"Lord Commander, we caught these Wildlings sneaking their way south."
Ser Jaime put away the letters and looked beyond his desk. It was dark inside Castle Black, even during the day, but there were enough torches around him. His shoulders coated with black fur, he proudly glanced at the men of Night's Watch who brought in three Wildlings, chained and cuffed.
"Why bring them to me? Do what we do with Wildlings—have them dig their own graves, strip them, and put them in," Jaime ordered and looked back at the letter from his father. "We have more pressing matters."
"But my Lord, they say they are messengers of Mance Rayder."
Brows shot up, intrigued, Jaime got up to his feet and gave his full attention to the three wildlings. "And what message do they bring? Beg for food? Beg for clothes? Beg to be let in?"
"Heh! Beg? Fucking kneelers. We come to warn you of doom, boy."
Jaime let out a weary sigh, flicking his hand as if swatting away a fly. "Kill them. Double the watch while you're at it."
"Aye, my Lord."
"And send Ser Thorne. My Father has sent supplies our way."
Excited, the Night's Watch men hurried away. To them, electing Jaime Lannister as the new Lord Commander was the best thing that could have happened. The man was strict, just, learned, and most of all, rich. Food and clothing were no longer scarce resources at Castle Black.
Finally, Jaime sat back down and read his father's letter for the fourth time.
Aren't you being too ambitious, Father?
Nonetheless, he wrote back.
####
Red Keep was a mess.
The word of the King's abduction had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and now the alliances were being broken. The balance that Robert had built to keep the likes of Riverlands and the Vale in check broke apart.
While the North stood by, the support base of the Crown weakened, with only the Crownlands and the Stormlands standing as nearby backers. Stannis, having to deal with it all, tried his best to deal with the storm.
"Lord Varys, any word on the King's whereabouts?" Stannis glanced at the Master of Whispers inside the Small Council chamber.
"I'm afraid not, my Lord. He was last spotted in Volantis, boarding a ship bound east. A fortunate turn, perhaps, for there were no Golden Company men lurking in the shadows. And if whispers are to be believed, the Golden Company is a thing of the past."
"I am aware," Stannis said, arms crossed. "Ser Barristan's letter made that plain enough. Hard to believe, but not beyond reason—not if it is my brother. He lives, and he fights with purpose. I need only hold fast until he returns."
"Ah, there's the challenge, ain't it?" Ser Davos said, his voice low. "Our friends are few enough as it is, and without King Robert's hammer to keep 'em in line, they'll keep slipping away."
"We will endure," Stannis said, his tone final. "Lord Varys, if word reaches you of Robert or our enemies, I expect to hear of it."
"You'll be the first, my Lord."
With that, the Small Council meeting came to an end. But at the gates of the Red Keep, a goodbye was being said. With a fairly large, armed escort, Sansa was prepared to head back to the North as per Robert's wishes that were forwarded by the letter Ser Barristan had sent.
"I hate this," Myrcella whispered, clinging tightly to her friend. Her voice trembled as she asked, "You won't forget me, will you?"
Sansa hugged her and held her tears back. After having been through so much with her, having seen and experienced so much, having lost her virginity with her. This was a goodbye that struck hard.
"I would never, Myrcella. We'll meet again, I'm sure of that," Sansa promised and pulled herself back. "Visit me if you can."
Finally, Sansa looked at Jon and hugged him. Although she wasn't overly fond of him, she still considered him her brother.
"I wished you'd come with me."
"I can't, Sansa. I meant to take the black, but the King has other plans for me. I won't go against his will," Jon said and pressed folded letters into her hand. "Give these to Robb, Bran, and Arya, will you?"
"And please forward this to Bear Island!" Tommen said, stepping forward to hand Sansa a missive. "It's for Lady Lyanna Mormont."
Sansa chuckled, aware of the young Tommen's love story.
"I will." She pocketed the missives and stepped back towards the carriage. "I'll go now. Please, take care."
