Update: A Trailer for Reign of the Fallen has been place on youtube under the name: "Wattpad Trailer: Reign of the Fallen"
Reign of the Fallen
A Game of Thrones Fanfiction
By Millie55
Cassius
The pressure that had come with lordship had exceeded the expectations of the new lord of Gwhendel. Cassius knew it was not going to be easy to fill his father's shoes, but it was ten times more difficult than anticipated. There were complaints to be heard, sentences to pass and his family to care for all while assuring that those on his land were safe during the times of war. In the days following his father's absence he had already been forced to take a man's hand, another he had sent to the wall. He was making himself known as a strong lord with little to know mercy for those who tried to go against their laws. Cassius demanded and earned the respect of his people.
Gaining this respect however, was tiresome. With dusk falling, Cassius had retired to his chambers early. Sitting at the end of the bed, his back arched over, elbows resting on his knees. From there his head was in his hands, swarmed with his duties and the pressures he now faced. One however weighed heaviest on his mind. As the Lord of Fort Stryder, he would need to produce an heir to follow. For that to happen however, he would first need to take a wife. The thought brought him great anxiety, to the point of illness. His parents did not yet betroth him. Now it seemed, that it was left to his choosing. His options seemed quite slim in his mind. There was the Whitehill girl, hell, he didn't even know her name but knew she was not a true option for him. This was due to a history he did not quite understand. His family was allied with many along side House Forrester. It had been one held strong for many years, one that their families greatly respected. The Whitehills and the Forrester Houses had been enemies for as long as Cassius could remember. He would not destroy the alliance with House Forrester just for the chance of an heir. There had to be more options.
Standing, Cassius began to walk the room. Long strides carried him around the perimeter, the thought of different woman coming an going in his mind. The Stark girls were out of the question. Sansa had wed Lord Tyrion and no one knew of Aria's status. She was dead for all he knew. For a long while, he contemplated perusing Lady Mira Forrester. The eldest of the Forrester girls. Born after Rodrick and Asher, the same year as his sister Delilah. Her situation was complicated however, she serves as a handmaiden to Margery Tyrell. Retrieving her would be as difficult as bring Delilah home.
As he tried to brainstorm other noble women, but his mind however kept stumbling back to one who held little to no value in the eyes of man. Ingrid, the simple whore. Something about her had drawn him in, leaving his mind to fall on her day and night. Cassius wanted so desperately to return to her room at the brothel, and indulge in all she had to offer. Yet, he resisted. Could taking her hand be the answer? Was it something he could even consider? His parents wouldn't let him marry a whore, would they?
The thoughts made his head spin, an arm reaching out to steady himself on a near chair. It was a pair of gentle hands meeting his back to keep him steady that made Cassius realize he was no longer alone. His mother had made her way into his room, a worried expression on her face from seeing him stumble.
"I am well mother," he promised her, turning around to take her cold hands in his. He did his best to assure her, but he could tell by the look in her bright eyes that she did not believe it for a second. "A lot be on my mind," he admitted after a moment, his large hands letting go of her small so he could sit in the chair he once sought support from. The wood was firm and strong underneath him, his legs spread as her lounged in his seat.
Feminine fingers found his black curls, stroking the silken strands in attempt to sooth the lord. Tension was evident in the way his shoulders rested stiffly, and how his breaths were constantly shallow. Unlike his father, Cassius liked to keep things to himself, to show no weakness. As he sat alone with his mother, the new lord was beginning to crack.
"I don't know what to do mother," he muttered through dry lips, "There is so much happening at once. My mind knows no rest. Constantly thinking. Worrying. In days, I have not slept." How his father did this, Cassius would never understand. Then again, his father spent years as their Lord, many of which lay dormant from war. Until now. "The Boltons ride for Fort Stryder to ask for our fealty and I have no bride to bare me an heir. No woman of noble birth can be mine mother. Not now, not while allegiances will be made or broken by this bond I choose make."
"You need not marry one of noble birth," she promised him as hands traveled down to stroke the smooth skin of his neck. "You marry any of your choosing and if she does not give you a son, another can take her place," she assured him.
Features distorted. He could not think of a woman in such a way. They were not something to be thrown away. Cassius would fully commit to his bride. She would be his, and he would be hers. Together they would rule. "There is only one woman I want, but what others will think. She is no honest woman mother, but a whore," he broke to her, voice weak.
