needed to apply her full trade and then she was to follow him.
This was, unusual as the madam preferred, for the safety of the girls, for anything to happen in the brothel. But considering who was asking, both Ros and her madam didn't find reason to refuse the request. So quick as she could, Ros gathered a what few oils and incense she had to her name, the cost of which was worth nearly full moons turn of work, and followed Jory out of the brothel and towards, what she'd assumed at the time, were his personal quarters. But as they made their way further and further into Winterfell, she slowly came to the realization that they were not going to his quarters. Especially as they left what she knew was the soldiers barracks behind and entered the main keep through a servant's passage. 'Theon perhaps?' she wondered. 'No…He prefers Tyna over myself or even anyone else it seems. But then…who? It can't be one of the Starks. The elder boys are either now married or promised, and the last boy is far, far too young. Then…who?'
After one of the longest walks of her life, Jory stopped before a set of doors and gently knocked on the wood. She couldn't make out the voice within, but Jory could and made to open the door for her. Giving him a thankful nod, and eager to end her wonder as to who had called for her, Ros stepped past Jory and – and nearly dropped the small crate she'd had in her hands. She was in the Lord's chambers! And sitting no more than a dozen paces from her, bent over and writing on a piece of parchment was none other than the Lord of Winterfell himself!
"Lord Stark," Ros greeted the man awkwardly, trying to bow while keeping her hold on her valuables while also trying to figure out just why she'd been called before the Lord of the North himself. A man who'd taken no interest in any woman outside the Lady Stark since he'd returned from winning the Rebellion against the Targaryens. 'I haven't broken any laws…I haven't disappointed anyone or made issues…Why would he call on me?'
"Ros, correct?" Lord Stark said, saying her name and nearly making her shiver at hearing his deep voice.
"Aye, milord," Ros nodded, doing all she could to keep her nerves steady. "Um, you…you wished to speak with me, milord?"
"I do," Lord Stark nodded, setting his quill aside and looking up at her for the first time. By the gods…his eyes were like ice! Yet, still there was a warmth to them that made her shift her legs as desire built within her. "I…have need of your…services."
Ros blinked. Sure, she was prepared to offer her services tonight for whoever had called upon her. But never in a hundred years would she have even dared to think that the one seeking her services would be the Lord of Winterfell himself! Quickly composing herself, Ros's mind work quickly to figure out what type of services the Lord Stark would want. Most seeking her services just wanted a quick moment of relief. However, others often sought more. They didn't just want a quick moment of pleasure; they wanted a companion for a brief time. Lord Stark, she reckoned, was of the second type. And having figure that, the next question was just what type of companion he wanted? Aggressive? No. Passive? No, definitely not. A comforting body? Yes…yes. Based on the way he held himself, she could tell he was tied tighter than a sailor's knot. He needed comfort. A body to support him tonight. To take away his burdens if only for a short time.
Setting her small box aside, Ros slowly and purposefully reached up to the ties of her cloak and undid them, letting the heavy cloak fall to the ground revealing herself to Lord Stark. She heard the slight hitch in his breath, she had to keep herself from smirking in triumph. Lysana, a recently escaped pleasure slave from Yunkai of all places, had decided to do what she knew best and took up residence in the brothel here in Winter Town after arriving in the North. And while they were wary of her at first, the girl had a lot of good advice. One of which was that it wasn't what you weren't wearing, but rather what you were wearing that could drive a man, or woman, mad with lust. And she'd taken that advice to heart and purchased a set of lace underclothes from White Harbor for special occasions. And this certainly counted as a special occasion.
Approaching Lord Stark slowly, Ros reached out with her right hand when they were within arms reach of each other. Placing the tips of her fingers against the back of his hand, Ros slowly trailed her fingers up his arm and to his shoulders and back as she moved around behind him. It was awkward with his chair in the way, but Ros was able to set both hands on his back and, using her thumbs and palms, began working the muscles in his back. She chose this approach because, despite clearly not being a maid, Lord Stark was clearly as nervous as a maid boy on his first time. But the moment her hands started working his back, Lord Stark immediately began to relax beneath her touch, bringing a smile to her face. Leaning close, she pressed her breasts against his back and leaned forward so her lips were right next to his ear. "You carry the weight of the North on your shoulders, Lord Stark. You protect us all and ask for so little in return. For this night, milord, let me be the one to help you carry your burden."
