Yara Greyjoy hurt, the deep ache of bruising suffusing her entire being. Also a horrible stiffness from the endless days of captivity. She'd long since lost track of hours, days, and weeks. There'd been no light since she'd been dragged through the streets of King's Landing. She licked at the dried scab along her lip, eyes shifting in the dark for where she knew the door was. In the hall, she could hear the footsteps of the guards.
She amused herself with considering insults she might use if they were here to feed her. Maybe she'd get a chance to bite one of them? It was a good day when she got to bite one. Her eyes squinted as the thick oak door opened, and the dim light from a torch illuminated her bleak cell. It burned her eyes, but she refused to flinch from it.
Baring her teeth she prepared to snarl at the guards only to pause. Under the fucking Lannister colors was Theon's miserable, cowardly face. She stayed still as he stiffly walked towards her, pulling a key out, he knelt behind her, unshackling her wrists from where they'd been locked behind her.
Her body ached as she pulled her arms forward. Rubbing at her raw wrists she climbed to her feet. She turned to face Theon. He was looking at her, awaiting her judgment for leaving her behind. He was a coward. He'd left her to die. But he'd come back. She reared back and headbutted him square in the face as hard as she could.
Theon hit the ground. But didn't fight back, just blinking away the pain and looking up at her, waiting to see what she'd say.
Yara held out her hand. Theon took it, and she pulled him to his feet. She gave him a short nod before stepping towards the door only to be blocked by the man who'd come in with Theon.
"Sorry, but you can't go out looking like that." He said in a shockingly northern accent.
She stared at him. "And who's going to stop me?"
"The first guard we didn't poison or stuff in a cell after stabbing will take one look at ya and call the whole army down on our heads." He glared at her daring her to disagree.
Yara could see sense. "Then what's the plan?"
Yara hissed as she was dragged, each man had a hold under one shoulder, her boots dragging along the dungeon stones as they brought her up and past the guards. Dragged her right by the Lannister soldiers without so much as a sideways glance.
Her hair that'd had awful black oil rubbed into it certainly was black though. And her skin thanks to a liberal slathering of a brownish mixture was nearly Dornish. The fact the Northern idiot, name of Joran apparently, had insisted she bind her breasts and that she pull on scratchy, stinky peasant clothes meant not a single person saw her and thought Yara Greyjoy. The Northern kid was not who she'd have expected to come up with a charade like this. Hells, she had half a mind to ask him to join her crew as they walked straight through the gates and sent her tumbling into the street.
Theon's voice was scathing if slightly stilted as he hollered after her. "And don't be EVEN THINKING of insulting the Queen's men again!"
Yara climbed to her feet a free woman, or perhaps a free Dornishman as the case may be. Rubbing at her wrists she started walking toward the street of steel. Her eyes were drawn to the gallows, bodies not long dead swinging from nooses. There was a cart of bloated dead, their necks wrung from their time at the end of a rope. And then dozens of small folk in the stocks. Every stock was full, and those in them were looking down.
Her eyes took in the people as she walked. They were beaten down and skittish. Not a one looked her in the eye. And all of them near shrank at the presence of any man in Lannister reds. The air smelt of shit, misery, and death. So shit mostly.
Her trudging walk to steel street was grim. Some street corners had extra stocks installed, men and women locked in them, their backs bloody. Yara's eyes were dark and hard as she realized what that meant her Uncle and the Lion Bitch were doing. Ruling by fear then, reign of terror. Not that she particularly cared for the lot of peasants. But it would make killing her Uncle for this even sweeter.
She spotted the giant black-haired and blue-eyed smith leaning against a wall one shop down from the smithy with the broken sign. Right where she'd been told to find him. She stopped in front of him. "Gendry?"
"Aye, come on then." He waved at her to fall into step as he began to lumber down the street.
Yara raised a brow but did as instructed. This was certainly a strange rescue. Once they reached the house they'd commandeered she was going to have some questions. A lot of questions. Like where the fuck her surviving ships were, and why her escape so far had involved a local Smith, a Northerner, and not an Ironborn to be seen.
/
Sansa touched the worn cuff of Daisy's sleeve, where Daisy's arm laid above the warm furs in the early morning light. She was going to need to have some new shirts, likely two or three outer tunics made for her. Daisy really was hard on her clothing. Especially on the sleeve cuffs, probably because she had a habit of constantly fiddling with them. It was such a human habit, it'd always rather charmed Sansa to see those so very human traits in the woman. Her gaze turned from the cuff to Daisy's still lightly sleeping face.
It was…it was funny. She'd always thought Daisy was so very human despite being a god. There were quiet things that made it impossible to mistake Daisy for a human. Even now as she slept, Daisy didn't snore, not really. The noise she made was a barely audible hum. More of a purr than anything else. Sansa knew if she placed the flat of her hand near Daisy's chest she'd feel the soft vibrations she radiated sometimes. When she paid attention there were dozens of tiny things like that. Tiny things that hardly mattered, but never allowed her to quite forget what Daisy was.
But for all that, Sansa was sure she'd missed the mark utterly on how human Daisy was. Learning her true age had been a shock, Daisy had certainly been clearly surprised at Sansa's. And for those few awful seconds, she'd thought Daisy might pull away after hearing her age. But she hadn't. A few scant minutes and Daisy was as warm and so very there as always. It was Sansa herself who was left adjusting her view of things. Four and twenty. It was…so terribly young in comparison to what she'd thought. And perhaps it made her awful, but it changed things.
Daisy being that young meant…it meant a lot of things. It certainly meant the woman was probably one of the most reckless idiots Sansa had ever met. A bored being of incomparable age could do as Daisy had done without it being more than a whim. But four and twenty? Sansa rather despaired of meeting a good and kind person who actually possessed self-preservation instincts at this point. So much of Daisy seemed to fit into place.
Her eyes traced over the familiar features as she thought. Her heart had not changed, Sansa doubted it could be. But it changed what Daisy's actions had meant, it changed how truly deeply she cared. The investment if she was essentially mortal in every way save mortality was so much higher. It made her time and protection not a passing fancy because they had caught her interest and she had become fond of them. Instead, it meant she cared, deeply. Sansa blinked, and let her thoughts fade as she realized Daisy was waking.
Daisy's nose scrunched as she shifted, her lips turning up, her voice rough from sleep. "Hello to you too." Yawning, she stretched, eyes opening groggily. "Just gonna stare?"
"Perhaps." Sansa huffed, a fond smile on her lips.
Daisy squinted at the barely there early light of dawn at the window. "Why are we awake this early?"
"I…" Sansa didn't know how to vocalize her thoughts on how Daisy's youth changed the tenor of her actions. Nor how it could change how certain members of the court perceived her.
Daisy pushed up on her elbows, her amusement fading to something more concerned as she came fully awake. "What's wrong?"
"What was Lincoln like?" Sansa asked, it wasn't what she'd intended to say, but she found she was glad she'd asked it.
The breath caught in Daisy's throat. Her brown eyes stayed focused on Sansa's face for a long moment before she breathed out. The last dregs of sleep faded fast, even for Daisy who went from asleep to fully awake with speed. Daisy sat up fully, her face was…conflicted. "What do you want to know about him, really?"
"He's important to you, and I think I've misjudged what that means." Sansa did not mean to press on something that would hurt Daisy however. "If you do not wish to speak of it we can forget I asked."
Daisy held her eye for a long time, before giving a slight nod. "Ok."
Sansa reached out laying her hand over Daisy's. Any words she might say to that stuck in her throat, so she merely stayed quiet and listened, watching Daisy's face.
"It's…" Daisy leaned back slightly, looking towards the wall, though whatever she was seeing wasn't there. "He was tall. Short blonde hair." She touched her head indicating just how short. "Didn't have a beard, just this kinda adorable scruff." Her fingers brushed her chin briefly, and the weight of what he'd meant to her painted across her face. "He had these soulful green eyes. He'd just look at you and you felt seen. All he wanted was to heal people, to help them. He saw the beauty in things, in our gifts."
Sansa listened quietly, she could hear the depth of loss in Daisy. "He sounds remarkable."
"He was." Daisy looked at her, a bittersweet smile on her face. "We never had enough time." She cleared her throat. "I knew him less than a year, and we wasted so much time, and then Hive…"
Her hand covering Daisy's tightened. "I am truly sorry."
"Why now?" Daisy looked at her, her attention felt like a brand. "You've never asked before."
Sansa resisted the instinct to pull back. "You're four and twenty."
"This is about my age?" Daisy's head tilted slightly, a faint air of disbelief to her, the sorrow fading.
She focused on the weight of Daisy's hand in her own, the warmth of it was comforting. "I thought you were much older." Sansa gave Daisy a look to prevent her from interrupting. "It's not a bad thing that I was wrong. It changes very little. Though you are going to have to further impress your divinity upon certain idiots and should expect the political factions at court to attempt to include you in their vying for power more actively. But it changes…it changes what it means that you are here, in my bed."
"So you asked about Lincoln?" Daisy said slowly.
Sansa shook her head. "I asked about him because I realized I'd never asked you about any of your lovers. And I should have."
"And my age means you should have?" Daisy looked blatantly confused.
She sighed. "I was being stupid, I'd thought it not my place to do so."
"Not your place?" Daisy's face scrunched slightly. "I know I don't talk about him, or well, Robbie's the only person who matters that isn't wrapped up in a ton of baggage…or well, he is, but not in a way that he caused. But that doesn't mean you can't ask?"
Which, Sansa had so many questions about Robbie from the things Crann had reported back about Fitz and Daisy's conversations. Apparently, the mention of Robbie made Fitz intolerable for hours. Likely the only reason Crann mentioned it in his notes on Fitz's work. Not insignificant portions of his notes had sarcastic commentary. It'd been getting worse the longer he knew the man. But that wasn't the matter at hand. "If you were a thousand years old, how many lovers would you have had?"
"Wait…" Daisy pulled back slightly, a sudden light in her eyes. "You thought what? That you were just some fling that doesn't matter?"
Sansa couldn't help the way she rolled her eyes. "Not like that. I know you care, I've not doubted that for a long time now, long before we were what we are now. That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then?" Daisy asked, a funny crinkle between her brows.
She sighed, how to put it. "Genuine care does not mean that in fifty, a hundred years I'd be more than a fond memory to you. After a thousand years, no matter how true, what claim of any significance would I have right to? And after a thousand years what weight would I hold? I do not mean that as a criticism. But we are nearly of age. That…means I was mistaken."
"You're ridiculous." Daisy reached up cupping the side of Sansa's face. "I care a lot, you goob."
Sansa let her eyes close. "I know." She reached up, her hand covering Daisy's where it still lay on her cheek. Breathing out she gave herself a few precious seconds before meeting Daisy's gaze again. "And I know I am poor at demonstrating or speaking it, but you mean a great deal to me. More than is wise or logical or I knew I could feel for anyone outside of my family."
Daisy's eyes widened, her mouth opening ever so slightly, and then she was leaning forward and kissing Sansa as she bore her back down to the bed.
As Sansa's back hit the soft mattress and blankets beneath her she didn't feel a flicker of unease. She knew Daisy would never hurt her, would never trap her, that if she wished she could roll them over and Daisy would permit it. And because of that she just reached for the bottom hem of Daisy's shirt so she could yank it up and out of the way, the sooner to pull Daisy's comforting weight back against her.
/
Daisy felt like she was on fire, her entire body hummed with it as she pressed Sansa into the mattress. She didn't care that they probably should be getting ready for the day soon, or that people were expecting them. None of that mattered. All that mattered was Sansa, beneath her, alive and real and wonderful.
