Chapter Three: The Game is Built Upon Desire.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by George R. R. Martin, or his publishing company, or HBO.
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Four Months Later
"Lord Stark," Shiera Seastar smiled at his father, "There are several matters which require your attention." Sashaying forth she seemed entirely oblivious to Robb's momentarily lustful gaze. The three of them, not including Maester Luwin, were in the Lord's solar. For what seemed the thousandth time he had visited to beg his father for a real sword, but to little avail. Accordingly, the woman's arrival spared him the humiliation of a severe tongue-lashing. She set a large pile of papers before him, though the Lord of Winterfell was too firm in his duties to ever blanche at such a sight. Robb recognized that this was his time to escape.
"Stay, Robb," Eddard Stark nodded sternly at his son, "Lady Seastar and I have much to discuss regarding our shared plans for the North. As my heir it is important that you be well-versed in them." He was not terribly surprised, as he sat back down with a weary glance at the pile of documents. Sansa had been proving herself to be heavily instrumental in Lady Shiera's plot for Northern development. The future Lord Paramount of the North couldn't have expected any less involvement than his eldest sister. A book of ledgers was removed from underneath the Great Bastard's arm prior to being handed gently to Maester Luwin. "Please, take a seat, Shiera," Ned Stark's weathered face twisted with a knowing smile. This would be a long meeting, like always.
Always out to impress the most unattainable beauty in Westeros, Robb stood swiftly to pull the chair back. A beautiful smile crossed her face when she thanked him. So blinding that his heart almost stopped. "The Rogares have followed through with their part of the contract. Our loan has arrived under heavy guard at White Harbor along with, what I hear, is a great host of artisans." She hardly even blinked at this stream of facts, "However, the Stoneborn have finally been convinced by myself to journey to winterfell. All three of the Skaggosson Houses are willing to negotiate with Winterfell."
"A feast will need to be prepared. With so many guests visiting," He sighed, "I should war-."
"I have already taken the liberty of informing Lady Stark. Sansa and her court are busy assisting your Lady wife with the preparations as we speak." She assuaged all of his concerns with abrupt immediacy. Many wondered why Robb's father had done something so foolish as keeping a 'sorcerous, Targaryen Princess' around. Yet if they could have witnessed that moment they would have realized easily enough. She was beyond efficient with her incredible knack for economics, and Robb could tell that his father also thought of her as some sort of surrogate daughter. Shiera Seastar was well on her way in proving worth the ire of Robert Baratheon. "I must also tell you that I have taken the initiative to invite the Lord Commander. Given that so many guests are arriving already it would be smartest to get our discussions out of the way."
Such presumptuousness would have been the downfall of any other advisor though Robb knew his father never disapproved of the woman's clever plots. "Well enough, I suppose," Ned Stark nodded at her, "There is much that you and I must discuss with Jeor Mormont."
"Lord Manderly has made steady progress in the construction of his roads. The Reeds are assisting him to the west, while he has taken initiative to build a road to Ramsgate," She paused to let him glance over the letters. "Lady Mormont has also been building to the best of her ability, but Bear Island will doubtlessly require financial assistance. The Dustins and Ryswells, however, have unfortunately proven more difficult to convince." That was quite unsettling for Robb to hear. He wondered just how much those two, admittedly powerful, Houses must have hated House Starks to pass up such an opportunity. The Dustins were fools to ignore a chance to disperse their sizable agricultural industry through Westeros, and the Ryswells idiots to not trade their horses in bulk at White Harbor.
"We need their participation if we are to ever dream of paying back this loan to the Rogares," Maester Luwin cautioned them all while continuing to peruse the ledger.
"Aye," His father nodded with a faint glimmer of displeasure in those grey eyes, "The Ryswells and Dustins know that as well. They will ask for all the timber in the Wolfswood before giving us anything we need." They all sat in silence for a moment until the Lord of House Stark spoke again. "After we have dealt with our approaching guests, you will travel south to the Rills before going to Barrowton, Lady Shiera. Robb shall accompany you on this journey." He already felt himself blanche at the notion of being trapped alone with the Great Bastard. Even in that particular moment Robb could hardly hide the dull throbbing of his cock.
"Of course, it is important for Lord Robb to witness the handling of those particular Lords," She nodded her affirmation. Here a tentative look crossed her lovely face. "As you should be able to see, from that letter there, Drazenko Rogare expects Lady Sansa to greet him in the south." A stony silence greeted her attempts to bring up this course of discussion. Robb's father still refused to acknowledge that Sansa was becoming a masterful politician. She had begun to change practically overnight from an idealistic child to a young woman. That sort of change was hard for a father to accept. "It would be best to bring both Arya and Sansa along with Robb and I southwest. Then we could meet with their grandfather, Hand uncle, and the Rogares at Riverrun."