She could feel Lord Stark slowly relax. He'd even let his head roll down as her hands worked his muscles. Soon enough, they were on his bed with him shirtless and face down while she worked oils into the muscles of his back, arms, and legs. Each time she got a moan or groan of pleasure from the Quiet Wolf sent a thrill right to her core, causing her to redouble her efforts get more from him. Her body was slick from the oil as she rubbed him down with not just her hands. "Onto your front, Lord Stark," she said, more than slightly breathlessly as the Quiet Wolf rolled beneath her, leaving her straddling his hardness. 'By the gods! Madam wasn't kidding when she said that all the wolves were blessed by the gods in more ways than one!' she thought as she couldn't help but grind herself against him.
When she looked up into her eyes, she froze. His grey winter eyes were gone. Replaced instead with dark yellow wolf eyes. Eyes that he supposedly only had when he was angry…but she knew that look well enough to know that he was not angry. But rather almost completely lost to his lust. Yet despite the clear lust and his wolf eyes…he remained still…hard…but still. 'Gods…what does it take to make him lose himself! I – I want him to lose control! I need him too!'
Leaning down, Ros let him feel her completely as she brought her lips once again to his ears. "You don't need to hold back tonight, Lord Stark. Let go of yourself. Do what you want…Let me be the one to carry your burdens tonight."
To emphasis her point, she let her tongue sneak out and trace his ear. And that was his breaking point. Before she knew what happened he had flipped the two of them, tore her small clothes, and entered her in a single hard thrust. 'Gods! Blessed indeed!' she nearly screamed, wrapping her arms and legs around the Lord Stark, urging him to give her everything he had. Ros wasn't sure how long exactly she lasted, but eventually the sheer pleasure and force behind her night with Lord Stark got the better of her and she went completely limp and passed out.
By the time she finally awoke, she could just barely make out the beginnings of sunlight filtering in through the shutters of Lord Stark's room. Smiling and stretching in the bed, Ros took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation of the best night she'd ever had doing what she did. In all of her time working, she could honestly count on one hand the number of times she'd peaked with others during her services. But last night with Lord Stark…she'd peaked more times than she could count! And unlike most men who spent themselves and were done. Lord Stark just kept going! He must've spent himself at least five times at least! Gods…It was a wonder that the late Lady Stark ever left the marriage bed! Or that she'd born only five wolf pups.
That thought brought her up short as a hand traveled to her womb, where she knew Lord Stark's seed was in. As tempting as the thought of carrying a wolf child was, she was no noble-chaser, a whore looking to bare a noble bastard in hopes of an easy life. She would have to make sure that she drank moon tea today…and tomorrow. Perhaps a whole pot!
"I've had food prepared…I thought you would be hungry after last night."
Cracking an eye open, Ros spotted Lord Stark sitting beside the bed, unfortunately fully clothed. Sitting on a small table beside him was a tray full of food, some of which had been eaten showing that the Quite Wolf had not waited for her to break his fast. "I tried to wake you, but you were sleeping soundly."
Smirking, Ros sensually rose from the bed, letting the covers slowly slip down her body to reveal herself to him once again. Though he'd already seen all of her, and then some, last night, she still felt a thrill go through her at seeing him stare. "I'm quite…ravenous, milord," she said, crawling across the bed towards him. "But not necessarily for food right now. Perhaps we might…share some more time together?"
Unfortunately for her, the Quiet Wolf's eyes didn't change like they did last night, which told her all she needed to know. "Would that I could, but I have duties that must be seen to," he said before producing a small coin pouch and setting it on the table beside the food. "You are free to eat your fill and even bring some back with you if you wish."
The dismissal was clear. And while part of her was disappointed that the best night of her life was coming to an end, she knew better than to press her luck. "Thank you, milord. Your generosity is most becoming." Keeping her smile in place, she got up from the bed and went about gathering her now ruined small clothes and heavy cloak.