Myrcella waved fervently. She hated herself almost. She hated that Sansa was leaving, but at the same time, she loved it. When Robert would return, she wouldn't have Sansa to worry about, she reckoned.
And she hated herself for having such selfish thoughts.
"Be well," Myrcella muttered as her dear friend finally vanished inside the carriage.
####
"Bah! Yer a stubborn one, ain't ya, woman?" Robert grunted, staring down at Missandei's face. "Figured ye'd have the sense to piss off after the first night, but here ye are—seven bloody nights now! Hells, I'll give it to ya—I'm almost impressed."
Missandei barely heard him past the haze of pleasure clouding her mind, her body trembling beneath his sheer weight. She was sprawled under him, back arched against the bed, legs pulled up high against his shoulders, and knees folded tight against her flushed body. His strong arms locked her in place as he pressed down on her shorter frame.
She gasped at the overwhelming scrapes in her sensitive walls, again and again, each deep plunge forcing a shuddering moan from her lips.
"Ahhh…. Goo–ds…" Her moans grew louder, lewd cries spilling from her lips as his thrusts went deeper. She gasped each time he struck her cervix, again and again, each deep plunge forcing a shuddering moan from her lips.
She'd expected to get used to this by now, but she was wrong.
Robert watched eagerly as her full, dusky swells jolted between her knees with every brutal slap of his hips. The sight only urged him on, his palms tightening around the backs of her smooth thighs as he drove forward, drilling so deep she couldn't do anything but take him, her body molded to his will by now.
She'd willingly offered herself to him, and now he had every right to do as he pleased.
The air was thick and heavy with the scent of sweat, and the musky evidence of their relentless fucking. The sheets beneath her were utterly ruined, damp from the hours of their bodies colliding against each other, rocking in a lustful rhythm. The frothy, white, proof of her multiple climaxes coated her thighs and his cock. Robert never relented, not even once, plowing into her with the unyielding force of a man who took what he wanted, and he made certain she wanted it too.
Missandei shuddered violently, her slippery walls clamping around his iron-hard cock as the ecstasy gripped her body once more. Her neck arched back, forcing her head deeper into the bedding, eyes fluttering as the pleasure threatened to overtake her completely.
Robert smirked, catching the signs of her losing herself completely. Her mouth parted in a silent cry of bliss, her eyelashes fluttering, her body twitching beneath him. But he wasn't having that, not yet.
He extended a hand and smacked lightly against her flushed cheek, just enough to bring her back, to force those golden eyes open and stay on him. He wanted her to see what he was doing; what he was doing to her needy pussy, and witness her body reacting in a frenzy.
"Look at me," he growled, rough with hunger, his thrusts unrelenting. "Don't you fuckin' dare lose yourself yet, woman."
"Ughhh~" Missandei whimpered, dazed, her nails scraping weakly against his biceps.
Robert merely grinned before shoving his cock even deeper into her, ready to chase his own release. "Hah! What's this now? Did yer queen pawn off yer twat, or did she send ye to wiggle it at me like a barmaid short on coin? If so, bad news, lass—I ain't bitin'. Had finer cunts than yers, ones with more fire, ones that didn't roll over like a whipped dog soon as I unbuckled me belt!"
"Yes–shh.. Ah… ahhhh…. Fuck! Yes! Oohhh Yes!!" Missandei was too far gone, her body a melting mess of sweat and juices under him.
Her moans were high-pitched and desperate, a sinful melody echoing off the stone walls. Her fingers twitched, reaching for him, subconsciously looking for something to ground herself, anything. His face, his jaw, the rough strength of his muscular body. She traced his sharp cheekbones, dragging her trembling fingers across his sweat-slicked skin, down to the thick column of his throat where she felt the rumble of his voice.
"You... Fuckin'... Love… This… Don't, you?" Robert slammed in deep with every word, the sound of the flesh clapping threatening to leave wounds.
______________________
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