She scraped her teeth against Sansa's neck. Nothing could be close enough. She'd always avoided leaving hickies or marks. Sansa's image was too important. But fuck it, fuck anyone outside of them and their relentless opinions on everything. As she sucked almost harshly at Sansa's neck, she felt smug at the way Sansa bucked up and into her.
A faint whine hitched in the back of her throat as she had to pull back to let Sansa yank her shirt up and over her head.
Daisy wanted to rip Sansa's nightgown off of her, but that was unacceptable. Instead, she kissed her firmly but forced herself to keep it nearly chaste as she reverently began to pull the offending garment up.
Because Daisy had heard what Sansa had said, and it ached and burned and she couldn't have put her thoughts into words, they felt trapped in her throat. Instead, she painted her words across Sansa with her mouth and hands. The singing of their vibrations was consuming, as Daisy kissed and mouthed her way from Sansa's chest, up her neck, and back to her mouth while blindly tossing the nightgown aside.
The soft sounds and heavy breathing from Sansa were the only sounds that mattered. Daisy's hand trailed down Sansa's side in more of a caress than anything. She pressed her forehead against Sansa's, her breath coming in short pants. Sansa's hand curled at the base of her neck, tangling in the short hair there holding her still, half burning and half grounding her all at the same time.
Daisy felt some of the frantic energy fading as she just stayed pressed against her. It felt right and important. She didn't know why she felt a burning that might be tears she refused to shed. Because Sansa never thought the worst of her, never asked that she defend herself, only that she explain. It hurt. Hearing Sansa's attempt at explaining what Daisy meant to her. Hurt like salt in a wound and Daisy didn't care, no matter how painful it was infinitely more precious.
She breathed in slowly, as she settled into the warmth and solid weight of the woman beneath her. Nudging Sansa's nose with her own she spoke quietly. "Are you good?" Her hand squeezed at Sansa's hip as she spoke.
"Daisy." Sansa's voice was slightly breathless, but there was a faint hint of a laugh there as well as Sansa pressed her lips to the corner of her mouth. "Are you alright?"
She nodded against Sansa, her eyes closed as she cupped one of Sansa's breasts with her free hand. "So good." She murmured as her hand on Sansa's hip trailed over to do something far more useful.
Daisy tried to stay humble and failed, as Sansa made a sharp inhale. Being able to control vibrations had perks, perks she had the control now to make the most of.
Kissing her way down to Sansa's chest she couldn't help the smug grin on her lips as Sansa's head stretched back, her eyes snapping closed as she bit at her lower lip to bite back the noises trying to escape her lips. Which challenge very much accepted. She sucked a nipple into her mouth.
Losing herself in the press, and the warmth and feel of it was intoxicating. If she could have frozen time, leaving them like this forever a part of her would do it in a heartbeat.
Reaching down with her free hand she lifted Sansa's leg from beneath the knee, opening her up more, as she hooked her fingers just right.
Daisy caught the cry Sansa let out with her mouth. She pulled her mouth back watching Sansa's face as her nails dug into her shoulder, one hand clenched in the pillow her red hair was spilling across. And then, there, Sansa's eyes opened and Daisy caught her gaze. She could have drowned in the normally blue eyes that were so blown they were near black. "Look at me, I've got you."
She kept up the stream of murmured words of support as she carried her up and caught her as she crested, back arching as she came with a sharp cry.
Daisy gently eased her through it, nuzzling against her cheek. Something in her chest settled with warm contentment as she languidly kissed Sansa, enjoying the hum of the vibrations she was never not aware of anymore. She propped herself up slightly, looking down at Sansa, flushed and gorgeous, and felt a burst of pride. And well, why stop at one?
Daisy was positively radiating smugness. She knew it and didn't give a fuck as she licked her fingers clean. The fact Sansa could actually still look faintly mortified at the sight of it, even as she panted, chest heaving, was hilarious. Instead of saying anything, Daisy let her side hit the mattress beside Sansa, though no real distance between them at all. She brushed some of Sansa's hair away from her face where it'd stuck to the sheen of sweat coating her.
Sansa's eyes closed as she leaned her face into Daisy's hand ever so slightly. She let out a hum of contentment.
Kissing her shoulder, Daisy affectionately settled against her. A part of her wouldn't mind closing her eyes and dozing in this warm and contented bubble. But she'd have time for that later, she'd rather watch Sansa as she lay there in her arms. She traced idle patterns on Sansa's stomach. At the first faintest of signs of chill, Daisy reached back and grabbed one of the blankets, and pulled it over them.
Sansa's voice was soft but had a rasp to it that made Daisy near purr with contentment to know she'd put that there. "I don't believe I can move."
"That's fine." Daisy brushed her lips against her cheek. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with the warm post sex glow they were allowed to just…enjoy here. It was something she hadn't really had much time for since Miles. Which wasn't someone she wanted to think about right now, so she didn't, instead luxuriating in the gentle softness of Sansa. Because Sansa Stark might be all tightly controlled sharp edges, but beneath the layers and paranoid control freak tendencies, she was soft. And kind and so full of a visceral love for those that were her's. And somehow, she wanted her. Not that she wasn't pretty awesome, thank you very much. But people like Sansa, who loved like her didn't… well they didn't pick people like Daisy.
Sansa shifted slightly. "I just need…a minute."
Daisy huffed in amusement. "I wanted to, you can return the favor some other time." Besides, it wasn't like evidence of her own peak wasn't painted on Sansa's thigh. And honestly, she was far too content to be bothered that she'd only had the one orgasm.
"How late is it?" Sansa asked, clearly wanting the outside world to encroach upon them as much as Daisy did. Which was not at all.
She glanced at the window. "It's at least past ten."
Sansa rolled into her, burying her face into Daisy's shoulder. "Oh gods."
Daisy couldn't help the snicker she let out at that as she ran her fingers down Sansa's spine. "You need a bath before you get dressed too." A fact she was proud of.
"Arya is going to be insufferable." Sansa whined, the lightness of the burdens she set down when it was just the two of them suffusing her.
She hummed. "Think I'll have a second Stark try to strangle me?"
"Second?" Sansa's eyes flew open as she pulled back, looking at Daisy in confusion.
Daisy paused, her voice's pitch rising just a bit too theatrically. "Did I say second? I totally meant first. No idea where you got the second."
"Daisy." Sansa raised her brow, though the corner of her lips twitched. "Which one of my brothers tried to strangle you and why?"
She gave a half shoulder shrug. "Worth a shot. So apparently Jon thought we were faking being lovers."
"Wait…how?" Sansa asked dumbfounded.
Daisy kissed the crinkle between Sansa's eyes. "No idea, but he did. And fun fact, Jon's as much of a warg as Rickon, he just has zero control of it."
"Ghost." Sansa said, utterly horrified as the pieces clicked together.
Daisy actually laughed. "It shocked him enough, I don't think he saw more than a second or two and mostly just smelled what was happening before he slammed into himself. He's very protective of you, and now just feels terrible for trying to strangle me." Daisy bit back a slight wince. "The Northern Lords you sent with him do all know you like being on top most of the time though…so…sorry about that? We can blame Jon if you want to not make it three out of five on the attempted murder."
"I'll kill him." She was red to her ear tips as she buried her head into Daisy's shoulder again. "I'm so sorry. "
Daisy continued to gently trail her finger pads along the dip of Sansa's side. "I'd rather you didn't. You'd be leaving me without a pretty prince meatshield against the Tyrells."
Sansa let out a helpless, unqueenly snort. "Well, if he's a meatshield."
"Very important role." She kissed Sansa. "I'm very uninterested in Tyrells." Daisy grinned into it as she kissed her again. "And you wolves are kinda possessive."
Sansa lightly nipped at her shoulder. "Daisy!"
Laughing she kissed the outraged protests away. Daisy could have floated from the bubbling happiness and contentment. It meant everything.
-.-
Sera sleepily walked into the kitchens of Winterfell. The sun, what there was of it in the early days of winter was emitting weak rays of first dawn. There was a strange atmosphere as she had made her way through Winterfell this morn. Through bleary eyes she saw guards and servants of all kinds whispering, blushed cheeks and rakish grins. Amongst the rabid whispers and gossip there was also a bubbly sense of jubilation and light hearted joy…almost celebratory.
It was odd.
It was as she had entered the Kitchen door that she came to a halt, her confusion reaching a peak.
The morning shift of servants who prepared Winterfell for the day ahead before the nobles even awoke should have been quickly consuming their provided breakfast of porridge… but the groups at the communal table seemed more interested in whispered conversation. Some were intently swapping coins and a night guard with seemingly some knowledge of letters was scribbling on a scrap of paper. Others were smiling brightly, tittering laughter and wide smiles as they practically bounced as they conversed, exchanging some joyous news.
The group was larger than usual. A few stable hands, two of the night shift guards from the walls, Eda and Edla of the laundry servants, a small knot of other laundresses, Godwin and a host of cupbearers and young squires, handmaids and general servants; including Agetha, Edith and Aedra, were all gathered around the table.
Cook and a small host of their assistants worked furiously preparing the food for the nobles to be served later in the great hall.
Cook's usually well disciplined servants and assistants cocked their heads to hear the whispered gossip of the large group behind them, one brave young man even offered some jaunty comment which received snorted laughter in response before he was chastised by Cook's large hand cuffing him around the head. The poisonous glare Cook offered him made the young man drop his eyes back to the bread dough he was meant to be punching down.
Cook spotted Sera and seemed to smile in almost relief at her appearance.
Sera offered a tremulous grin and waved in return as she finally walked into the kitchens proper and settled at the far end of the table.
At last she was close enough to hear the whispered gossip of the knot of servants.
"...a 'alf dozen I say..3 coppers on it…"
"...good, it proves the Queen is still favored…"
"..Bah…nots likely…seven is my guess, 'nd I'll put 4 coppers til it. Divine number t'is seven…"
"...well, after being away for so long, what do people expect? A good thing to sate the god…"
"...even for a god…getin' the ice to thaw'd be 'ard I reckon' four, n'not one more. 2 coppers un it"
"...wish m'husband was half as good…maybe get Her Holiness to give 'im pointers…"
"…huh…me 'usband would need divine blessings to make me 'alf as 'appy…"
"...bah, this is'n no goods less we can find out an answer…no point'n a bet lest ya know who's the winner…"
"...good luck wit' dat, I lak me 'ead where it tis, I ain't askin' none o'those guards fer the answer…they'd sooner cut their own tongue oot, or ours, than spake of d'queen.."
Sera's brows had furrowed as she tried to make sense of the gossip and rapid paced discussion. It sounded like some of the group were placing wagers…on something to do with their Queen? Something they weren't even sure if they could get the answer to? While the other half just seemed pleased by whatever newest thing the Queen had done and…oddly envious? Sera was too tired and it was too early in the morn for court intrigues. She needed some food and another half an hour before her brain could fully work out what all was going on.
Cook set a bowl of porridge and a hunk of bread with a slather of honey on it before Sera. Whether the bread with the luxurious honey was because of her position as the Queen's personal servant, or simply because Cook favored her because of the unspoken alliance they had seemingly created against some of their ever gossipy fellow servants, Sera was unsure.
Nevertheless, she had smiled in thanks and pulled a hunk of bread to nibble on.
Aedra shifted in her seat and spotted Sera then. A frightening grin spread across her features.
She twisted to elbow the tired looking night guard, "Right, Lerner, there's Sera. Bet she'll be able to settle this. Personal servant of the Queen and all."
Cook grimaced, "I told ye' all to watch yer tongues. Bein' pleased fer the Queen is one thing but gossip is 'nother. Yer won't be welcome in m'kitchen if y'keep up this talk. S'not right!"
Aedra rolled her eyes, "It's the talk of Winterfell, noble and smallfolk alike, there no stoppin' it now…the Queen made sure of that this morn!" Aedra's eyes flashed in delighted and sly mischievousness.