Adilayde was silent for a long time. Her hands could no longer be felt against the warm of his skin. His words had obviously taken her by surprise. Fear filled Cassius' chest, terrified what his mother now thought of him. He was not a man to bed another whore every night, he had yet to lay in bed with any woman. It was just that young Ingrid had captured his heart with her sinful temptations. "She had been brought to the brothel not long after the Red Wedding. She is took beautiful to be within those walls mother-"
Mismatched eyes found their way to his mother, looking at her desperately. She had to give him guidance. Tell him what to do. Cassius knew what his heart wanted, but was that something the rest of the realm could understand? Would they respect him as greatly as they did now if they knew he planned to wed a whore?
"If she accepts your proposal," Adilayde spoke out, her voice firm with control. Cassius may be lord, but she would never stop being his mother. "No one can know of where she had come from. Those who do, will be payed off and if they dare to speak we send them to the wall. I will not have the reputation of this House be lost on a common whore."
It was a difficult task not to be offended by the words of his own mother. This difficult part was that she was right. It was not everyday a man of his status would degrade himself so low to actually marry a whore. Fuck them? Yes, but never more than that. With all his force, the young Lord had to bite his tongue as to not treat his mother with disrespect. He swore, at one point he could taste blood.
"Of course mother," he finally sounded after he fought back the words he truly wanted to speak, "no one will know, just she and I. You and me. It will be the best for our family." Suddenly, he felt guilty. Would he be able to keep this secret from all? If he couldn't, what consequence would it have on their people. "Mother I-"
"Hush my son," he spoke, her voice taking a gentler tone now, "all will be well. Although a whore, this will be a safer move for our family. We draw no set allegiance in the snow with your joining. It will give us the time needed to prepare for the war we have now become apart of."
"There is only one clear side to be on mother," Cassius claimed to her gently, "and that is the side in which opposes those of the Frey. They are responsible for taking Zachariah from us. I will not let them get away with it. If I much run with the wolves, then so be it."
"And risk further loss-"
"It is a risk that need to be taken, it will not go unjustified. I would render myself slain if it meant that any man that followed me into battle would avenge the death of my brother. It is not me that they wanted as their lord, but him. I am not the only one angered by his loss. We will have an army, one that will bring justice to the North."
"It is no you who gets to decide when and if justice is served for your brother," Adilayde displeased him with her words. "It is not you that is Warden of the North, but Roose Bolton. His bastard will be at our gates come morning to ask for our fealty. Resisting would not end well for you my son. Please, do as he asks of you-"
His mother's words had been begging, and caused his heart to ache. How could he be expected to kneel before those who had taken their position from the Stark's so viciously? His mother couldn't expect him to roll over and submit, could she?
"I do not know if that is an act I can allow. They fought alongside the Frey's, mother. They had a hand in this battle. They had slain Robb Stark. My brother - Your son!"
The room fell silent, all that went heard was the wind whistling through the window cracks. No one moved, eyes glued to the other. Angers was all Cassius could feel, choking his throat and balling his fists. Was his mother daft? How could he kneel to those he held responsible for so much pain and heartache? It was something Cassius could not bare to do. It would go against all he believed in. Resisting would be worth the risk, wouldn't it?
"I think that it is time to retire for the night," Cassius broke the silence, his voice as cold as the approaching winter. "We have much to attend to come morning. It would be best if we were well rested don't you think?" A strong hand found his mother's back, guiding her from his room. It was as far as he took her, but he kept walking. He had one last objective to attend to before he could find rest.
The streets of Fort Stryder had been taken by darkness. Most had closed up shop, and returned home for a night of rest. Some however, ran wild with the night. In the pub some were found, gulping ale until it put them to sleep. Others could be heard from great lengths away. Moaning erupting out the windows of the whore house. His destination.
With his heart pounding so hard he could feel it against his chest, Cassius pushed through the door of the brothel. He was only half surprised to find a man fucking a painted whore in the entry way. There were not many things Cassius did not expect from a place like this. Relief took him when women did not swarm him. They were far to busy to waste time greeting every man who walked through the door. Pushing the moans to the back of his mind, Cassius moved deeper into the building, towards the private backroom. It however, was the loudest room in the place. Not with moans and shrieks of pleasure, but with screams and harsh tones. It was only upon entry, Cassius could get a solid observation of what was taking place. A man had been dissatisfied with a woman's service and had come to get his payment back. He had a hard grasp around her arm, and she struggled against it but was too weak. The woman was Ingrid.
"Unhand her!" Cassisus' voice erupted as he threw himself further into the room. The distress on the young woman's features made him quick to anger. No one would ever treat her with such disrespect again.
"My lord-"
"Dare not speak, you are lucky if I let you walk from here with your cock in its place," the threat left his lips with ease, strong arms moving to encase the woman in his hold. "Give the bastard his coin, I have much more to offer you," he spoke to Xander who did not go against the word of his lord. With a quick exchange, it was soon the owner of the brother, the lord and the whore alone in the private room.
