Prince Cedran cursed as another wave of chilling wind hit him square on, clutching tighter to the thick cloak that hung from his body in an effort to battle the colds of the unforgiving North.
"Are you cold my Prince?" Salomon Storm, his sworn shield and mentor of many years, asked, his voice stoic as it often was, "Perhaps-" The Prince cut him off before he could say anything, already knowing what he would suggest.
"Bugger that," He said, "As soon as I enter that carriage, my father would get word of it and I wouldn't hear the end of it," Cedran said to his mentor, before falling to silence once again, riding beside each other as more cold winds assaulted them, although something was missing, "Where is Arn?" He asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer...
"He is with his... Companion," The prince snorted, ignoring Sal's obvious dissaproval. Lucky fucker, he could not even look at anyone, lest his mother found out and tried to ruin his fun as she so often did, which was a shame since one of the Darry's had quite the interest in him, so much so that her rapid advances had even alerted his little brother Tommen, (he didn't know how it worked mind you, he was just startled by the girl's eagerness) another reason why his mother was so watchful over his potentially fruitful activities.
And partially because she thought he got it from his father, which was false mind you, he would be dead before he even thought of touching a whore, he had standards, and highborn bastards were more useful, should it come to that.
He sighed wistfully, thinking of the morning he might have had if not for all his mother's spies, or his cousins lechery, he could not blame Arn for it though, Cedran would have done the same in his stead, "This morning just became a bit more boring," He said sulkingly, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself.
"As you say, Your Highness," His tone did not betray a reaction against the harshness of his words, and he was unreadable as one could ever be. They rode in pace with the Kings Procession. The King roaring orders, the Queen's carriage (filled with 3 fourths of her litter) creaking over every small rock it went over.
They traveled in silence after his undoubtedly uncalled for words, but he knew Salomon wouldn't hold it against him, he'd been his mentor for about 6 years, not as much as his father, but certainly more than any other one his mother had forced upon him, he would attribute his mood-swings, which were common especially these past weeks because of the open road and how stressed he was under the watchful gaze of both his father and mother.
He'd not meant to be so harsh, but he wouldn't be sorry for his words were the truth. For all his wise mentoring and all the years of Loyal Service under his banner, Sal just could not offer the level of camradery that Arn offered, he was too stoic against their youthful energy, he was too faithful against their cynical upbringing, and he was too serious, while the two were anything but and his tendency to lecture his two younger students meant that there was always some rift he would not be able to fill.
He wasn't that pleasent to look at either, purely because he reminded him of both his Uncle Stannis, and his Grandfather Tywin, with harsh facial features, always slanted eyes that made men question if they were doing it on purpose or not, similar build, and a balding head, even though Sal was only 35. Thankfully he wasn't a bastard of either, since neither man would consider touching another woman, also his eyes were a commoner's brown, a trait descended unto him from his lowborn father. Not a tale he cared to know, since it was as interesting as the crease currently present on the man's forehead...
He sulked further as more hours passed without the slightest bit of an expected appearance on Arn's part, although it wasn't eventless as the Queen's carriage broke a wheel when it was trying to scale a particularly large rock, he heard screams and a roar as the whole Procession came to a full stop, he could hear his mothers screams mixed amongst his mothers, some Joffrey peppered along it as well.
How pleasent...
Although it had given him a chance, everyone was distracted, he quickly dismounted his black stallion and gave the reigns to Sal, who had done the same, "Find Arn, and meet me near father when we are ready to move out," He couldn't miss his chance, especially after he'd missed countless other when the same exact thing happened, that carriage was prone to breaking...
He made to leave, but Sal's voice stopped him, "Your mother won't be happy about this Cedran," He was using his name, that meant he was serious, although he couldn't care less, he needed to leave before the confusion wore off.
"She won't if she doesen't find out Sal, so you're not going to tell her," He said, tapping his foot on the hard soil beneath his feet as he waited for him to confirm his orders, and smirked when he sighed and nodded, with an expression on his face that told him that his Mentor would be praying forgiveness to the Seven for his soul, he would be wasting his breath, but he would let him have that.
He patted him on the shoulder in false reassurance, before turning around and heading for one of the countless ladies that chose to come with them to Winterfell, he knew their handmaidens to be susceptible to his charms, it would be an easy way to get a quick lay, and after that they would be on their way back to the Starks, although for his own sake, Cedran hoped Arn would be there once they got a move on...
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