"Arya will be staying here," He corrected firmly, "I have already discussed this same matter with Lady Stark. She is too young, and still much too free-spirited for such a matter."
"Father," Robb surprised himself by speaking out, "Arya at least deserves to meet her grandfather and uncle. She has made such massive progress in her courtesy. All she does anymore is practice her dancing, and stitching." He liked to think he interfered due to a familial loyalty to Arya, yet Robb knew that it was a hardly acknowledged yearning to impress Lady Seastar.
"He is correct, Lord Stark," The Targaryen bastard interjected rapidly. It was now safe for her to argue against the Lord of Winterfell with his own heir firmly on her side. "Arya will be a capable young Lady very soon enough. I have even begun to consider having her begin to organize a court of her own. Many Nobles in the Riverlands would prove quite willing to participate, given her Tully blood, and such companions would only reinforce my teachings."
They were firmly scrutinized for a brief moment. "Do you swear, Robb," He glanced piercingly upon his son, "That if I agree to this you will keep Arya safe. Bearing in mind just how willful that girl can be."
"I do father," He nodded at him from across the desk, "I swear it on my honor as a Stark."
A reluctant nod followed as Ned regarded his economic advisor once more. "Hopefully you take care for your own safety as well, Lady Seastar. Any journey you make out of the North will be a widely acknowledged one. Even Jon Arryn might not be able to protect you from the King's wrath so far south of the Neck."
Neither of them knew that Lady Shiera did not fear Robert Baratheon though. No, she feared those puppet masters who controlled him.
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"-never fails to impress me, Lady Cerwyn," Theon Greyjoy flirted unashamedly. Alongside him Jonelle Cerwyn giggled loudly at his inappropriate advances. From beside Sansa, Arya rolled her grey eyes at the repugnant display. Since the eldest Stark daughter returned with a court consisting of Wylla Manderly and Andarra, her father's ward had tried his worst to besmirch them. Now apart from Jeyne Poole he scandalously eyed Lady Wylla and, the more recently included, Jonelle Cerwyn. The homely, older Noblewoman could hardly have been blamed for being so receptive to such advances however. Sansa suspected the thirty year old woman was terrified of dying a virgin let alone dying unwed.
"Theon," Sansa snapped with a slight hint of impatience, "Lady Jonelle is meant to be overseeing the cleaning of the silver. Your antics better suit Winter Town than distracting us." Lady Cerwyn startled at having been caught flirting with her younger suitor prior to watching the servants more closely. With a sullen glare the Ironborn man marched away from them all.
"Good luck marrying that one off if Theon diddles with her," Arya whispered with no small amount of vulgarity. Sansa wished to scold her sister for speaking in such a crude way, but it was certainly the truth. The auburn-haired beauty had decided to win much favour from Lord Cerwyn by being the one to finally marry off his plump daughter. Unfortunately, it seemed she bit off more than could be chewed. If Lady Jonelle were to lose her maidenhead improperly she would be absolutely undesirable to any suitors. Sighing at the stress caused by her Ladies-in-Waiting, Sansa looked back down at the ledgers she had been furiously reviewing prior to Theon's dramatics.
Arya simply continued to lead her own squadron of servants in arranging centerpieces as though nothing had happened. "You have seemed out of sorts ever since you got back from White Harbor," Her younger sister remarked boldly.
"It is just the stress of everything here," Sansa lied easily, "I have a court to look after now. Shiera has been relying on my help more than eve-." With a sudden smack Arya stunned her sister into silence by grabbing her wrist, so swiftly that the Lysene bracelet was jerked into sight.
Two impenetrably gray eyes glared upwards at her as though demanding to be told the truth. "More gifts from the Manderlys? Or could it be from that handsome Rogare you mumble about in your sleep?" That caused the eldest daughter of House Stark to blush quite ferociously. More often than not she would stay up late with Arya to help her improve what had previously been abysmal needlework. Sometimes they even ended up asleep next to one another, as close as two sisters could possibly be. "'Drazenko'," Arya went on to mimic her in an overly saccharine, whiny tone, "'I think I might be in love with you'. Blegh."
"One day you will fancy a gallant knight, or dashing Lord. Much to the surprise of all of Winterfell," Sansa sniped back easily, "And in that instance I will not hold back any snide taunting. Think carefully little sister."
"I don't want that sort of thing," Arya finally responded, knuckles growing painfully white as she sorted flower petals.
