As he walked toward the Queen's bed, occupied by the Queen herself, he didn't have to fake any of his hesitation or excitement. Just sharing the room with an exceedingly beautiful half-naked woman was exciting, even more beautiful than the select beauties that Littlefinger had collected all over the world — a comparison he would never make out loud.
Then, there was the fact that she was not a whore. It wasn't that he disliked them. No, he was very fond of them, but spending time with them was safe, controlled, and sterile. Almost like sparring.
What awaited him was like a real battle … admittedly even more than any other situation. A mistake might cost him more than he expected. Not his head, as using Hydrokinesis, he already identified where the secret entrance to her room was, but everything else he had built.
He kept his face covered with a dazed fascination and devotion, aware that Cersei was watching him from his reflection, thinking herself to be subtle.
"May I use the basin to wash my hands, my Queen," he asked, which earned another subtle smirk.
"You may," she declared haughtily.
He went to the basin, and made a show of washing his hands and forearms carefully. He asked where the massage oils were, she pointed. But, as she did, she rose slightly, giving a fleeting glimpse of her breast, her smirk showing it was no accident.
Another point to Tyrion's judgment, he decided. When he called Cersei a whore, he had assumed he was exaggerating. Apparently, he was not.
He gave the appropriate reaction. An expression of fleeting awe, followed by dread and avoiding her look. Then, after taking an appropriate pause to recover, he warmed the oil between his hands. "May I start, my Queen."
"You may," she declared.
He started at the base of her neck, slowly caressing while he identified various knots … and suddenly, he was glad that he had practiced his latest skill extensively with three girls. Cersei was not exaggerating when she said she needed a massage. Her muscles were knotted and tense, the stress of situation getting to her.
Absence of the brother she liked—maybe a bit too much—, the presence of his controlling father, her fights with Tyrion, her hopeless battle against political Tyrell encroachment… She had a lot to be stressed.
He focused on her shoulders first. Cersei gasped, followed by a soft exhale, her body losing some of the tension.
"You were not lying," she murmured into the pillow. "You are really good at massaging. Continue."
He worked downward, thumbs tracing the elegant line of her spine, the shine making her soft skin even more alluring. Her shoulders tensed when Rohar's hands moved with deliberate reverence, adding just a little firmness, but soon, relaxed once more.
Every stroke was a question and an answer.
He put his full focus on her back even as her breathing slowed, slowly getting rid of every kink. He could continue a little more, and she would fall into a comfortable sleep. It was the smart choice. The safe choice.
Rohar decided to go a different direction. His touches transformed, turned more fleeting caresses as he started to lean his other relevant skill. Not immediately, not in a hurry. Bit by bit, so that Cersei couldn't point out where her body stopped relaxing, and started tensing once more.
Just in a different, more pleasant way than her earlier state. Back and forth, he moved, slowly fueling her desire until his finger slipped just beneath her dress gathered at her waist, then pulled back. Then, he paused.
Already close to the edge enough to ignore some of the details of their situation, Cersei growled. "Why did you stop?"
"The oil will ruin the fabric, My Queen," he said. "So, without your permission, I don't dare to move."
A trick to remind her that she was the one in control, and he was a poor little harmless masseuse.
"Good point," she said with a smirk as she raised her hips, and pushed her dress back, leaving her naked body. Her ass rose slightly, her smugness increasing as she felt like she was the one controlling the room. "Now, there's no fabric to ruin. Continue."
"A-as you wish, my Queen," he said, but he made sure to sound halfway between a horny man, and a religious fanatic that had received a sign from the gods. With her overconfidence, she would never question it. "Just tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable."
His oil-covered hands slipped lower, dancing over the twin dimples of her ass, but he bypassed her ass, instead moving lower to massage her thighs, going lower. But, his touch had already transformed. When he reached to her feet, she was wiggling with pleasure, her legs opening too wide to be accident.
He climbed higher again, then his hands landed on her soft, perfect ass, kneading them with slow, circling pressure. Cersei's hips shifted once more, her gleaming core for him to take.
"Turn over, my beautiful Queen," he whispered. A dangerous escalation, but Cersei was far too gone to pay attention that. She obeyed. Despite her confidence, she wasn't used to pleasure, not the kind he could provide.
Green eyes met his, glittering with challenge and something hungrier despite being half-lidded.
Rohar poured fresh oil across her collarbones and began again. His hands glided over the swell of her breasts, thumbs brushing the hardened tips in passing, never lingering enough to topple her over. Cersei's lips parted. He worked her shoulders, her arms, then returned to her chest, this time cupping the full weight of her, rolling the nipples between oiled fingers until she arched.
"Lower," she ordered, voice husky.