By the time she was dressed in what she had, Lord Stark had vacated his seat, giving her a place to sit and eat. Lord Stark made for his door, but then stopped and turned back towards her. "I…offer my apologies if I was too…forward with you."
The sincerity in his voice made Ros smile. He was by far from the roughest man she'd had. But unlike most, Lord Stark was able to walk the line between pain and pleasure with an expert's precision. "You did nothing I did not wish of you milord. If anything, I need to offer you my thanks for the best night I have ever had."
She smirked as she saw the small swell of Lord Stark's chest. It never hurt to inflate a potential client's ego. And in this case, she wasn't just doing so for the sake of it. She truly meant it. "If…if I should have need of you again…"
Now Ros was smirking fully. "You need only send work milord. Both the madam and I understand discretion, better than any of the other girls at least. None will see me come and go if that is what you wish."
"You have my thanks, Ros." Lord Stark nodded before motioning towards the foods. "Help yourself. And should I have…need of you again I will send word."
Picking up a biscuit, Ros closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste as Lord Stark left her to eat. 'The best night of sex in my life and a fully cooked castle meal after…I could get used to this.' She thought as she picked up the coin purse and emptied its contents. She was expecting her normal rate for a night. But what she was not expecting was the several heavy gold coins and handful of silver that fell out. 'By the gods! I can use this to easily replace what was used or damaged last night…and still have more than enough left over to not have to work for full moons turn!' Smiling she began playing with the coins on the table. 'Let Tyna keep the Greyjoy…honestly, he isn't that great of a lover. If all goes well, I'll have the Quiet Wolf himself as a patron from now on!'
Sitting with his head in his hands, Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King wallowed in despair as he stared blankly at the tome laid out before him. Everything had been going right. The land was almost completely unified, ensuring that the dragons would never again take hold of the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei had married Robert, tying the Lannisters to the Iron Throne. His appointment as Hand, along with Robert's relationship with Ned Stark had ensured the North and the Vale would always side with them. And with Ned came the Riverlands through his marriage to Catelyn. A strong alliance, but not the complete unification Jon truly wished for. No. That had taken years of effort. But it had paid off.
The Iron Isles, always willful and thumbing their nose at the Throne, had been severely and soundly dealt with to the point where it would be generations before they ever attempted to go back to the Old Ways. Then Sansa Starks betrothal to Willas had tied the Reach and the North, and hence to the crown though he knew without a doubt that Olenna's true motivation in arranging such a betrothal was to clear the way for her granddaughter Margaery to be the primary choice for the next Queen of Westeros. From what he'd heard of the girl, she would indeed make a good Queen for the realm. And recently, word had reached them of the confirmed betrothal between Jon Stark and Arianne Martel. That was a fact that had caused no small amount of relief in Jon. While it wouldn't bring Dorne back into the fold fully, it would ensure that should Dorne try anything, their land would be fractured by the simple fact that their Prince Consort was a Stark.
Robb Stark had also served his purpose in providing security to the realm. While Jon would've preferred if the Heir to the North had married a Lady from Westeros to help solidify ties within the realm, he could not fault the boy's choice in bride. In fact, his union to this Talisa Maegyr had given Westeros an unintended boon in that it took away Volantis as a potential ally to the Beggar King, Viserys Targaryen. Jon had even started to play around with the idea of approaching Ned about betrothing his own son Robyn to Ned's last daughter, Arya. Word had reached him that the girl was…difficult and headstrong. But, honestly, Jon thought that she would do well for his soft son. She might end up ruling the Vale for a time, but he was confident that one day Robyn would come into his Arryn bloodline and make sure that the girl was put in her proper place.
There were also dozens of other betrothals, fostering, and other relationship building exchanges that he was working on. A potential match between Ned's last son and Stannis's daughter or perhaps even the former bastard Lannister girl, both of whom were in Winterfell much to the plans benefit. And with the crown children they had their pick of the litter as it were. Afterall, no House would dare turn down the opportunity to have either a Prince or Princess marry into their House. All he needed to do was convince Robert of the benefits and the land would be completely unified. And for the briefest of moments, he saw a glimmer of hope. The sight of his plans finally being complete. But now…now it all laid in ruin. And he had no idea how to fix this mess.