"Have you come to finish your business my lord?" Xanders assumed as her hands gestured the room. "I can offer my parlor at normal wages my Lord-"
"No, I have not come for such desires, but one stronger. I ask of you and your woman Ingrid to do me an honor. I must wed a common woman, my allegiances much be unclear going into this war. The moment I have set eyes on Ingrid I knew she was meant for greater things than this, and you are a man I have come to trust greatly as had Zachariah. I beg of you, let me take her hand and swear no one will know of her origins. I shall give you masses of gold if you wed her to me under the watch of the Old Gods in the forest tonight."
It was a strange feeling to wake up in the morning and not have the other side of the bed cold as ice. At once where crisp morning air rested, there was a silken body radiating her own warmth against that of the lord. His Lady. Lady Ingrid Gwhendel of Fort Stryder. With freshly fallen snow under their feet, they had been joined by the maester as his father was taking his travels south. He couldn't have been more relieved in that moment. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders with his marriage to Ingrid. Her apparent pleasure of joining him had made the even much greater. She had appeared just has happy as he was and had wasted no time consummating their marriage.
Sending a rough hand over her waist, he pulled her closer to protect her from the harsh morning cold. He knew they couldn't remain in bed for long as the House Bolton would soon be at their gates, but he wanted to savor this a little longer. "My lady," he hummed out to her, voice remaining groggy with sleepy. Chiseled features cuddled into long golden strands, taking in her sweet scent as he soon found her neck to kiss.
"M'lord?" Came a soft whisper from the lips of the woman who lay at his side. The way she snuggled closer to him, caused a smile to splay over lips. Sharing his bed was definitely something he could get used to. Soon, his bride was facing him, bright eyes looking up over tired features. "I have shared my bed with many men," she told him slowly, words near cracking in her throat, "but never has a man held me like you have.
His hand met her face now, not in a slap but a gentle caress. "The only bad you will be sharing is mine with me in it," he assured her, "you will know no pain, feel no sorry as my duty to you is to assure your safety and happiness. I will love you and I hope, with time we will find love together as my mother and father did before us-"
"Brother-" the voice of Jonas Gwhendel, third born son of Adilayde and Marcus had filled the room following the creak of the old door. There was a sense of alarm in his voice, causing Cassius to shoot into a sitting position. Blankets pooled at his hips, but his body, broad with strength was more than enough to shield the nakedness of Ingrid's perfect body. "Scouts have returned reporting Ramsey Bolton in their sights. It will not be long 'til he is waiting at our gates."
The news of House Bolton's pending arrival caused the young Lord to pull himself from bed. He showed no shame as he walked across the room ass naked to his clothes. The fact his lady acted in the same matter was amusing to him. Men seeing her naked was the norm, they had nothing to hide.
"Eyes on me brother," Cassius laughed out in a teasing manner, "that is my lady you are ogling," he continued playfully before sending Ingrid a playful wink. The stammering apologies made by his brother were sweeter than lemon cakes.
It didn't take long until he was fully dressed and standing before his brother. "Now, how about you and I go give Ramsey Bolton a proper welcome?" This proposition brought the boys to life. Sparks had become flickering flames ready to burn all in their path. Quick steps carried them through the corridors of their home, and son they were among his men, waiting in the courtyard. Taking to their horses, the two brothers lead the way to the gate as if it were a path not often taken. Upon arrival, men waited on the other side. Leading them the Bastard of Bolton.
Cassius did not fear Ramsey Bolton, but he realized that may be his most foolish mistake. The bastard may be ugly with his untamed dark strands, eyes like dirty ice and skin wind-burnt into the palest shade of pink. Looks however meant now - if they had, there was no doubt the chiseled Lord of Fort Stryder would win. What mattered here, was power. Power Cassius did not have.
"Lord Bolton, welcome to Fort Stryder. My father send his apologies that he could not welcome you himself, but he has business to attend to in the south," Cassius spoke out, remaining mounted on his horse. He would not get down to the man's level. Not yet. "Now, if you can follow me off, we can get to our own business."
Watching Ramsey, Cassius could see the look of dissatisfaction on his features. It almost made him smile, but he must remain firm and lordly as his father would have been. This was the type of situation Zachariah would have thrived in, but Cassius was not quite ready for. Politics were not the strong suit of the lord, a battlefield was where he belonged.