"What's going on?" Sera asked hesitantly with a growing sense of dread.
She shoved a spoon of porridge in her mouth and nearly choked as Lerner casually shrugged and said, "Whole place 'eard the Queen gettin' beded by d'god early this morn'. Screamed like a stuck pig she did. There a pool goin' how many peaks the god pulled 'er to? S'pose you'd know as personal servant an all? Not lak we can ask the Royal Guard…humorless fucks."
Sera all but inhaled her porridge in horror. She coughed violently as Cook solicitously tried patting her back to clear her airway.
Cook frowned, "You're a dishonorable cur, speculatin' 'bout such things. I ought to have Steward Bower whip ye all."
Aedra rolled her eyes, "He'd have to whip every servant, guard and noble in Winterfell too then. There's not a tongue that isn't, or won't soon be wagging about the god swiving the Queen so much her cries were and still are bein' 'eard echoing out the window of her chamber into the air and down the hall of the family wing." Aedra throws her hand back in a general gesture at the knot of servants, "Half the servants cleaning and stocking fire n' water in the family wing this morn heard the Queen's moans."
With tears burning her eyes and between weak coughs as she sill tried to clear her throat Sera croaked, "Surely you jest?"
Alanna, a usually quiet servant, nodded hesitantly to Sera while also throwing an annoyed look at Aedra, "The god and the Queen spoke at the high table about somethin' last eve. Something to do with ages which shook everyone by the looks on their faces. Then the god came retired to the Queen's rooms with her and stayed with her it seems. She's been…enthusiastic abou' reunitin' with the Queen since returnin' from the south…and the Queen has been pleased too. Some of us-" here little Alanna glared more pointedly at Aedra and her group of more bawdy gossips- "are pleased fer the Queen and Her Holiness. Everyone's overjoyed their union is strong and flourishin'. It can only be a good thing fer the North."
Aedra rolled her eyes at Alanna and the other frowning servants before she returned her gaze to Sera.
After scrutinizing Sera, Aedra slumped as she frowned. She skewered Sera with a disappointed look, "You did'n know?"
Sera shook her head rapidly, "I retired home to Wintertown last eve and have only arrived back, I haven't gone up to her Majesty's rooms yet."
Lerner groaned, "Well shit, bang goes tha' 'ope of settlin' d'bet."
Sera swung her disbelieving gaze between the group of disappointed servants and Cook at the idea of these stupid idiots betting on anything the Queen and god did. What brain fever had Aedra that she thought Sera would let one word about what her Queen and the god did in their private chambers pass her lips? Settle their bet? Madness! Sera liked having a job and a tongue in her head.
Cook sighed and their lips tightened, "T'is the talk of all the guards and servants. Soon the nobles too I have no doubt when they all fully awake. Her Holiness had a…vigorous morn wit' the Queen who was surely jus' doing her duty as she must. Alas…certain sounds were 'eard by a few loose lipped individuals when they were finishin' their duties in the early hours this morn in the family wing. Mayhap the shutters on her chamber window weren't fully closed an' in stillness of the dawn…some of the guards on the walls at a height…they 'eard things. More'n once."
Lerner snorts, "''eard things…no mistaken a woman at peak that, bloody louder than any I ever 'eard, even from whores in tavern."
The second night guard shoved Lerner none too gently at that comment, "Oye, watch yer tongue lest ye lose it ya cunt. If'n not t' Order, a Lord, hells I'll do it m'self. Her Grace earned the favor of a god, a divine and blessed thing that…I won't hear it besmirched!"
Lerner looked momentarily chastised before catching sight of Aedra's coy grin and he seemingly became brave again…or rather stupid. He rolled his eyes and snorted, "Aye, an' we know how the Queen earns her favor…two 'usbands and now a god."
Half the servants simultaneously rise to their feet in outrage and it looks like Lerner may be lynched but Cook takes a threatening step towards him, beating everyone else to the punch, "Get oot me kitchen, and take yer despicable words wit' ya. Ya dishonor our Queen who does 'er duty fer us all. Get oot an' don't come back 'r it won't be Bower I will be reportin' yer ill respect to but to Prince Rickon the next time he 'appens by for a treat…we'll see how fast ye' talk wit' a direwolf huntin' ya."
Lerner flushed red in anger before paling rapidly at the thought of Prince Rickon hearing of his disrespect of his sister. The boy was but a child but he was learning swiftly, and he was impulsive and vicious enough that he and his bloody horse sized direwolf would no doubt take a bite out of him if he heard of any slight against his sister.
Lerner huffed and gathered himself, "M'night shift is over, I was goin' 'back t'barracks anyways."
Like a petulant child he marched for the door.
Cook gave a severe look to the rest of the group, "The rest of ya, finish yer food and be off. Ya have duties t'attend. The Lords an' Ladies will be risen soon. There fires to stock, stoke and water to be drawn. Go on, get."
A half dozen servants shuffled off in haste while the rest finally turned their attention back to their food and began shoveling porridge into themselves.
Sera had lost her appetite. She nibbled upon her bread and stirred absently at her porridge.
Her cheeks burned even as she shied away from the idea of what she might walk in on this morn when she attended her duties.
There was no getting used to walking in on a god and her Queen the morning after they had been intimate.
Seeing her Queen and the god after their first night together had been mortifying enough. At least then it had been a quiet affair. The joy of the Queen accepting the god's suit had created a quietly pleased atmosphere in Winterfell…nothing so energetic and scandalous as this had occurred since, just the quiet contentment of lovers.
What sounds must have been heard and gossip shared for Winterfell to be so abuzz with a melting pot of joy and lecherous canards this early in the day?
Sera drew out her eating of her porridge for as long as possible, but when Cook began placing fresh loaves in the oven to bake for the morning meal in the great hall, and daylight began more strongly intruding through the tiny window high in the kitchen's wall…she knew she must attend to her duties.
Sera shuffled off towards the family wing. Through corridors and up winding stairs she saw servants and guards as they whispered amongst each other.
She even caught a glimpse of Ser Flint having a hushed conversation with Lord Manderly. Both men looked barely awake and hastily put together. Yet the smug smile on Lord Manderly's lips could not be mistaken.
He had thrown his support strongly behind the Queen and the god, hearing that their union was being reinforced had to be satisfying for the man. Divine favor was worth more than titles or mere gold and the Queen had tied herself thoroughly to the god.
Sera ignored the fleeting glances and pleased smiles that people tried to throw her.
When she entered the family wing she was surprised to see Ser Loras and a blushing Brienne having a whispered conversation at the junction of the long corridor which led to the Queen's chambers…why was Ser Loras not standing guard directly outside the door as usual?
Brienne, a veritable giant amongst women, caught sight of Sera from the corner of her eye and turned towards her.
Ser Loras and her conversation came to an abrupt halt upon seeing her.
Breinne's pale complexion was painfully red, only made more vivid by her short blonde hair.
Ser Loras offered Sera a nod of acknowledgement alongside a gallant smile which she was sure had made maidens and men alike swoon. And maybe she felt a flutter in her stomach herself. Between his noble features, blond locks and the defined muscles from many hours of training filling out his armor so appealingly ...well, Sera was still a young woman gods' damn it and human to boot. It was slightly annoying the effortless effect he inspired, but pillow biter or not, Sera resigned herself to enjoying the small pleasure of his handsome face. Ser Loras was easy on the eyes. Masking her less than pure idle thoughts behind a demure and respectful smile she greeted him with a shallow bow, "Good Morn See Loras, Lady Brienne."
Ser Loras greeted her gallantly in return but with an undertone to his voice that she could not identify.
"Good morn Sera, just the person."
Sera faltered under their combined attention as she halted before them, her curious gaze darting behind them to the Queen's chamber door at the end of the corridor and back.
"Am I interrupting something?" she asked hesitantly.
Brienne grunted but seemed struck mute. Loras smiled a lopsided and almost indulgent look, "Uh, not really? We were just discussing- …You have heard the gossip of these early hours I am sure?" His tone was wry.
Sera stiffened at his direct approach and watched them cautiously, her eyes darting warily between them as though this may be a trap, "If you refer to the…jubilant reports her Majesty was engaged in her duties with Her Holiness as she must…then yes. I had heard that…report."
Brienne's face hardened at the idea of people gossiping about her Queen. She was a rather stoic, honorable and staid sort despite her own breaking of the expectations of her sex in the world. The fact she seemingly hated even the hint of scandal or gossip around her Queen was not unexpected. Loras however plowed on before she might speak, "Right. So…Brienne and I were discussing sending a message to cancel the small council meeting this morn, have the Lords get on with their own work. Maybe have some food set aside in the kitchens…after last time we…we assume the Queen may be a little… delayed to her other duties today. Properly and regularly doing her duty with a god who is also her paramour after her long absence, and considering her soon to be departure once more, must take precedence."
Sera marveled at the linguistic dancing Ser Loras used to diplomatically sum up this scandalous situation. How nobles could make even rampant rutting and tupping to maintain favor sound so staid and routine was surely the result of decades of training at the feet of some dull septon and miserly maester.
Brienne seemed at last to unclench her teeth, "But her Majesty will be deeply displeased with having things delayed if we push things back and she appears for her day on time. It is not our right to make such decisions. The small council can wait, they serve at her pleasure. Making apologies on her behalf and rescheduling things unilaterally however seems…presumptuous."
Loras sighed and ran a hand through his locks, "Well, that's what Sera is here for isn't it? She'll go in to assess whether the Queen is starting her day as normal or whether we should prepare for things to be delayed. I haven't heard anything in some minutes now so perhaps things have…concluded?"
Sera's mind screeched to a halt…minutes? The Queen's sounds of pleasure were still being heard so recently?!
Shit! That was why Loras was standing at the end of the corridor rather than directly outside the Queen's door. He was trying to distance himself from the noise.
Sera fought a mortified blush at the revelation.
Sera's eyes rounded at his declaration and squeaked, "The god is still in her Majesty's chambers?"
Brienne looked away but Loras nodded calmly, "Unless she has left via the window? When I relieved last night's rather flustered and smug guard in the last hour…there were…mmmm sounds…of an intimate nature still emanating from Her Majesty's chambers…it is why I am standing guard down here rather than at the door. Only respectful to give some semblance of privacy afterall."
Sera choked on air…Loras took over his guard shift this morning and the Queen and the god were still…
She had thought from what everyone said in the Kitchens they had overheard an early morning romp to set the god up for the day. Something which would have ended by now, but this sounds like it is something much more…prolonged?
Sera groaned before bucking propriety and all sense of usual respect to skewer the pair before her with a hard stare, "So I am to be the canary down the mine for you?"
Brienne at least looked bashful and almost apologetic, while Loras seemed like he was trying desperately to repress his amusement.
Southern arse probably found the whole situation hilarious. He may be used to such …liaisons in the scandalous pit of King's Landing or Highgarden but this was new ground for the family wing of Winterfell.
Sera squared her shoulders, "Right. Things have been… quiet for the moment?" When Loras and Brienne nodded stoically Sera nodded back with equal seriousness, "Right. Okay then…I'll, I'll just go about my duties as normal and let you know."
Breinne seemed to sag slightly and solemnly replied, "Our thanks."
Sera marched towards her Majesty's door like a warrior going to war. The corridor is long. This morning it seemed longer.
All seemed quiet.
Having reached the door Sera sucked in a breath and entered. Her eyes cast to the ground.
Entering and shutting the door Sera finally flickered her eyes up. The fire of the solar was all but embers. There was no trail of discarded clothes and the bedchamber door remained closed…so far it was an improvement on Sera's last morning after the Queen did her no doubt pleasing duty with the god. Sera was coming to just expect having to play hide and seek with discarded clothes when she entered the Queen's chambers these mornings, at least it seemed to be becoming a common occurrence when the god was in residence.