'There is no fixing it,' he despaired. 'This will be war. A war that will tear the realm apart once again. Just as it was torn apart during Robert's Rebellion and during the Dance of Dragons. And this time…I will not be around long enough to try and fix the mess that is made. Why…no…how? How could they be so…so stupid!'
Laid out before him was the book he had requested from the Grand Maester, the Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. A compendium of the members of each great House within Westeros that was continuously being added to with each child born into said House. And it was currently sitting open on the pages containing the lineage of House Baratheon, all the way back to the House's founder, Orys Baratheon. And each male, or even female, born of the Baratheon line had one thing in common. No matter the mother, if their sire was a Baratheon, then the child would be born dark of hair and blue of eyes. All save for the very last entries in the book. 'Joffrey Baratheon…gold of hair and green of eyes.' Lannister traits through and through.'
Perhaps if it had just been one of the royal children, then Jon would have not paid the matter any mind. But all three of the royal children were the same. Gold of hair and green of eyes. All their mother, and none of their father. Or at least the man who should be their father.
When he'd first come upon the suspicion of what Cersei was doing, his first instinct was to immediately bring his findings to Robert. But he put that to the side almost immediately. He had not lived this long and achieved as much as he had by being foolish. And accusing the Queen, and a Lannister at that, of adultery against her husband the King would be as good as throwing the realm into immediate war. So, he had bided his time and made subtle inquiries regarding the King's other children, his bastard children. If he was going to expose Cersei for the crimes, he knew she was committing, then he needed proof that not even Tywin Lannister could refute.
It'd taken several moons, but eventually he'd managed to track down almost all of Roberts bastard children. From there, he made inquiries on the children's appearance and that of their mother. And just as it had for centuries, the Baratheon seed held strong. No matter the mother, each of Robert's bastards that he'd managed to find were all dark of hair and blue of eyes. There was now no doubt in his mind. Cersei was not only committing adultery, though with whom he did not know but he did have suspicions, but she was trying to pass off her children as Robert's children. Adultery and treason.
But even knowing this, he was not able to act. Not yet. For every one Baratheon or Arryn guardsmen in King's Landing there was one Lannister man. And while the Goldcloaks were far more reliable than they had been under Janos Slynt, they could still be bought. And even the combined fortunes of the Baratheons and Arryns could not hope to compete with the gold mines of the House Lannister. As galling as it was to admit, Jon needed more allies before he could expose the Queen for her crimes. Specifically, he needed the one man in all the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps all the world, that could give Tywin Lannister pause. The Sorcerer himself, Alim Nox. Jon's plan was to approach Ned, as he was the only man that the Sorcerer showed even an inkling of listening too, during the King's Tourney at Harrenhal. Once he had Ned on his side, then they would get the Sorcerer to fall in line. And once he had the Sorcerer on his side, he would publicly denounce the Queen during the tourney for her indiscretions. There would be a trial of course, perhaps even a trial by combat. But he was confident that between Robert and Ned, they would be able to convince either Ser Barristan or even the Sorcerer himself to stand as champion for the crown.
But the issue with his plan was the timing. There was still a fair amount of time, moons, until the highborn of Westeros even began thinking of heading for Harrenhal. And there was also the issue of succession to consider once the Queen had been ousted and the false royal children revealed. Ideally, Robert would name a new queen and sire a child immediately, but with Robert's age and sickness, that was unlikely to happen in a timely manner. Which meant that Stannis was the King's heir, and more than likely the next King of the Seven Kingdoms. And he was another that Jon needed on his side.
To his surprise, when he'd approached Stannis about his findings a day past, the man had not seemed surprised in the least. Apparently, after meeting and interacting with Robert's bastard in Winterfell, Stannis had begun suspecting something was off with the royal children and had been quietly conducting his own inquiries. Stannis had agreed to Jon's approach; however, he was not keen to the idea that he would need to return to Dragonstone until the matter was settled. It'd taken the better part of a day, but in the end, Jon had managed to convince Stannis to see things his way. Should word get out of what was happening, he had no doubt that Cersei would take steps to silence him and to remove any potential threat to her children's false claim. So until the matter was settled and Stannis was officially named as the future King of Westeros, it would be best for him to retreat to the one place that Cersei, and Tywin, would have difficulty reaching him.