He obeyed. Palms slid down her ribs, over the soft curve of her belly, to the apex of her thighs. He poured oil on her inner thighs, watching it glisten. Then he began the most intimate massage of all, slow circles around her clit, two fingers stroking the slick folds, never quite entering. Cersei's thighs fell open wider.
Her breathing turned ragged.
This time, he didn't ask for permission. He pushed one finger inside her, then two, curling them against the spot that made her hips buckle while she moaned. His thumb never left its spot, stroking in perfect rhythm. Cersei's hand shot out, gripping his wrist.
"Do you want me to stop, my Queen," he whispered, once again his desire genuine, but the devotion and admiration he added certainly was.
"More," she demanded.
Rohar added a third finger, stretching her, while his free hand returned to her breast, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her cry out. Her back arched. Her free hand clawed at the cushions. He kept the pace merciless, precise, every motion calculated to drag her higher. Yet, he didn't let her cum.
When she was trembling on the edge, he slowed, drawing a frustrated whine from her throat.
"Do you want me to do more, my Queen?" he whispered, feeling the excitement. Reckless, certainly, but the temptation was impossible to reject.
"Yes," she replied, saying nothing even when he pushed down his pants, revealed his cock, and positioned himself right against her entrance. She said nothing as he slid inside, invading her core, her body clinging to his tightly.
He pushed as her face contorted with desire, awakening a different desire to him. A desire to dominate.
It was not something he had felt with his … working friends, always treating as a spar, more about a competition of skill. Yet, seeing the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms on her bed, her annoyance melting into desire awakened something in his heart.
A true desire to dominate.
He pulled out, but until he could flip her, taking her from behind. He pushed inside, her moans rising with each invasion, her entrance reshaping around him. He barely held back a desire to spank her, and only because, he was willing to bet that it wouldn't be the last time he met with her.
Instead, he tightened his grip around her hair, pulling her back, and kissed her. Her eyes widened in shock, as if she didn't know what was happening. But, her tongue still responded, putting a battle for domination … one that she surrendered quickly enough.
He didn't let her change positions, taking her from behind with an aggression she was clearly unprepared for, at least when combined with proper pleasure. He took her like their rules were reversed, like she was a whore, and he was the king.
Climax hit her when he twisted her nipple, the accumulated pleasure getting too much. "Harder," she snarled, as if she was trying to convince that she was still in control.
That was the last attempt.
Rohar gripped her waist and thrust up to meet her, the slap of flesh echoing in the solar. He had no problem with the stamina, and he put that to use, drilling her with a merciless drill that would have been too aggressive earlier, but with her body lost in pleasure, it was exactly what she needed.
A long, hard fuck that he did his best to rewrite the meaning of pleasure for her.
She couldn't order his execution if she was aching for a repeat. He flipped her only when she had another climax, letting her breasts dance with each push while he invaded her, deep and relentless.
There was only one problem with the current position, that she could see his face. A smug smile was a dangerous expression to wear, not at the moment, but Cersei was famous for her vindictiveness.
He changed his expression somewhat, hoping that it would come across as somewhere between worshipful and in love. It didn't even had to be good, as he had a feeling Cersei had no problem believing anyone would fall in love with her.
To her defense, the only thing that prevented that was her famously unpleasant personality.
"My queen. My beautiful, amazing queen. You're the definition of beauty," he muttered, not paying much attention to his words while he treated her body worse than he treated any of the whores he did.
Yet, her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper.
"Worship me, you low born street trash," she gasped. He drilled her hard and merciless, not bothered when she called her worship. She could call whatever she wanted while he fucked her harder and harder. He kept pounding until her walls fluttered a third time, then buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside her with a guttural growl.
[Feat Achieved! Defile a queen regent
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
[Feat Achieved! Fuck Cersei
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
[Feat Achieved! Sticking to the crazy
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
It took all the will he could gather when he realized the System gave same reward for fucking Cersei and meeting with her, not to mention the explicit reference about crazy. That felt like a joke, but not an ungrounded one.
He couldn't help but admire the Queen. Somehow, she managed to annoy a divine entity.
He could have gone for long, but it was another thing he was afraid Cersei taking personally. Instead, he collapsed to her side, acting like he had pushed himself so hard that he almost collapsed, while letting her slowly recover.
Meanwhile, he was trying to see what would be her decision would be, letting him leave, asking for a repeat for the future, or ordering for his execution. Considering the joking warning from the last achievement, he suspected the last one was still an option.
"You will come when I summon you," she said. "And you will speak of this to no one. Not Tyrion. Not the whores. No one. Brag once, and I'll have you executed."
"As you command, my Queen. Ask me to die, and I'll die," he said. The devotion was particularly easy to fake with his body still tingly with pleasure.