Sera was just beginning to relax and considering restocking the fire of the solar when a sudden keening scream pierced the air.
"AHHHH, UHHH!"
At first Sera thought it a scream of pain, but then it was followed by groaning guttural cries which petered out into muttered, half pleading words. Sera was frozen. What the fuck? What the fuck is the god doing that could illicit such euphoric and unimpeded sounds from their controlled Queen? To make the most ruthless Northern Queen in centuries beg and whine?
Her ears strained against her will and she heard the unmistakable mumbled voice of her Queen speaking rapidly, breathlessly and with urgency…
"Please, Please…Yes!...Faster! Uhhh! Yes, Yes…Daisyyyy!"
The words were half cut off and muffled by the heavy walls and doors but they reached Sera's ears nonetheless. A breathy tone to her Queen's desperate voice she had never thought to hear…before a suddenly louder scream of primitive and primal pleasure cuts through the air.
By the old gods and the new…what sort of divine power creates that kind of peak?!
Sera jumped and retreated with haste from the Solar as though her heels were on fire.
It certainly felt like her face and her ears were.
She slams the chamber door closed and races back down the corridor where a blushing Loras and Brienne wait. From their faces it seems even they caught the tail end of the Queen's cry of pleasure…even here. A bedchamber wall, solar and another stone wall, as well as a corridor between them and the source of the noise…and still it can be heard.
No wonder the servants tending the rest of the family wing this morn had heard things. Those on the floor directly below could probably hear the Queen too.
Brienne looked like she wished desperately to flee. Her eyes were wide and she fidgeted. It was times like these that Sera believed the rumors that Brienne was not just a mighty knight, but was in fact a maiden warrior of myth.
Sera panted. Loras looked at Sera apologetically, yet the amusement in his eyes which said he was glad it was not him who had ventured into those chambers tells Sera he wasn't half as sorry as he should be.
Through a strained voice Ser Loras calmly enquired, "I take it the Queen will be indisposed this morn?"
If looks could kill then Ser Loras would have dropped instantly dead from Sera's poisonous look. She gritted out between clenched teeth, "Yes. Her Majesty is… busy with her duties. I will see to my other duties and return later. You might be kind enough to send for me when things…quiet long enough to indicate my services might be required!"
Brienne seemed to jump in place before offering a stoic nod, "I will inform the small council. The meeting can be canceled or perhaps the Lords would like to meet to discuss things amongst themselves after the morning meal. I trust you will be able to set aside food for her Majesty?"
Sera nodded hastily, "I will speak with Cook."
Brienne nodded to Loras and then Sera, "Right!" and then hastily marched off double time.
Sera noded to Loras and turned to follow Brienne. She almost felt sorry for Loras as they abandoned him to his duty here alone. Almost.
An hour went by without a message from Loras. Then another. At the third, Sera was considering returning to the family wing to check on things herself in case Loras had forgotten to send for her. She cast aside the idea, there was no chance of that. And with the continued gossip and looks she was seeing from other servants and nobles it was clear that the festivities in the Queen's chambers were still being overheard intermittently from the floors below and by those foolish servants brave enough to make excuses to find duties near to the family wing to let them keep sharp ears open for more evidence of the Queen's busy morning. She had spent the time collecting dresses from the laundry, organizing a tub and pails for the bath her Queen may want and making up some new herbal bags to keep moths and parasites away from clothes and drapes. Eda and Edla had seemed amused that Sera was coming herself to retrieve the gowns from the laundry but she had not broken before their curious inquiries regarding why she was completing such a task or how the Queen was this morn.
On the fourth hour Brienne marched into the store room where Sera was retrieving a cake of soap from, "Ser Loras informs me that the Queen may now be ready for you."
Sera bowed and whispered a quick thanks before scurrying off. Breinne never once met her eyes. Sera's stomach was queasy at the words 'may be ready' and the uncertainty that lay there. She so hoped this wasn't another false alarm and she was about to walk in on another mortifying moment.
Returning to the family wing, Sera greeted Ser Loras who stood as stoic and unmoving as ever.
"Ser Loras."
"Sera." he replied. They watched each other for a moment. Sera's eyes darted once more down to the Queen's chamber door.
"Has her Majesty or her Holiness made their plans for this morn known yet?" Sera asked hopefully.
Loras shook his head subtly, "No…things have been…quiet. For a while."
The emphasis on the word 'quiet' made heat suffuse Sera's cheeks but she refused to allow herself to become any more a source of amusement for Ser Loras.
"A while?" Sera questioned suspiciously. She was not eager to preemptively interrupt the god and the Queen.
Ser Loras, hearing the cautious suspicion in her voice nodded as sincerely as possible, "Aye, things have been quiet for some time now. I swear I believe it safe for you to enter, and the Queen will likely be in need of your services."
Sera eyed Loras through slightly lowered lids. He shifted minutely as though nervous in the face of her silence, as though he were afraid she may abandon her post and leave him to wait on a ravished Queen or god coming to the door to call upon him to retrieve her once more.
After another few moments of silence in which Sera thinks Loras is actually beginning to look nervous, she feels he has suffered enough for his earlier amusement at her predicament.
"Right," she nodded suddenly, and without further comment she marched towards Her Majesty's chamber door.
Pausing outside, Sera strained her ears. When no sounds became obviously apparent she pushed in, her eyes once more fixed to the Solar floor.
With a flickering glance she verified once more that nothing had changed in the Solar, apart from the fire having completely extinguished.
After a few seconds of stillness and hearing no sounds, mundane or…salacious, Sera proceeded to see to the fire. The routine of duties settled her nerves.
She cleared the ashes, stocked and restarted the fire with practiced efficiency. She opened shutters to air and lighten the room. Lastly she collected the dirtied cups and goblets the Queen and Holiness had used for tea and wine. Emptied the teapot of used tea and stacked it for a quick rinse. She stacks the cups and teapot by the door and finally replaces diminished candles with fresh ones, ensuring there is a healthy stock of new ones in the cupboard before topping up the ink well at the Queen's desk and making a note to bring up another bottle and some more blank paper. The amount of paper the Queen goes through is truly impressive.
With these jobs done…Sera has procrastinated enough, she has to venture to her Majesty's chambers.
Sera walked on hesitant feet to the bedchamber door. She listened with strained ears but heard nothing.
After a final deep breath she had no choice but to enter the room.
Sera kept her gaze on the floor as she entered.
The first thing that hit her was the smell as soon as she cracked the door.
The air in the room was thick and musky. The scent of sex and sweat hung heavy. Sera's cheeks flamed and she clamped her mouth shut, taking short breaths through her nose as she consciously diverted her mind from thinking what possible activities the god and her Queen could have done for half the morn to make this room smell like the most well used whore house in all of Westeros.
The bedchamber was dimly lit. The shutters are still closed and the only light in the room came from the gap between the heavy drapes and the shuttered windows.
Sera cast her eyes around the room and saw clothes discarded on the floor as had become her new strange norm. The fire flickered lightly as though someone had taken the time to restock and stoke it during….whatever had been going on here last night.
Sera finally glanced in the direction of the bed and saw the god sitting up, her back against the headboard just barely covered by furs and blankets.
The Queen was spread across her. Boneless and possessively sprawled across the god's form…looking wrecked. God of destruction indeed, Sera can see exactly what was being destroyed and quaked this morn!
Daisy nodded pleasantly in greeting to Sera, her fingers never stopping from idly playing with the Queen's hair and flicking soft caresses across her shoulder. A smug smile made her teeth flash and her dark eyes almost glittered in the gloom of the shuttered room.
Taking it as permission Sera moved to enter properly, swiftly setting about to open the drapes and the shutters on the windows.
Weak light illuminated the room.
The Queen shifted, her eyes fluttering open at the new brightness.
Sera made briefest eye contact before dropping into a deep curtsey.
"Good morn your Majesty, Holiness." Sera greeted in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Sup" the god greeted in return. Her cocky smile only grew, not a hint of a blush or discomfort at being found in bed, barely covered alongside the Queen. If anything, the god radiated satisfied pride. She was the cat that got the cream…which considering what Sera had heard and even now sees before her, seems completely apt.
Queen Sansa twisted and grunted what might have been a greeting.
Sera tried very hard not to gawk at the dissolute Queen who seemed almost insensate as she rested possessively across her god. Blissfully well satiated. A pleased carnality in her bearing that made Sera shift uncomfortably and a curl of heat worm through her gut before she could tear her eyes from the tableau of the Queen and the god.
There was tiredness etched on her Queen's face, to be expected since she had evidently had her ashes thoroughly raked for literal hours by an insatiable god. Not that the Queen did not seem to enjoy that duty a great deal…quite the opposite in fact if her languorous demeanor was any indication.
Yet, the Queen's eyes were liquid pools of contentment, almost half asleep still as though she was still overcome by the reminder of her peaks and not fully conscious.
The Queen was usually up from bed when Sera came in, even if the god was still in the bed. At worst, her Majesty would rise quickly from the bed once Sera entered the room. Not this morn, the Queen was so thoroughly…gorged on pleasure that she seemed in no rush to leave the bed.
Sera busied herself with lifting clothes from the floor, setting them aside to be laundered, picking out fresh clothes from chests and seeing to setting up a large pot of water to heat over the fire for washing while the god and Queen shared quiet husky words in half whispers.
Eventually the Queen sighed mournfully and seemed to wake enough to begin making very reluctant movements to rise. The god seemed in no such rush, merely lying back and watching the Queen stretch beneath the furs and inch her way rather gingerly to the edge of the bed.
The Queen moved with the stiffness of a woman well ridden and saddle sore. Sera remembered some stable boys bantering about conquests with silly girls and whores, their crude slang coming aptly to mind to describe the Queen, " Well ridden and put up wet." All the Queen's limbs are free of tension because of euphoric pleasure but seemingly unsteady from strain of the most pleasant kind.
Sera sets aside the wash cloths she was setting up and races to her Queen's side, half worried her hedonistic inebriation would have her staggering as though she were deep in her cups. She lifted the light shift to hand to her Majesty as she rose from the bed on unsteady legs which were still weak kneed.
Even with her eyes averted politely like the well trained servant she was, Sera cannot help but notice the lover's marks which colored the Queen's neck, nor the half dozen other shadows of faintest marks and darkening bruises of love bites in intimate locations. The tackiness of a full body sweat, tangled hair and other dried liquids were readily evident.
The Queen must notice how Sera's eyes widened involuntarily because her own eyes roved over her form and her hand rose to her neck, her eyes going half blind as she gazed into the distance as though suddenly lost in a consumingly pleasant remembrance of how such an intimate mark was created.
Sera was speechless. Her respect for the Queen's courage, audacity and sheer balls goes up another notch. To willingly climb into bed with a god is one thing, to do it with a god of destruction that seems to have the stamina of a draft horse and the skill of a royal whore to go for hours…and to merely leave the bed with but a few love marks, some stickiness and a little stiffness…the Queen has Sera's undiluted respect. Not for all the gold in Westeros would she want to climb into a bed with something so…so powerful and determined.
The Queen flicked a half accusing look over her shoulder at the god. A look with no real heat and which seems only to amuse the god.
The Queen pulled on the shift even as her cheeks and chest blossomed into a mortified blush of blood red. She avoided looking Sera in the face as she cleared her throat and said, "It would seem…-"
The Queen's hand flew to her throat as her words trailed off in shock. Her voice was ragged and coarse.
If anything her blush deepened as she cleared her throat a few times and cast another harsher look at the god. The god who seemed only smugger and more pleased at hearing the Queen's broken voice.