Sansa reached out to touch her sister this time, squeezing reassuringly on the girl's shoulder. "You will find a man who respects you, sister. Who cares not for your…" Those blue eyes glanced nervously about before she whispered, "Lessons." Subconsciously disapproving, despite trying her best to understand it, the auburn-haired Lady recalled her little sister's secret sword fighting lessons. That had been the only way Shiera managed to pierce Arya's deeply held aversion to doing anything Ladylike. "It might not seem as such now," Sansa smiled confidently, "But everyone says how much you are like Aunt Lyanna. Men will throw themselves at your feet one day."
"That they will," Shiera Seastar cut across their quiet conversation without preemptively announcing her arrival, "But not if you two gain a reputation for idle chatter." The pair turned to eagerly ask how the woman's conversations had gone with the Lord of Winterfell. She held a patient hand aloft, "Your Lord father gave his consent for Arya to travel with us to Riverrun." Any excitement from that announcement did not last long. "This will be all business, however," Shiera warned them sternly, "You two are going to forge connections. Any word you speak, or action taken shall reflect not only upon House Stark, but the Tullys and Arryns as well."
"I don't want to represent my family. I thought that was Sansa's jo-." Arya was cut off soundly by their governess.
"Do not, Arya, not 'don't,'" Shiera corrected firmly without any snideness. "You and your sister are two of the most powerful women in Westeros. In fact, after the two of you have married you will be the most powerful women in Westeros. It is not just Sansa's responsibility to delegate our southern affairs." Those mismatched eyes practically peered into Arya's soul, "Nonetheless, I am certain you will have more fun playing the game than you are anticipating."
What followed was a swift dismissal of the girls from assisting their Lady mother with preparations. "You two must go and finish turning those silks from the Manderlys into your southern wardrobes. I cannot have my charges marching about the Riverlands wearing bundles of woolen fabric."
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One Week Later
Robb had never seen Winterfell so full in his entire life. The Stark heir could remember harvest feasts, and having all the Northern Lords visit to renew their oaths of fealty. Yet this was unprecedented for a child of summer. First had come the contingent of artisans from all across Lyseni assets in Essos. The majority were former slaves, the minority had been indebted to the Rogare Bank. All of them had scurried to the North after having been firmly reminded that slavery was outlawed in Westeros. Alongside these many immigrants were the Manderly forces used to transport the loan which filled three armoured carts with gold. Wylis Manderly had arrived unannounced with this entourage so that he could visit with his daughter Wylla.
Shortly after the southern visitors was Lord Commander Jeor Mormont with his small guard of sworn brothers from the north. Accompanying them had been a group of 'diggers' who were residents of Mole's Town, or the furthest settlement in the North. Robb still did not know quite why Shiera had requested their presence. What he could recognize was that his mother never would have been able to prepare a proper feast. Alongside the Night's Watch contingent, the Umbers had decided to march south as well which prompted the more competitive Mountain Clans to send delegates in response. "Holy shit," Theon muttered prompting Robb to elbow him in the ribs. They both were standing on a balcony in Winterfell with Sansa's handmaidens. Each of the girl's had taken a liking to following him and Theon around. Flirting profusely the whole while.
"Now I know why Lady Seastar spruced Winterfell up so much," Ned Stark's heir acknowledged tiredly. In the prior year the Great Bastard had pressured his parents to order all manner of renovations. The revolting First Keep was deratted and thoroughly cleaned by many reluctant serving maids. What had once been the Broken Tower was, again, the largest watchtower in Winterfell. Even Winterfell itself seemed to be sparkling with renewed vigor. Fortunately all of that hard work would repay them tenfold in yielding several places where the uninvited guests could rest. At that he stared over their last guest's large presence beyond Winterfell's walls.
The Skaggosoons, or Stoneborn as they called themselves, had brought a company of five-hundred men with them. "Why would they presume to bring such a large force of men along? That hardly signifies noble intentions," Lady Jonelle sniffed righteously. Though she annoyed him immensely Robb was inclined to agree with the woman. Of course, he could recognize what the three, fearsome Lords from Skagos were trying to do. They anticipated that despite everything Shiera promised them a new rebellion would break out. This contingent of savage-looking soldiers would no doubt be set against Winterfell's walls if negotiations went afoul.
"We can only hope we do not find out," Robb nodded to Theon, "Though I wonder how an Ironborn would fare against the Stoneborn?" Any smart response coming from Theon's mouth was interrupted as the Ladies in their presence were summoned away. They both turned to look out beyond the battlements before another arrival interrupted their conversation once more.