"Lord husband…are you planning on staying here for the night or shall you be coming back to your chambers tonight?"
Glancing up, Jon frowned as he saw that his wife, Lysa Arryn, had entered the Hand's Chambers seemingly without him even realizing it. There was no great secret that their marriage was not one of love. He tried to do what he could for his wife, but honestly after years and years of trying to appease her, he'd simply given up. And the years had not truly been kind to her. Her Tully beauty had faded fast. And there were more than a few tales going around the city that she was a bit touched in the head due to her many miscarriages. Tales that he tried desperately to snuff out, but privately he would admit that the tales were truth. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for the fact that Hoster would've withheld the Riverlands support during the Rebellion, and if he hadn't been so desperate for an heir, then he would have never married the woman.
"I will not be returning to my chambers tonight," he said, closing the book and putting it out of sight. "And I will not be calling on you tonight. I have far too much to do. You may go."
Lysa's eyes remained impassive as she nodded. "As you say, Lord husband. I shall take my leave of you tonight."
"One thing," he said, stopping Lysa just as she'd turned around to leave. "Lord Stannis will be leaving King's Landing in the next few days to return to Dragonstone. When he does, he will be taking our son back with him to foster."
Lysa turned around so quickly that Jon was sure she'd torn her dress. "What?!" she screeched. Not screamed, screeched. "You can't!"
"Yes, I can and I have," Jon replied evenly, trying to keep a hold on his temper as he faced down his wife. "It will be good for him."
"No, no, no, no! You can't take him! You can't take my Sweet Robyn away from me! I won't let you!"
Years of putting up with his wife's antics, as well as the stress of what he'd uncovered about the Queen and the royal children, finally caused him to break as he slammed his fist down against his desk. "I already have!" Jon yelled, rising to his feet. "This decision does not belong to you, wife. Robert's upbringing is my decision! Mine, not yours! You have coddled him so much that I'm almost ashamed to call him my son! He will go with Stannis and learn how to be a proper heir, away from your meddling! And, you wife, you will remember your proper place and not question me again! Am I clear?!"
Jon had rarely, if ever, raised his voice to Lysa. He'd always given her plenty of room and rarely called upon her to take care of his needs. But now he could see that in doing so he'd done her a disservice as she'd clearly forgotten her place as his wife. He should've been far firmer with her years ago. Something he would have to make sure his son clearly understood, especially if his negotiations with Ned worked out for his second daughter's hand. "But…But Robyn… You just ca—!"
"Enough. I will say no more on the matter," Jon cut in sharply, eyeing her with a hard look as he retook his seat. "Once Stannis leaves in a few days. And I will grant you a few days after his departure to spend time with Robert before he follows suit and departs for Dragonstone. After he is gone, I believe it would be best for you to spend some time with your father and brother in the Riverlands."
"I – I understand," Lysa nodded diminutively, like a good proper wife. "How long shall I be visiting my father and brother?"
"Till I call for you," he responded simply, grabbing a few pieces of blank parchment so that he could begin writing down several sets of instructions. "That is all I have for you. You may leave for your chambers."
"Yes, lord husband," Lysa nodded, her eyes downcast as she turned and left him alone.
'She will understand in time. This is the best for Robert and for the future. My son will learn under Stannis, the future King of Westeros. And in time he will be betrothed to a daughter of House Stark. And knowing what I know about that girl, Robert will need a firm hand and a strong will to turn her into a proper wife and mother.' Setting aside such thoughts, Jon focused on his work, barely acknowledging his squire Hugh as the lad brough him some refreshments later that evening.
Early the next morning, after only a moment of sleep, Jon joined his wife to break his fast before the start of the day. Lysa was clearly subdued after their conversation last night and did little more than pour him his morning drink and serve him his food before taking her place beside him and picking lightly at her own meal.
"I have a small council meeting starting soon," he informed his wife as he finished off his meal. "See to it that Robert is informed of his future fostering and then escort him to the yard for his lessons."
"As you wish, my lord husband." Lysa nodded solemnly, getting up and leaving the table after eating less than half her food and only taking a few sips of her drink.