The Queen's voice was croaky as though she had contracted a sore throat…or screamed herself hoarse in throat shredding euphoric ecstasy since barely dawn until half the morning had waned.
Sansa, her cheeks now flying off her in bright red heat, cleared her throat once more and tried futilely to seem regal as she rasped, "It seems I will need a high collared dress today Sera."
Sera fought her own blush as she nodded and squeaked, "Of course, Majesty."
Sera wanted to say something reassuring. To say she was glad for the Queen that she was happy. That the people of Winterfell were overjoyed that she and the god were seemingly so pleased with each other's deepening relationship. Yet she held her tongue. She was but a servant. It was not her place.
Sera reached for the clothes chest to replace the dress she had lifted out for the day and pulled out one with a much higher neck.
The Queen was speaking with the god, "Could you not have left your marks a little lower? I won't be able to look a single one of my Lords in the eye…"
The god laughed back, her eyes dancing in barely suppressed mirth before she threw off the blankets and rose to display her own body as she turned and reached for a shirt.
The god's body was a map of scratches and love bites. Her neck was decorated in a veritable necklace of teeth marks and fading bruises from love bites.
Evidence that the bed games were not entirely one sided and evidently not long over since the god had yet to heal the Queen's marks.
The god seemed unconcerned at how the Queen blushed anew and her eyes darkened as she assessed her naked form. Or at how Sera's heart raced and her breath caught at seeing evidence of their Queen's passion.
The Wolf Queen indeed. A small voice in the back of Sera's mind whispered before she could quash it that the Queen must be quite insatiable and an eager participant in matters of the bed indeed to be able to mark the god in such a thorough way…and to make the god seem so proudly joyous of it.
"I don't think Sansa, that you get to complain about my few little marks when you leave far more, and far more vivid ones on me than I do on you. Good job I'm not human, my possessive wolf." The god jibes back.
The Queen's eyes flickered to Sera in embarrassment that her servant was witness to this discussion and evidence of her bed habits. Although Sera would argue that pride too lurked in the depths of those blue eyes, beneath her clear awkward self consciousness at the situation. Sera hastily looked away, busying herself with pulling out a cloak to match the high necked dress.
The Queen rallied admirably despite her seemingly permanent blush, "You heal quickly enough any…marks I leave will be gone before the turn of the day."
The god cocked a brow before replying cheekily, "Who says I am going to hang out here until they fade? I have stuff to do."
Sansa seemed to choke on her breath, a sudden restrained note of incredulous panic infecting her usually controlled voice, "But…people will see…they'll know…"
The god smirked and shrugged carelessly, "That the wolf likes to bite? Probably. They'll only see the top of my neck with my gambeson on, and only a few people cause the marks will fade soon enough. Despite your best efforts."
The Queen groaned and rubbed her brow, "I am never going to live this down." The mortification was clear to hear in the Queen's voice, even as broken and crackly as it was.
Sera took pity on her Queen. The rare show of youth and vulnerability pulling at Sera. She hesitantly cleared her throat.
"Might I recommend a bath my Queen, and a salve from Wolkan…for bruises…and um…perhaps some lemon and honey tea. That is the usual remedy for… sore throats and um…oncoming colds?"
Sansa darted her gaze to Sera and seemed to sag slightly, resigning herself to the embarrassment of the situation.
"Please Sera, a bath would be welcome, and if you would be so kind as to… discreetly retrieve such a balm and tea for me it would be appreciated."
Sera nodded vigorously, pleased at the chance to escape, "I will draw the tub in the solar. It may take some time. I will then nip down to Wolkan and to the Kitchen's your Grace while you clean up a little. There is fresh water and linens by the fire as usual."
"Thank you Sera. I suppose since I got Sansa so dirty and delayed her morning I should help. If you draw the tub I can heat the water, no need to delay heating it.
Sansa blushed to the roots of her hair, "Daisy!" she cried in outrage and embarrassment at the innuendo.
Daisy merely smirked. Sansa frowned, her cheeks bright red, "You are making Sera uncomfortable" whispered Sansa.
Sera was quietly glad that her Queen recognised how truly uncomfortable this whole situation was for her.
Sera quite frankly wanted the floor to swallow her whole. No mortal should be witness to their Queen and a god bantering about such intimate matters while standing looking thoroughly ravished.
Her broken voice only made the words sound even more sincere.
The god nodded a little more sheepishly this time with the first signs of seriousness that whole morning, "Yeah, uh sorry Sera, and uh, thanks. You're a great help…and uh…thanks for…uh, giving us privacy this morning."
"What?" Sera and the Queen asked simultaneously.
Daisy for the first time that morning shifted a little uncomfortably, "Uh, Sera popped by earlier but…left? I felt her with my powers but we were….um… occupied ?"
If possible the Queen seemed to be wishing for death to take her now or that the stone floor would open up and consume her as much as Sera was. Her face was now perpetually aflame to the point Sera worried it may permanently stay red. Sansa's eyes closed as she took a calming breath which she breathed out in a tired whisper, "Oh gods…you heard…" The Queen mumbled some more beneath her breath but seemed thoroughly done with this atrocity of a situation.
Sera does not have the heart or the bravery to correct the Queen that it was many more people than just herself who had heard the Queen being thoroughly debauched and enthusiastically ravished for the last number of hours.
Neither Sera nor the Queen look at one another.
Sera cleared her throat, "Uh…um, I uh, checked the solar and when it was uh…apparent you were busy I left again. I told Brienne you were having a late morning so she made arrangements for the Small Council meeting to be canceled and I attended to other duties."
Daisy smiled, "Thanks Sera, I, uh, think I'll just wait to heat the tub water and will then go and swing by the kitchen for some food, but Sansa might want to eat here. I am starving, I really built up an appetite w-"
"Daisy!" Sansa snapped in mortification as though afraid the god was going to casually reveal yet more details of the wanton acts which built up that particular appetite.
Daisy smiled and rounded the bed to hug the Queen with a muffled laugh, "Sorry, couldn't resist."
The Queen for all her mortification and anger seemed to sag into the god. Like an apple must meet the ground when it falls from a tree, the Queen gravitated to the god.
Sera took the opportunity to make her escape. She relit the Solar fire and went about having a tub prepared. With rapid steps she fled the chambers, barely acknowledging Loras. With discreet words to the most tight lipped of servants she had a tub brought to the Solar and with rapid movements Sera and her fellow servants filled the tub with pales of water. Jaston and Alisant questioned why they were filling a tub with cold water but quelled their questions at Sera's glare and snapped order that it was the Queen's wishes. Let them speculate. Their eyes had fairly swung around the Solar as though looking for evidence of the gossip of what the Queen had been up to all morning. Sera was just glad that the Queen and god stayed in their bedchamber until they had left. The last thing they needed was servants seeing a barley dressed Queen and god whose bodies fairly advertised their morning debauchery.
When Jaston and Alisant had left she knocked quietly on the bedchamber door. The god had sauntered out with her gambeson barely covering her and a sloppily pulled on pair of pants. She negligently waved her hand at the tub of cold water and curls of steam began rising easily from it. The god smiled cockily and returned to the bedchamber. Sera sighed. Divine miracles were becoming old hat. She is sure if the rest of the morning had not been so shocking then she would have had more of a crisis about the god so negligently heating a tub of water with a mere flick of her wrist. She gathered the soiled clothes she had brought out of the bedchamber and left in the solar, gathered the cups and teapot and hastily retreated out of the rooms.
Sera dropped off the gown and clothes with Eda and Edla to be washed. She can tell they wanted to interrogate her by their mischievous smiles, but she dropped the clothing and once again dashed off before they could do anything more than offer a brief greeting.
Returning to the kitchens with the goblets, mugs and teapot, she cleaned them thoroughly and set them aside on a tray to carry back upstairs. The teapot and mugs could have been rinsed using a basin of water in the Queen's solar but frankly Sera was just glad to be able to escape the Queen's chambers. Such a mortifying morning.
Sera approached Cook.
"Cook, may I speak with you a moment?" Sera asked politely, fighting to not meet any of the curious eyes of the assistants.
Cook nodded easily, swotted two of her assistants with a rag for being nosey and issued orders about cleaning the trays and serving dishes the cupbearers and servants had been preparing for the midday meal which was rapidly approaching.
Sera trotted to the far end of the Kitchen by the pantry, away from the other servants and was thankful when Cook followed without complaint or question.
"Aye, what can I be doin' fer ya Sera?" Cook asked in their usual direct manner.
Sera straightened the folds of her work gown and the neat apron she wore, trying to avoid eye contact. She kept her voice low as possible so it did not travel and Cook leaned in to hear better.
"Her Majesty will be… delayed in seeing to her duties this morn. Since the morning meal has been over for some two hours already, I will need a tray to bring her in her chambers so that she may break her fast before attending her other duties."
Cook was silent for a moment, the implications of recent gossip and Sera's request percolating in their sharp mind.
Thankfully Cook merely offered a small smile and nodded sharply while absently rubbing their large hands in their work apron.
"T'is no problem. Queen needs to keep her strength up. I'll see ter it m'self. A tray of bread, honey, some cheeses…maybe a small bit o'porridge and berries." Cook seemed pleased at the idea of personally seeing to the Queen's needs.
Sera felt her stiff shoulders relax slightly, "My thanks. I have a tray set aside with some goblets, cups and a teapot I cleaned and must return to Her Majesty's chambers. If you could add the food to it, I can take it all up at once."
Cook nodded, "Aye, tis no problem tha'."
Cook went to turn and see to it but Sera interrupted their retreat with a hand upon their elbow, "Wait…"
Cook turned back and raised a brow.
Sera hesitated for a moment and could feel herself fidgeting at the thought of what she has to ask for next, "Her Majesty will also require a …soothing drink. She has contracted a…malady of the throat and uh, a concoction of warmed honey and lemons would not go amiss."
Cook suddenly narrowed their eyes on Sera, concern alight, "The Queen is unwell? Or injured? Should you not call Maester Wolkan, surely he would have a better remedy for such a malady."
Sera felt her cheeks heating and her eyes darted around the room as she avoided Cook's gaze. She groaned before fixing Cook with a hard stare and dropping her voice to hold a tone with an exasperated and almost desperate edge, "No! The Queen is not injured and …she is not exactly unwell…it is just…well, her voice is…strained…from her morning duties . Some soothing honey may help."
Cook seemed frozen for a moment as the implications of what Sera had said settled into their mind.
"Oh!" Cook's lips twitched as though even their stoic demeanor was fighting a smile at the idea of the Queen so loudly enjoying her morning that she needed a throat soothing tonic.
Sera hunched forwards, "Yes, 'oh!' As you can imagine it is a delicate matter and I am attempting to prevent…yet further gossip." Or backslapping congratulations. It was like the Queen's accomplishment of bedding a god so enthusiastically was cause for great national and patriotic pride amongst the people. Sera was coming to understand what the god meant every time she mumbled 'bloody Nortehrners' under her breath. They were a unique people.
Sera threw a look over Cook's shoulders at the curious and delighted eyes of the servants.
Cook frowned before straightening. They pet Sera on the shoulder in an oddly parental fashion. "You serve well. I'll see til it m'self. My nan had a good remedy: lemon, honey, and some clove oil…should do the trick. I'll make it myself an' have it in a jug aside from the vittles on d'tray."
Sera sighed in relief and offered Cook a tremulous smile, "My thanks."
Cook huffed, "No need t'thank me. Tis m'job."
Sera nodded, "I have an errand to run. I will be back shortly for the tray."
Cook nodded and bustled off to see to the food and the remedy for the Queen's throat.
Sera slipped from the Kitchens and headed for Maester Wolkan's rooms. He often worked in an office attached to a large room set aside for healing the sick and wounded which was lined with beds.