"Lord Stark," His sister's Lyseni handmaiden entered, "Lady Seastar has asked that you meet her in front of her chambers. She says you are to be her escort." Envy flashed plainly across Theon's face at that. Both of the young men were bitter rivals for Shiera Seastar's sparing attentions. "There is also a… Private matter her ladyship asked me to discuss with Lord Greyjoy," Anadarra spoke with the soft hesitance of a skilled courtesan. While neither of the heirs were experienced enough to recognize her ploy, only one fell for it. Theon's naturally lecherous expression widened in the Valyrian-featured woman's direction. Robb, however, fled the chambers to search out his father's economic advisor.
Robb allowed himself for a foolish moment to relish the many unlikely dreams that haunted him every night. Not just being pulled into Shiera's chambers for the most carnal of acts he could only imagine, but standing with her beneath a weirwood. The snow falling, those mismatched eyes accentuated by a necklace of emeralds and sapphires, all of the Northern Lords peering enviously at Robb's Targaryen Princess. Those dreams were so unexplainably vivid that he often wondered in the mornings if they were not, in fact, visions. Inevitably he would crush his own hopes by remembering Old Nan's nonsense stories of greendreams. Feet coming to a stop he knocked with a curious expression upon the half-open door of Shiera Seastar's chambers.
"Come in, Lord Stark," Her melodic voice drifted in a magical way from the confines of her chamber. Gulping violently at the inappropriateness of this encounter he glanced around prior to slipping inside. Only a few candles lit the mostly dark chambers, and Shiera Seastar was all the lovelier for it. She stood with elegantly folded arms before her grand window which displayed each of Winterfell's many guests. "The Stoneborn are prideful. Jeor Mormont is a greedy fool who is impervious to the notion of compromise. House Umber has travelled south from Last Hearth to protest our sudden interests in Skagos." Here, the beauty turned to face him fully, "My question is simple, Robb Stark. How would you handle them all? Must I be your nursemaid at the Rills and Barrowton, or do you yet have hind legs of your own to stand upon?"
He could not look away from her beauty while his mind roiled fearsomely in the presence of her intelligence. "I-," Robb stumbled nervously, "I would offer each of them something they want?"
"I wanted an answer, Lord Stark," Shiera began to step in a calculated manner towards him, "But you gave me a question instead. Tell me what our guests want." She was stunning in that gown of white-lace, with her simple bracelets of ivory. He wanted nothing more than to undress the voluptuous beauty.
"The Umbers greatly dislike the wildlings," The heir of Winterfell supplied nervously, "They most likely wish for us to halt our deals with the Skagossons."
She at least waited until he had answered to correct him. Stepping even closer, "Wrong. Your father's Northernmost vassals desire an opportunity to dominate the wool market in the North. They will be offered all of our Lyseni fabric masters, as well as several free trading galleys in exchange for forging fresh ties with the Skaggossons." Shiera Seastar stood less than a foot away from him now. Her bosom heaved with each breath forcing Robb to will away his powerful erection. "Half of the game is understanding what your foes and friends alike desire most. Give it to them, or withhold it. Either option achieves the same outcome."
"What do you want?" He asked while peering deeply into those intriguing eyes. A hand reached up to caress his cheek tenderly in response. Robb Stark could do nothing as his heart raced and his mind was slammed into a firm wall.
"My motivations are not as unique as most might imagine. Power, wealth, sex," She paused thoughtfully, "Vengeance. I want it all. But no Umber, or Manderly can simply give me what I desire. That is my first lesson for you, young Stark pup. If something is worth hungering for then you must find a way to attain it yourself." That hand, almost tauntingly, drifted down his cheek, grazed his neck, and sept across his chest to his elbow. "We mustn't be late, my Lord," The Great Bastard smiled, as though she knew his every thought, "Your mother would be most displeased."
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Theon knew he would miss the feast, but he did not care in the slightest. Another gasp exploded from his throat as the lovely Lysene courtesan nipped his neck in all the right ways. Her lusty ministrations culminated in the agressive ripping of the simple gown which covered that sumptuous body. Silver hair, a clean-shaven cunt, and pink nipples which stood out sharply against the handmaidens silver hair. There was no escaping now unless the beautiful Valyrian wished to be fucked by the first guard that saw such sensationally large tits.
Cock throbbing the young man rushed to undress while she dealt with pouring their cups of wine. "Did your mistress wish to test my prowess," He licked his lips crudely with a throaty voice, "You can surely report back to her that us Ironborn do indeed have impressive members." At that he allowed his tunic to fall revealing, what was indeed, a very large penis.