With the nod of his head, gates rattled and screamed their way upwards, granting Ramsey and his men entry. Cassius did not waist time waiting for him, heels dug into his horse's sides, a grunt leaving his lips, urging it to take off for the castle. Taking off with a gallop, Cassius lead the way, his brother not far behind him. Glancing back over his shoulder, the eldest brother spotted the thrill on Jonas' face. Soon, they were riding side by side.
"You've gone right pissed 'im off brother," Jonas laughed out before shaking his head of dark curls, "best hope he don't flay you next."
Cassius hoped her was joking. He was no stranger to the history of House Bolton. Their sigil, a flayed man, sprawled out and on display. They had been old tactics of torture for the house. Their signature. Rumor was, that the bastard indulged in similar traditions. The lord was going to give him the benefit of the doubt - and well, rather hoped that the whispered words of others were untrue. The last thing he needed was to meet his fate following his wedding night.
Waiting on the steps of their castle was the remainder of his family. Adilayde stood with the a twin on each side, and Ingrid had managed to find a place of her own along side Sofya. Dismounting his horse, Cassius moved directly to his lady, "you couldn't look more perfect standing here," he muttered in ear before looking down upon her. She had taken to Delilah's old gowns, abandoning the rags Xander had given her to wear. Now she looked like a proper lady. He gave her lips a quick kiss before turning around to find Rasmey at his feet. He couldn't help but notice that the beady eyes of the man light up at the sight of his family.
"My, my," the man hummed out, his feet scuffing against the dirt, "from what I recall your daughters had not taken on such Southern beauty, which can only mean one thing someone failed to send out a wedding invitation. How am I not surprised? This one does not quite know his place yet-"
"It was a private ceremony, you can understand that after recent events why someone would want to keep it as such," Cassius addressed, voice strong and firm, "this is my wife, Lady Ingrid. She hails from the Westerlands, blood of my uncle-" he stopped himself there. If he dug himself too deep into his lies with too much detail it would be too obvious that the story was untrue.
"I must offer my congratulations," Ramsey smiled, teeth baring from behind his lips. With slow steps, he sauntered up towards them, stopping when he was toe to toe with the new Lady of Fort Stryder. He was a short man when he was not upon his horse. It made Cassius smile too wide. How could such a little man carry such intimidation? That he did not understand. Cassius watched as Ramsey too Ingrid's hand, bringing it too his mouth for a gentle kiss.
"Such sweet, soft skin," he muttered and looked up at the family, "if she would be so kind to escort me inside?"
The look Ingrid gave Cassius was one that asked for permission. He could see in her eyes how uncomfortable the man made her. She too must have heard the rumors. Cassius however, was not going to further displease the bastard. "Why, of course," he told the pair, before swallowing hard. Eyes met his wife's, silently promising her that all would be well with a wimple glance. The walk to the hall was agonizing. It was apparent that Ramsey did not know what silence was and carried conversation with Ingrid throughout the halls. That was until they came to the entry way, and Cassius took a step in front of the group to stop them in their place.
"Now, it will be you and I from here Lord Bolton," Cassius told him, nodding back towards his mother for them to leave. If this went poorly, he did not need them facing any harm. "The women need no mind in our politics, the children too young," his eyes then fell on Jonas who had come forward to take Ingrid back. He was next in line if anything were to happen to Cassius. There was no way he was going to have him in the room. It would be to risky.
He was sure Ramsey could sense the distrust, but he gave no care. His father had trusted him to protect their family, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
In the hall there was a fire burning. Wood popped and crackled under the extreme heat. It set the room aglow with it's orange hues. At the head of the room, looking over many long tables, Cassius found the seat of the lord. It was from there he looked over Lord Ramsey who stood before him. This action seemed to displease the man greatly.
"You actions beg me to further call into question your loyalty Cassius-"
"Lord Cassius, I give you the respect of giving you, a bastard, your title. I ask you give me mine."
He then watched as the Bastard Bolton came to an equal level with the Lord of Fort Stryder. Standing taller than him, only when Cassius sat upon his seat. "I will give my respect to those who are in deservance of such-"
"Are we going to have a problem Lord Ramsey?"
"We have a problem," the words of the other were venomous now, "I had come to ask for your fealty as your family had devoted your banners to House Stark, but they are no more. You are walking on thin ice Lord Cassius, you have much to learn or your reign over your house will be short lived."
"Our loyalty was with house Stark as they were Warden of the North. We road along side them as Joffery Baratheon had slain Eddard Stark. Yet, House Bolton Ward the North now if I am not mistaken. This would mean, my loyalties now fall with you," he had hoped his logic could over power the strength of his actions. They had seemed to satisfy the man, and he should have predicted the command that had escaped the lips of Ramsey Bolton:
"Now, kneel."