Sera avoided the curious gazes of servants and and guards alike, keeping her eyes fastened to the floors as she sped to her destination.
When Sera entered the healing rooms she was gladdened to see there were only three individuals in beds: One looks to be a Smith who was dozing with his arm elevated and a green paste smeared across his exposed arm. A burn perhaps. The second was a guard who was currently running a fever. The third is the woman, Talia. She was off to the side closest to Wolkan's office. She sleeps deeply still, but after hearing the rumors that the mad Smith-touched man had cut a babe from her belly and she had lived…well, it was only to be expected that such a thing would take time to recover from.
Sera hurried towards Wolkan's office. The man was bent over paper, reading what Sera identified as the chicken scratch of the god's companion Fitz. Wolkan's face was intent on whatever it was he was reading and so he hadn't seen or heard her approach.
She knocked on the open door and he startled in his seat.
"Oh…uh…Sera? Yes?" Wolkan greeted her.
Sera stepped into the room and without asking closed the door in order to grant them some privacy.
Wolkan's brows rose at her bold move but he did not comment.
"Good morn Maester. Apologies for the interruption. I need to request some bruise balm." Sera rushed. Better to snap the bone clean than dance around it.
If anything, Wolkan seemed even more surprised by her abrupt manner and request. His brows can scarcely rise any higher up his brow.
After a moment of stilted silence between them his mind seemed to catch up to the situation and they snapped down in a furrow. Calculated intelligence worthy of the title Maester had him eyeing Sera suspiciously.
"And why does the primary servant of our Queen need bruise balm? Surely if it were for yourself you would have simply paid a copper for some in Wintertown or like most smallfolk made some traditional remedy yourself?"
He eyed Sera speculatively.
Sera cursed internally. No bruises adorned any visible skin that she showed, and Wolkan was correct that smallfolk like herself would craft their own bruise balms or wait for them to fade naturally…it was not like they had time for vanity or anyone who would care much about bruises.
Sera gritted her teeth and said what Wolkan had likely already worked out, "It is for her Majesty, hence why it is you I am asking. It must be the best of such a remedy afterall."
Wolkan stood abruptly from his chair and rounded his desk. His eyes were suddenly feverish in concern, "Is our Queen well? Has she been hurt?"
Sera had a horrible realization that, as Maester under the Bolton's, Wolkan likely was the one who attended Sansa on the very rare occasions she was granted the mercy of medical aid after Ramsey harmed her. A boon that, if gossip was to be believed, was extremely rare since Ramsey the sick fuck had liked tormenting Sansa and denying her care. Only the most grievous injuries that might fester or lead to death were ever treated it was whispered. Sadistic bastard died too quickly.
Sera rushed to reassure the Maester, "Her Majesty is well…she is uninjured, she merely needs a bruise balm."
Wolkan would not be deterred or let the issue go however, "Needing a bruise balm and being uninjured are mutually exclusive my dear. If the Queen has need of such a remedy then she must have some injury…has the god hurt her…while she… did her duty ? Has she other injuries? Tell me!"
Sera was surprised by his sudden intensity, "No, no, just a few bruises. Bruises the Queen wishes to not be the subject of gossip amongst the court and to heal more quickly."
Wolkan sags as though it was he who has taken injury, "I must assess the Queen then. If she has been injured and is trying to hide the extent of her harm from the court in order to protect her standing and the bargain she has struck with the god…"
Sera's eyes widened. No. This cannot happen. If Wolken insisted on going to the Queen's chambers then everyone would know. The gossip would get worse and people would incorrectly assume the god has hurt the Queen badly. The Queen would be further embarrassed and angry that Sera had escalated the situation rather than saving her blushes.
Sera wants to shout at Wolkan, to tell him he is being an idiot for thinking the Queen is hurt when reality couldn't be further from such an incorrect assumption. The Queen is practically walking on air, blissfully happy, well sexed and rather smug (beneath the embarrassment of realizing everyone will know of her enthusiasm and enjoyment of the bed) about her decadently salacious endeavors with the god.
Sera threw herself back barring the door with a low hissed, "No!" Her cheeks flamed as she harshly whispered at Wolkan "The Queen has a number of love bites and bruises from her duties with the god. Some saddle stiffness. Nothing else. The bruise balm is for one mark on her neck which she needs to fade more quickly since she does not have many high collared dresses and even those won't fully hide the marks of such…intimate passion."
Sera's face was on fire. Her tongue felt blistered at having to speak such intimate details to Wolkan about her Queen.
Wolkan seemed insensate and shocked into silence, his eyes were huge and a mottled flush burned his face, down his neck and disappeared beneath his gambeson.
Wolkan cleared his throat awkwardly, "Uh…um, right, I see. I…um good… no! I mean uh…oh gods…"
Wolkan turned and circled back around his desk. He turned his back on Sera as he began searching through a small chest on a shelf. Small tincture bottles and clay pots clinked as he searched through the chest.
Sera felt air burn in her lungs as she tried to steady her breathing from her panicked ramble. The heat of her face cooled slowly.
Wolkan seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to find the bruise balm in the small chest he was hoking in, but Sera supposed he was probably taking the time to reassert his composure. She was half glad of the chance to do the same herself.
Only when the bright red flush on the back of Wolkan's neck had settled did he turn back with a small clay jar in his hand. The wax paper top was neatly bound with thick twine.
Wolkan slid the jar across the table, studiously avoiding making eye contact with Sera as though doing so would call to mind the conclusions her words had so boldly painted of their Queen's intimate condition.
"This balm will aid in healing. Her Majesty should rub it in twice, three times a day. Small circular motions. Be generous with the balm. If she needs more, then you are to come for it immediately. I will have more prepared. Just in case."
Even for all of his embarrassment at the topic of conversation and his original misconception, he seems oddly pleased at the notion the Queen will yet have cause for needing more bruise balm.
The whole bloody North was far too proud and too deeply invested in the Queen's sex life if you asked Sera.
Sera snatched the small jar, stuffed it deeply into the pocket of her gown and bowed abruptly.
"Thank you Maester," And she swung the door open and raced back towards the kitchen.
Her hasty exit was undoubtedly rude but Sera needed to escape. Besides, she had a tray to deliver to her Queen.
When Sera returned to the Kitchen Cook was setting a large pewter jug on the tray alongside neat bowls of porridge, berries, cheese and bread. The strong smell of lemon, honey and cloves filled the Kitchens, the curling steam from the jug scented the air with the warm scent.
Undoubtedly the entire Kitchen knew what Cook had made and that Sera was taking it to the Queen. Knowing looks with suppressed smiles were being exchanged between servants in the Kitchen. Undoubtedly when the Queen's croaky voice was heard, combined with this jug, more rumors would begin. Sera only hoped that at least some of them were that the Queen had a sore throat rather than that her screams of pleasure broke her voice while doing her coital duties with the god.
Sera nodded to Cook, "My thanks."
Cook merely nodded as Sera hefted the laden tray and began her climb back to the Queen's chambers.
Ser Loras had returned to guarding the Queen's chamber by standing directly outside her door. Sera felt a sigh of relief pass her lips as she approached. For him to have returned to such a post, the god must have left the Queen's chambers.
Ser Loras nodded at her approach and seeing her hands laden with the tray he opened the door to the Queen's chambers without prompting.
Sera entered the Solar and saw the fire roaring but the room was still empty.
The tub was empty but had obviously been used. A stack of used clothes lay on the bench that stretched across it and the small cake of soap was thoroughly used.
Sera hastened her steps. The Queen must have rushed her bath to have been finished before Sera could return.
The Queen was likely feeling guilty for her delayed morning and trying to rush to catch up.
She set the tray on the table, arranged the food dishes and the jug of throat soothing concoction. With efficient movements she lifted the mugs, cup and teapot and set them on the small side table from whence they had come. With a steadying breath she walked towards the bedchamber.
Opening the door, Sera was once more confronted with the musky scent. Even with the windows opened and airing the room, the scent lingered still.
The Queen was standing by the small vanity table which held the basin of water. A stack of used drying towels rested on the edge. The Queen had combed and braided her still wet hair in Sera's absence.
She was just pulling on the high collared gown as Sera approached. The gaping back and open laces needed to be done.
Sera raced to aid her Queen lace her gown without a single word needing to pass between them.
The Queen seemed uncharacteristically relaxed, her fingers fiddled with a loose lock of hair absently and she offered Sera a faint quirk of her lips over her shoulder as Sera took the gown's laces in hand.
The Queen seemed…floaty…lost in pleasant thoughts to Sera. It was an unusual but not unwelcome occurrence. A divine act perhaps, because Sera is sure nothing less than the thorough work of a god and divine powers could ever have made the sharp, controlled Queen act so…soft.
Some fine fucking indeed. Sera almost feels a moment's regret that she had dedicated herself to service rather than pursuing some flighty relationship of sensuality. She quickly discarded the flight of fancy however, her youthful dalliances had been…interesting but never had she enjoyed them enough to compromise her independence as was want to happen to women…they had been the fun and risky brushes with love and lust she had managed to keep quiet without being ruined…but not earth shattering affairs. Warm embers when compared to the blazing inferno of the Queen's passion for the god.
Sera focused on lacing the dress even as she tried to make sense of this softer version of the Queen. She seemed content, at peace this morn, almost…happy?
Sera felt unsettled and a souring in her gut at the notion she had never seen her Queen quietly happy before. That is not how it should be. Their Queen deserved happiness after all she had suffered and all she continues to do for the North.
The god gave the Queen that happiness…and for that alone Sera would thank her. In her mind. She was a good servant afterall and knew her place.
Her embarrassment at the awkwardness of this morning was a small price for the Queen's happiness.
Sera finished lacing the gown and Sansa turned to face her.
Sera fussed with the gown, fixing the fall and straightening the cuffs. Reaching behind her she lifted the leather girdle and wrapped it around the Queen's waist, circling to fasten the buckles.
The dark leather is militaristic. A severe thing. Austere and hard. It casts a shadow across this softer version of the Queen, like armor hiding the beautiful lover who can only exist in these chambers with the god.
The Queen stood unusually passive as Sera finished dressing her. Her gaze was lost in the distance and if you looked only at that distracted visage, there was a softness to her face which made her look her age…young. So painfully young.
The Queen suddenly stifled a yawn.
A blush tinted her cheeks as Sansa covered her mouth with a hand and quietly offered an apology in a croaky husk, "Excuse me."
Sera dared to offer the Queen a small reassuring smile as she tried not to focus on the dark circles beneath her Majesty's eyes which betrayed how little sleep she had gotten and how vigorous her morning had been already.
Sera fixed the collar of the gown but could not help a small puckering frown stealing across her brow as she saw that even this high collared gown would not fully hide the god's love bite.
Probably her intention.
Sera reached into her pocket and pulled out the small jar of bruise balm. She held it up to the Queen, keeping her eyes fixed on the love bite peaking out around her Queen's collar, "Maester Wolkan provided this balm. He instructed for it to be applied twice or thrice a day. Be generous with the balm and massage it into the affected area with small circles. When it runs out, let me know and I will retrieve more."
The implication that more would be needed was not lost on the Queen but she did not disagree with Sera.
From the corner of her eye Sera saw blood rush to the Queen's cheeks and race down her neck.
The Queen took the jar and examined it.
Ordinarily Sera would have offered to aid in application of the balm, but she knows her Queen, knows she lets none but her family and the god touch her casually.
Sera offered a respectful curtsy.
"I will see to my other duties, my lady. I have left a tray of food and a jug of Cook's lemon and honey in your solar. If you have a need of anything else I will be stripping the bed."
Sera circled the Queen to see to the bed.
The Queen stood still as a statue for a moment before taking the balm and quickly applying it in smooth circles. The Queen's finger's lingered on the love bite, lost in memory.