"No, master Greyjoy," The former courtesan smiled confidently, so unlike the broken whores of Winter Town. She held the lager mug to him, breasts jiggling the whole while. He was salivating at the submissive title the clearly arrogant woman shot at him. "I was renowned for my ability to make men cum with a single breath," He tossed the mug back prior to dropping it carelessly on the floor of his chambers. "Not one of them were able to deflower me. I am no slave any longer in the North," That accent was so watery and moist, so fuckable Theon decided. She cupped both hands around his muscular back while the Greyjoy heir reached down quickly to squeeze her ample bottom. "I first considered giving my flower to Lord Robb," Andarra, he remembered her name suddenly, admitted.
"Of course," Theon muttered enviously.
"But he is much too sheltered for my tastes. I need a man who can fuck me until my voice is broken," Lilac eyes glittered with mirth, "To show me why those whores in the brothel were always squealing. So I considered giving my flower to a strong butcher, or stable boy. Until I caught sight of you." Pleasure soared through Theon's chest at that revelation which was odd given that he never really cared about what his conquests thought of him. They fell into more kissing. Tongues twisting ardently with the strange passion of their sudden encounter. Her skilled fingers worked his thick cock until he thought it might explode in barely containable rivulets of thick seed.
Theon was only too quick to push her backwards towards his bed of furs and stray silks. Hands moving down south only long enough to make sure she was at least slightly wet. "No," A firm hand pressed against his lean chest with surprising amounts of strength, "You will show me as much dedication as I would you, Theon Greyjoy. Or I can gift Jory Cassel with my flower." He stared with shock until she wrapped her hands gently behind his head, guiding powerfully lower until the Ironborn was lapping dutifully at Andarra's silky center. Thighs tightening she pressed him deeper down as Theon grew increasingly more used to showing such a mutual sexual favour. "Enough."
The muscular lad was pulled upwards by his locks of black so that they could lock lips once more. He shivered gleefully at the filthiness of Sansa Stark's handmaiden tasting her own juices off his swollen lips. "Go slowly," Andarra crooned in his ear, Theon moved further inwards prior to pressing his cock's girthy head against her slickened opening. Tauntingly so the young man proceeded as she asked; Slowly. Her tight cunt wrapped about his cock like a vice. In an uncharacteristic moment of generosity he allowed the Valyrian beauty a moment to adjust. When Andarra's discomforted hisses gave way to fulfilled sighes he started to rut forth again.
Their bodies growing slickened with sweat rather quickly. For the first time in a long while Theon did not turn around his sexual partner to finish in privacy. Violet gazed deeply into his dark eyes as thick spurts of seed were emptied into the handmaiden's belly.
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Shiera paused her flicking of worn pages when the door creaked open. "Did he drink the contents of that bottle, Andarra?" She stood to stare expectantly at the Lyseni courtesan.
"Yes, my Lady," The handmaiden stood as though her entire perspective of the world had changed. Shiera understood well enough how that felt, how strange it was to transition from sucking cocks to fucking them. "He finished inside of me too," Her newest servant showed no embarrassment at speaking of such things. Living in a brothel tended to strip even the most devout of their shyness.
"Excellent," A grim twist of the lip was all that Andarra received as a reward, "You will continue to ensnare Theon Greyjoy as planned." The Great Bastard slipped closer to her dishevelled visitor. A small, green bottle was produced from the pocket of her sleeping robes, "This must be slipped into his breakfast. You will fuck him again immediately after." A final vial, clear blue, was lifted into the dim light prior to being pressed into Andarra's remaining hand.
"What is this, my Lady?" She asked worriedly in response.
"You will meet a man with a crescent scar on his cheek in the Smoking Log after Theon Greyjoy has been satisfied." Mismatched eyes glittered venomously, "Hand him this vial. Then whisper the name, 'Jojen Reed,' in his left ear. Report back here after my meetings have finished." A little nod of understanding was all Shiera Seastar received in response before the newly deflowered maiden fled the chambers. Feet tapping about she enjoyed the comforts of being alone again. Fingers stroking absently over the books filled with information on Black Magic. Ignoring the loud noises produced outside by Winterfell's many drunk guests she waved her elegant fingers suddenly. A pestle of pungent liquid sparked with flame momentarily before fading into a turquoise poultice.
In a swift movement Shiera jerked the thick robes from her bare body. Chanting in a foreign language she began to apply the substance to large swathes of creamy flesh. Tossing a head of wild, silver tangles back the woman hissed one name, "Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell."
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Several walls and floors away Robb Stark moaned loudly in his half-drunken sleep.
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Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter, if not then oh well, the next one will be much more political. I also skipped over the feast so that it could actually be finished this century.