Finishing his own food, Jon got up and made his way towards the Small Council chambers. Yet as he walked, he couldn't help but feel a slight…chill in the air. 'The summer years have lasted for a long time…Perhaps one of the longest either. It would only make sense that the fall years are finally coming upon us,' he thought as a slight shiver went through him. 'Still, I will have to ask the Maester to confirm the changing of the years. If we truly are coming upon the fall years, then we will have to take more steps in arranging proper accommodations for the visiting lords and ladies during the tourney to come.'
Arriving in the small council chambers, he was only slightly surprised to see that both Stannis and Robert, the latter of whom was eating some bread with a cup of wine in hand, had beaten him to the meeting hall. "Lord Stannis, your grace," he nodded, greeting each man in turn before taking his seat.
Sharing a look with Stannis, the three men sat in relative silence as the King broke his fast. Stannis was as stoic as always, but Jon had known the man long enough to see that he was still uneasy about keeping the truth from the King. 'One day he will know,' Jon thought as he tugged at the neck of his tunic, feeling both a slight chill and heat running through him. 'But that day is not today.'
Quickly enough, the rest of the members of the Small Council arrived and Robert called a start to the meeting. As they talked about the matters of the realm, Jon started finding it harder and harder to pay attention as he kept feeling a shift between a chill and a wave of heat. "Lord Hand…Are you alright, my Lord?"
Blinking, Jon shook his head, only just now realizing that all of the members of the Small Council, including Robert, were staring at him. "I'm fine," he responded, though it was in a slight rasp as he felt a cough tickling in his throat. "Change of the seasons…and I did not sleep much last night."
"Shit, Jon. You're not a young man anymore. Hells, none of us are, save for my little shit of a brother here," Robert said, waving a hand towards Renly, who didn't even seem to mind the mild insult that'd been delivered to him. "If you got a chill or a fever, just fucking say so and we'll meet later when it passes."
"I'm fine, your grace," Jon replied, reaching for the pitcher on the table and pouring himself a cup of water before turning towards Varys and trying to remember what exactly the eunuch had been discussing before he lost track of the conversation. "Lord Varys…I believe you were saying that you've had word from your spy in Essos regarding the Targaryens and the Dothraki?"
Nodding, Varys folded his hands together and placed them on the table. "Yes, Lord Hand. And I fear it will not be welcome news. Our spy has confirmed that Daenerys Targaryen is pregnant with the child of Khal Drogo."
Jon had to force himself to pay attention as Robert sat up straighter in his seat. "I thought you said that you had your little birds flying to take care of this issue Varys?"
"I have sent them out, your grace," Varys replied calmly. "However, getting close enough to do what needs to be done is difficult. Viserys, while he stays on the outside of the camp for the most part, is still not easy to reach. And I have had no luck in convincing any of my birds to make an attempt against the Khal."
"Get it fucking done! I don't care how much gold you have to spend or what titles you need to promise! I want one or both of those fuckers dead before that whore whelps her horse-lord brat!" Robert growled at Varys before turning towards the Grand Maester. "Jeorge, how much time do we have before Drogo turns his horde towards Westeros, now that the whore is pregnant?"
The Grand Maester leaned back and thought about his answer. "Drogo will wait until his child is born…then perhaps another a few moons after that to make sure that the baby survives. Given Daenerys state of childbearing…I would say that we have at least a year until Drogo truly begins to turn his atten—"
Jon's hand slapped down hard against the table as his vision spun. His body began sweating, yet he felt colder than he'd ever felt in his life. He could vaguely hear Robert shouting something, but he sounded so far away despite the fact Jon knew they were in the same room. He tried to rise to his feet, but his legs failed him. The moment he put his weight forward, his knees folded and last he saw was the stone floor rushing up to greet him.
Waking in the dead of the night, Nox felt his Nyra murmur in her sleep and wrap her arms tighter around his exposed chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Reaching out with the Force and trying to find what woke him, Nox immediately found his answer as he felt the slight disturbance. It was slight, the passing of one from the land of the living to becoming one with the Force. But it was significant. Like ripples in a pond. Immediately, Nox knew what had happened, and what it meant. 'And now, the game truly begins.'