After another moment she shook her head and fixed her collar. She pulled at it and huffed at its refusal to fully cover the evidence of the god's lust.
Sera muses to herself that perhaps the Queen will commission dresses with even higher collars or she may begin wearing elaborate choker necklaces.
Sansa strode to a small chest and stashed the jar of bruise balm alongside her hair powders.
Sera heard the Queen's quick steps take her back across the bedchamber and out into the solar where food awaited.
Sera focused back on the bed and her nose wrinkled before she could stop it at the state of the thing. She stripped the heavy furs from the top and even at a glance she could see that the blankets and base sheets were…damp.
What the hell was the god doing to the Queen that had soaked the beddings and left them so…wet?
Sera had worked in the tavern in Wintertown for a time when barely passed childhood, stripping and cleaning beds for the whores…but even she had never seen such evidence of wanton debauchery.
Sera is sure that not even the orgies of Tyrion Lannister with every whore available when he passed through the North all those years ago had left bedding so soiled with evidence of rampant lust.
Whatever the god had been doing to the Queen in this bed…she had enjoyed it…a lot.
Sera gritted her teeth as she tried valiantly to block out the scent and to stop her traitorous brain from wondering what it must have taken to leave a bed in such a state.
It was still a little confusing to be confronted with the idea of two women finding such pleasure of the bed in each other…how did such a thing work?
Sera shrugged unconsciously to herself, however the bed games progressed the evidence of enjoyment was clear and Sera's mind could not help but muse:
What passion a god must have?
What peaks she could rouse even their controlled Queen to?
Idly she remembered the servants bets this morn about how many peaks the god dragged from the Queen and her mind settles that by the state of this bed it was definitely on the higher end of their guesses.
Sera gently slapped her cheeks to cool the heat gathering there and gave her head a rapid shake.
Her awe at the Queen seemingly leaving this bed with merely a few love bites and a little stiffness of gait was a wonder.
Sera gathered the least soiled blanket and used it to bundle the rest into it. After a quick dash back to vanity she gathered the used drying towels too and stuffed them within. Tying the corners of the blanket into a knot she created a parcel to carry.. Better to reduce how much curious eyes could see as much as possible.
She set the bundle by the door and returned to retrieve the wooden bed key to crank the rope base of the bed. The crossed ropes that formed the base of the bed strung between the frame were sagging slightly.
It took muscle and a surprising number of turns to return the bed's base ropes to full tension. Then again, they obviously got a good workout this morn.
Sera retrieved fresh bedding and made up the bed.
Her eyes glanced around the open windows and her nose wrinkled as the musky scent still lingered.
With nothing else for it Sera retrieved a rarely used incense burner from the bottom of the wardrobe. It was a clunky iron thing, an iron plate bottom and a perforated dome top with crudely engraved trees.
Sera pulled the small satchel of dried plants to burn which were tied in small bundles. She selected a large bundle of dried pine needles and ladies bedstraw. Tearing them slightly and mixing them she pushed them into the indent in the base plate before lifting a candle and lighting it at the waning fire. She would have to re-stock it again.
Using the now lit candle Sera set the small bundle of dried pine needles and ladies bedstraw aflame. She blew softly to kill the flame and reduce it to smoldering embers which released curling smoke.
Placing the dome top on the plate Sera waited a few moments to see very faint smoke escaping the perforations in the dome. The scent of pine and sweet notes of ladies bedstraw were soon filling the room.
Sera ensured the burner was safely set up on the table before she extinguished the candle and proceeded to gather the bundle of bedsheets.
Exiting to the Solar, Sera saw the remains of the Queen's morning meal. The jug of honey, clove and lemon was all but gone and the porridge and berries had been consumed. The Queen was nowhere to be seen, indicating she had departed to get her day underway.
Sera added the used wet wash clothes from the tub to her bundle of laundry.
She heaved the full bundle up as she decided she would drop off the laundry and come back for the tray, to empty and tidy away the tub and to give the rooms a more thorough clean.
Winterfell seemed abuzz as she walked with purpose through the hallways.
More than one servant and guard gave her bundle of fine bedding a curious glance or worse, a knowing smirk.
Nosey arses.
Sera was soon entering the laundry rooms. The twins Eda and Edla were scrubbing sheets, elbow deep in a huge wooden tub. Their arms were red from the steaming water.
Sera could see the Queen's gown from yesterday already hanging on a rack, having been given priority to be washed.
A half dozen other servants worked a mangle, scrubbed fine clothes of nobles or brushed down dresses.
Sera did not recognise them all.
The realization that she carried the Queen's bedsheets, with the evidence of her…enthusiastic duties with the god suddenly dawned on her.
Sera suddenly had the horrifying mental image of some of the nosey servants inspecting the Queen's bed sheets and elevating the gossip to new heights.
As she entered the room more than one curious eye zeroed in on her and her bundle of bed sheets.
The gleam of dark curiosity lit on more than one face. All that kept Sera from fleeing was that such faces were outnumbered by many more who nodded to her respectfully and who offered small smiles. Her duties were well known in Winterfell and what she carried could not be hidden.
Eda and Edla looked up as she approached and while their eyes did not narrow in gossipy avarice at the sight of the sheets, the eyes of two of the servants at a large tub across from them did..
Sera felt heat and anger burn in her gut.
She could already imagine some of these servants meeting in the stables where the gossips had started gathering to exchange salacious rumors, all being held to court by Aedra. The gossip in Winterfell was bad enough without adding fuel to the flame.
Sera quickened her step and instead of setting the bundle of bed linens alongside the pile of other things waiting to be washed, she pulled on the knot and rudely dumped all the sheets into the searing water of the large wooden tub that Eda and Edla were working in. The twins subtly pulled back to let Sera dump her load in.
She forced the sheets deep into the water, ignoring the sudden shock of pain from the hot water.
There. The sheets were drenched now and any evidence of the Queen's duties and her pleasure was diluted in the steaming water and soap.
Some of the servants frowned at her. Their faces rictuses of displeasure. Most, like Eda and Edla smiled conspiratorially and gave fractional nods of respect and understanding.
Allies in saving the Queen's blushes…for all that it was a fruitless task.
Sera huffed and smiled sweetly, "The Queen's sheets. I trust you will see to them."
Before the twins could respond she spun on her heel and headed back to the Queen's chambers to finish cleaning.
She would not be indulging in the gossip that was sure to be racing through Winterfell. Every Lord, Lady, servant and guard already seemed to be gossiping aplenty without her involvement. Whether malicious or borne from cheerful support, Sera found the gossiping distasteful.
Sera resigned herself to keeping her head down and retiring home to Wintertown at her first opportunity to be away from overly curious eyes.
If she had to deal with someone like Aedra trying to ferret gossip from her or hear her speaking scandalously of the Queen she may lose her composure and strike the foolish girl.
Loras straightened as the Queen's chamber door opened behind him and the Queen herself strode out.
She was well put together for a woman who had evidently been extremely busy for half the morning already.
She was immaculately dressed in an austere gown and leather girdle. Her face the usual cold court mask that spoke of regal power and absolute control of all she surveyed. A Queen worth serving. A Queen it was an actual honor to serve.
Yet, Loras can't help how his eyes darted to the dark circles under her eyes and then to the hint of a love bite peeking out from the edge of her high collar. They were so incongruent with the Queen's usual demeanor and perfect countenance that they may as well have been lit torches for how they drew the eye.
Loras bit the inside of his cheek to prevent an undignified laugh from leaving his lips. He was unsure if it was a laugh of real amusement or hysteric fear and awe at the reality of his situation which was trying to bubble up his throat. He serves a Queen who beds a god of destruction…what even is his life anymore? How is this Queen before him real? Razor sharp and unafraid even of a god…she is the pride of the North. With honor and love she has won the god's loyalty for the North beyond question.
"Good Morning your Grace." Loras intoned solemnly.
Sansa strode past him without pause and he fell into step with her even as she replied "Good morn Ser Loras."
Her voice was nought but a hoarse whisper and yet she spoke as though there was nothing unusual about it.
Loras bit harder on his cheek. He followed her fast steps which, despite her best efforts, could not hide the stiffness of her gait.
A busy morning indeed for the Queen.
Though, Loras had known that already. Between the blushing but oddly proud reports of the night guards, having heard the usually controlled Queen's muffled cries of pleasure through the walls himself and then seeing the stunningly proud god depart her chambers this morning sporting bites and scratches across her neck and collarbones like they were badges of honor, there was no doubt what the Queen had spent the hours from dawn until mid morning doing. And enjoying it. Even to Ser Loras who thought himself rather radical and unconventional it was a little shocking. The god's artfully messy gambeson when she left the Queen's chambers this morn had been left loose as though on purpose to show off her lover's marks.
Loras breathed steadily through his nose and tried desperately to sound as stoic as the Queen appeared. "The small council awaits having attended to their duties individually this morn, your Grace. They plan to convene later this afternoon to discuss some matters and to discuss some proposals for your perusal if it should please you?"
The Queen nodded seriously, "Very good, I will spend the morn with the ladies sewing and attend to the council after the midday meal then. It should allow them ample time to be properly prepared for our meeting." Her stride did not falter as she headed for the solar the ladies were using for their sewing one floor below. The stairs made the Queen's stiffness a little more noticeable but she did not complain or show any overt signs of her discomfort.
As they passed through the halls, servant's curious gazes swung to the Queen even as they automatically bowed and offered respectful greetings. If some of those greetings were more energetic, edged with amusement or even more proud sounding this morning…well the Queen showed no sign of recognising it. Loras still found the love and pride that the Northerners had for their monarch unfamiliar and strange, it was all so different from King's Landing. Here, the people genuinely loved their Queen while still holding a reverent respect. Their inflated chests of pride and the veritable smug celebratory air in the atmosphere at the news their Queen was so thoroughly bedding and winning favor of the god was…strange. He should be used to it. The Northerners were a strange, prideful and pigheaded bunch all around as far as he could see. As he walked behind the Queen he saw how the people reacted: breaths caught, eyes widened and furtive glances with twitching smiles were exchanged as everyone saw the Queen, and more importantly saw the signs of her long night attending the god.
Her appearance was proof to the lascivious rumors swirling through every hallway and room in Winterfell.
The Queen of the North conquered, and was conquered by a god.
The Queen did not flinch. She did not blush. Her queenly face was majestic, impassive and cold. She stared ahead as though this was any other morning, walking quickly but not hurriedly towards the solar.
The servants may as well not exist to the Queen for all the attention she paid their penetrating and sometimes judgemental gazes.
They passed two members of the Order who were retreating from a meeting room where Loras knew Lord Manderly was working. They must have been delivering some sort of report.
The religious nutcases offered the obligatory bows and greetings of "Your Grace" as Sansa passed but their faces seemed almost smug. Proud smiles pulled at their lips and knowing looks passed between them as they silently acknowledged the blatant evidence on the Queen's appearance of their god's passion and favor.
The Queen did not falter. She returned perfunctory greetings and passed them by. She made bedding a god seem mundane, a task she had seen to with the same aplomb that she did all her other duties. She bedded a god of destruction and then went to debate inheritance laws. After completing the legendary act of laying with the god she was now quietly carrying on with her day without batting an eyelid or uttering a word. She made her actions look uneventful. Quite the contrast to the sounds that were reported last eve which evidenced it being quite the event indeed.
Sansa breezed into the ladies solar with casual ease. Loras caught a glimpse of the surprised looks on the women's faces at the appearance of their Queen. It was unusual for her to join them at the sewing circle when she was often so busy. Especially on a morn when she had started her day so late already. Mira Lovewell's eyes were wide as she took in the Queen while Lady Dustoin barely restrained a smirk.
Loras fought his smirk as he took up position outside the door. The Queen perhaps thought she would get to spend the last two hours of the morn relaxing and sewing but had likely underestimate women's gossipy nature. Undoubtedly Lady Dustin was just chomping at the bit to make some comment about the Queen's obvious hickey.
After two hours the Queen left the sewing circle. A high flush on her cheeks. Loras could hear the chuckles and tittering laughter of the other women and knew at once exactly what the topic of conversation had been.
The Queen retreated to her chambers for a quiet lunch, likely hoping to avoid her sister's teasing for another while yet and to evade the more penetrating and knowing looks of servants, and Lord's alike. The Queen had grasped that it seemed all of Winterfell knew of her morning duties, and the rather blatant mark on her throat was just the proof the gossips needed to stoke them to new fervor.
The fact the Queen was yawning and likely needed some time to rest probably prompted her to lunch alone in her chambers too.
Loras felt a mite of sympathy for the Queen. She had a council meeting to attend and then the evening meal in the hall where she would be under the eyes of all her people's scrutiny. Even Loras cringed at the likely teasing and interrogation the Queen would have to endure later from Princess Arya and the oddly blunt Prince Rickon this evening when they spent time together. If he was the Queen, he would be avoiding them all too with how gossip was buzzing in Winterfell.
Alas, the Queen must do her duty and so at the appointed time she strode from her chambers with the same cold mask. Ignoring all the smug, proud and curious looks of servants and nobles alike as she journeyed to the Council meeting.
When Sansa entered the Solar the small council rose respectfully. Every eye in the room was glued to her however like she was some mythical creature that had pranced unexpectedly into the small council chamber, both beautiful and impossibly deadly.
"Your Grace," they echoed as one, ducking their heads.
Sansa glided to the head of the table, power and confidence in every inch of her bearing, "Good afternoon my Lords, Lady Dustin. My apologies for having this meeting moved to this afternoon. Shall we get down to business."
No explanation for why the meeting was moved, no simpering or blushes. She ruled here and they existed at her pleasure. She was their Queen and she was glorious. The proud idiot Lords accepted her dismissive greetings as their due, restrained smiles and glittering eyes adoringly watching their terrifying Queen.
Lady Dustin smiled at the balls on the girl, "Certainly Your Grace. I trust you had a ….productive morn, although it seems you have caught a cold mayhap? Should we fetch the Maester?"
Sansa narrowed her eyes at the woman's daring, especially considering the topic of conversation in the sewing circle that morning. Sansa assessed Lady Dustin and how the Lords all seemed to lean forward in anticipation of her reply. A tense, breathless anticipation hung in the air.
Sansa seemed to relax infinitesimally, as though she had decided Lady Dustin's coy and brazen comment indirectly addressing her morning activities was the least she could have expected from the woman. It would have been more odd, and perhaps concerning, if the sharp tongued old battle axe had simpered and said nothing. Ser Loras was genuinely beginning to think Lady Dustin showed affection by arguing with people and making cutting comments…somewhat like his Grandmother.
Sansa waved her hand absently as though brushing aside an inconsequential matter, "Indeed. I had a…rejuvenating morning with stimulating company." Air caught in someone's throat at the Queen's double meaning and innuendo. It was a smart comment, possibly alluding to her duties with the god or to her leisurely morning sewing. "As for my voice, a common cold or sore throat I am sure, nothing tea and time cannot fix. I am sure it will be gone by tomorrow. What is on the agenda?"
And just like that the Queen absently and with a straight face dismissed all the unspoken insinuations despite her voice being broken from passion as though it was nothing. Her face did not twitch as she stared down Lady Dustin and her Lords. Lady Dustin nodded in quiet respect, her eyes smiling even if her lips remained a tight line as though she was oddly proud of the Queen so neatly dismissing the matter.
The Lords exchanged quiet looks but proceeded to begin debating laws about wheat production and quotas on cash crops. If their eyes danced to Sansa's neck, the black circles beneath her eyes and they suppressed the odd curled lip, no one commented.
Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her seat from time to time, and called for tea from a servant barely an hour into the meeting. Everyone could see she had fought off two yawns and was not her usual razor sharpness as they debated the matters of court. By some unspoken agreement the Lords all seemed to get on better that day as they tried to make the afternoon session easier for their Queen.
Afterall, they knew the duty of pleasing a god was not an easy one, and the Queen had obviously been doing it thoroughly, for many hours and with the dedication expected of a stout Northern woman.
The great hall was emptied after lunch, the servants had taken what remained and small parcels of leftovers as well as a few loaves of bread were being delivered to the various working parts of Winterfell where men and women preferred to not leave their work areas or wanted to eat their midday meal away from the formality and crowds of the great hall. Since the fall of the Boltons, the return of regular meals, although basic and rationed, was considered a great boon by many of the servants of Winterfell. In particular a number of stable boys and some of the young Smith apprentices had taken to having their afternoon meals outside behind the stables or forges. The chance to breathe some fresh air away from the scents of animals, smokey fires, sweating bodies…and perhaps the opportunity to speak with some of the young female servants who would from time to time join them or pass by…well those were just coincidental benefits
Tobin, an assistant to Cook, passed around some coarse barley bread to those leaning against the low wall. A pewter plate with some leftover meat juice from rabbit stew which had been served to the nobles and enough beans for everyone to take a small helping, rests on the wall.
The various servants thanked Tobin.
"Ta" smiled Gerty, a cupbearer and servant of the main keep.
"Gramercy" a mild mannered servant named Marta offered with a bright smile.
" 'hanks," a shoddily dressed stable boy who everyone called Jax, but for his very stern mother who worked as a scullery maid in the Kitchens and insisted on calling him Jaxonald.
"Gud job" Irwin the soot covered Smith's apprentice murmured as he snatched the bread and took a mighty bite from it without pause.
Quiet descended for the first few moments as they ate, taking turns to dip their bread in the meat juices and scoop up a small share of beans.
Marta wiped a small drip of meat juice from her lip, a small smile pulling across her face as her eyes darted in anticipation between her companions, "Sooo….are we going to discuss it then?"
The group cast eyes back and forth, the silence stretched a moment before Irwin rolled his eyes, "I'm jus' glad d'god is back and wasn' wooed by the southern fucks. Fancy our chances better 'gainst the dead fucks wit' her here."
Gerty nibbling on a knotted piece of bread snorted, "N'chance a tha'. Soft southern fucks proly shit themselves when they saw Her Holiness. Who've they got could woo 'er? Queen a thorns as old harridan of a snoutbound, the lame wandought of Lord Tyrell? Shit, even the mumblecrust mad dragon nuthin to our Queen. So she convinced some dothraki horse shaggers to get on a boat and killed some slave master scobberlotchers…nuthing to our Queen."
Irwin scratched his chin in consideration and smiled revealing a missing front tooth, "True 'nough. Her Grace wiped out three whole houses an' lopped heads by her own hand without puttin' a hair outta place. Haven't had a Queen so ruthless and successful since Torrhen. Can't see anyone else a god of destruction would be interested in now tha' I think about it." And damned if the whole group didn't nod along, small curls to their lips and proud tilts to their heads.
Greta smirked, " Aye, don't hurt none neither tha' her majesty one the fineste winter roses ever grown a Stark blood. God seems to agree, what with how Her Grace luked like the god had been gnawing on her throat, even wit her high collar dress ya could see it. An I 'eard some of d'Order men talkin' bout their god struttin' back ter tower like a fox that raided the chickens coop wit' scratches and bites all over 'er."
The group smiled and nervous chuckles passed between more than one set of lips, faint redness climbing up their necks and cheeks.
Marta blushed softly, her eyes jumping between the different speakers and those chuckling, "But 'er Grace looked her usual self in the halls…a mite tired but she was well. If'n it wasn't fer the love bite and the gossipin' night guards 'nd servants below the family wing no-one would have known…I didn't think she could be so …brazen, she seems so cold sometimes."
Jax smiled crookedly, "Humph, the southern shites and Boltons all learned how the roses prettiness hides the thorns. If what some o'the servants who were stocking fire in the family wing this morn say is true, then the god has skills more than just destroyin' and fightin' if ya get m'meanin'. No wunder the Queen woulda luked tired."
Gerty cackled and slapped young Jax on the back in camaraderie, "With how broken Her Grace's voice was from screamin' 'er peaks? There no doubt a that. Might be worth riskin' beddin a god fer a taste o' that pleasure."
Irwin grimaced, "Fuck no ! I've seen 'er Holiness throwin' the Order round like ragdolls, an had t'mend some o'the practice swords she used to split the straw dummies. Things aren't made fer doin' that. The strength and power to make the damn blunt things cut like Valeryian steel…bends the iron…nah, I reckon our Queen has balls o'steel gettin' in bed wit a god a'destruction. Don't know how she does it."
Gerty rolled her eyes at the awe in Irwin's voice, "With great enthusiasm it seems. Not tha' ya can tell rightly as Marta says. Cuttin' off heads, talkin' like the Long Night as good as won as she plans food stores for after it, then beddin' a fuckin' god…but still lukin like the great Lady stridin' through the halls who just came from some frivolous sewin' after beddin a god. Plannin a war council meetin' fer d'evenin…sure why not? Even her snotty mother couldna faulted her manner or character. Like it all nuthin' to her, like she born to it. Northern ice in her veins I swear it."
Tobin nodded, a paleness to his cheeks, "She's cut like Starks of old, a real Winter Queen, what else would she be. Shit, enemies all around but she still managed to beat everyones heads together so we stopped fighten' ourselves and expanded our lands greater than any Winter King ever did centuries ago. Whatever she does, fuckin' the god, treatin' with the dragon bitch or orderin' us ta dig ditches till the whole land turned up…at least we'll survive. Her Grace'd not accept nuthin' else." His chest puffed a little in pride at the pronouncement.
"Aye," Jax said with a sharp nod, suddenly serious, "Her Grace has won the affection of the greatest ally we could hope for with the Long Night here. It migh' not be what people are used to fer royalty but tis a good match. I jus' wish she were named official mistress already, it's not right otherwise, our Queen bein' treated lak a wench. Even if by'n a god…."
Gerty's head bobbled side to side and she stuffed the last of the beans into her mouth, sucking her fingers and talking around a full mouth, "Bah, it'll happen soon 'nough. Nothin' the Queen hasn't been able to get yet when she put her mind to it. Sharp as the wolf's fang that one, and she the only match for the god, a ruthless Queen for a god a'ruin. Like somethin' out legends or myths or some shit.."
Irwin finished his bread and stretched, "Title or no, Her Grace'll do what she has ta, and in the mean time, if she has some fun along the way…well, after the shite she had to put up with that Ramsey cunt, may the maggots shit him out twice over, she deserves some divine swivin'."
Tobin, red of cheek looked a bit scandalized but he nodded in agreement as he lifted the now mopped clean pewter plate that had held the meat juices, "If nuthin' else, the god got the mad dragon Queen to recognise us as independent so that's one less fight and maybe some help with the dead. Whatever the Queen does with the god its worth it fer that."
Tobin stood, getting ready to head back to the kitchen and Marta rose alongside him.
Even through her blush Marta nodded, "Aye, let nobles do what nobles do and we'll do what we do. It's all there is for it. With her Grace leadin' us, well, I say we have a better chance than ever afore."
The assembled group nodded in agreement, all making moves now to head back to their jobs.
Gerty wiped her hands on her apron, "Aye leave the rulin' and the god pleasin' to the Queen. She's right good at it anyway."
The group laughed on that parting comment as they split off and headed back to their duties.
Tobin couldn't help but think how true Gerty's words were. It had to be a hard job pleasing a god for hours at a time, but someone had to do it…and well, their ruthless Queen seems to do it with such gusto.