Despite everything, or maybe thanks to them, it had been single most experience of his life.
She smiled, small and dangerous. "Good boy. Now, put yourself together, and fuck off."
She rose to pour herself a wine, then walked to the bath, ignoring him. Another attempt to act like she had any hint of control during the act, belied by her desperately trembling legs.
"Should I punch myself a few times, my Queen," he suggested. "That way, they will assume you have summoned me to interrogate me about your brother."
"Good thinking, do it," she said.
He did that. Honestly, he had absolutely no belief that their physical relationship would stay a secret, but at least making it look like they were trying would help.
He made the necessary moves, fixed his clothing, then went to the door. The guards looked at him a mixture of disgust and envy, suggesting that he was not the first lover Cersei had taken.
It wasn't a surprise.
"Have a nice shift," he said to the guard as he collected his weapons, and left. He directly went to Tyrion, though on the way, he wore a different face. Smug, but one that was trying to hide it under fake frustration.
He deliberately acted badly, because he had no belief that, even if he acted perfectly, Cersei could keep it a secret.
When he reached Tyrion's office, he found Tyrion, Bronn, and Podrick around a table, tense and discussing, a mood that shifted significantly. Podrick looked relieved, Bronn was silent and evaluating, ready to kill him or pour him a drink as needed, while Tyrion was still panicking, likely afraid for Shae.
Rohar smirked as he grabbed half empty wine bottle, took a deep sip, then looked at Tyrion. "I'll tell you something if you promise not to get me executed," he said.
Tyrion tensed even more. "As long as there's no harm to anyone…" he said tightly.
Rohar smirked even widely. "Your sister is wasted as the Queen. The Seven Kingdom simply has lost its greatest whore."
Just like that, Tyrion's expression turned to shock, before he exploded with endless laughter, his relief turning into hysteria. Bronn smirked, while Podrick gaped at him.
"Really, boy?" Bronn said. "You fucked her. Didn't anyone teach you about not fucking the crazy?"
He shrugged. "Well, I need to distract her from some uncomfortable questions about my employer," he said, and when Tyrion's eyes widened slightly, he nodded. "Luckily, she was far more willing to believe I'm merely a poor boy that doesn't know anything after I … put her in a better mood."
Tyrion couldn't help but smirk. "Well, that would do. Maybe she wouldn't have been such a bitch if Robert fucked her properly once in a while.'
Bronn snorted. "I would call bullshit, but I have seen seasoned whores fighting to decide who gets to share your bed, so…"
"Exactly," Rohar said. Then, realizing the opportunity, he looked at Tyrion. "Too bad it means I'll have to leave soon."
"What do you mean?" Tyrion asked, suddenly tense and protective, making him glad that he had no intention of screwing him. His family was a different issue, but Tyrion didn't really care about it in any case. "Did she threaten you?"
"No, but from everything you talked, it's clear that she's impulsive. What do you think she would do when Littlefinger decides to needle her about fucking a commoner."
Tyrion winced as the realization hit. "Ah, nothing good. I might try to protect you but…"
"Once your lovely father hears it, he'll have his opinion as well," he completed.
Tyrion nodded with a rare solemnity. "Should I arrange your escape? We can get a ship to take you away."
Rohar sighed. "Appreciate it, but immediately running is more dangerous. It's safer if I just disappear in a random day. Still, I appreciate your candor. I owe you a big one for it."
Tyrion waved it off. "It's only what I should do as your employer. The only reason you're in this mess is because you work for me."
Rohar could have argued, but he picked a simpler path. "How about I owe you one as a friend, then," he said as he raised his hand toward Tyrion, and shook his hand.
Tyrion had a genuine smile on his face without any mocking edge, a rare expression despite his usual kindness. "I never turn down a friend," he replied.
Rohar appreciated the intent. He turned to nod at Bronn and Podrick, conveying that he would do the same for them as well. He knew his relationship with Bronn was more transactional than emotional, but it didn't change the fact that his help was instrumental. And, Podrick was just too nice not to like.
"To friendship," he said as he raised his bottle, and they drank. Rohar stayed more than his usual, aware that it might be the last time they could drink like that. But, he drank carefully, in moderation. He had too many secrets to risk them.
He assisted a stumbling Podrick to his room, then focused on the last climax of the night.
Four bronze tickets.
Before pulling them, he once again sat down and prayed, then he started pulling them.
[Sweat]
{Trash Ability: Allows you to sweat on command, either stopping sweating or sweating to supernatural levels to cool your body down.}
"Well, that's useful…" he muttered, wondering why if it was even an option. Especially since it meant he had to stop using his Hydrokinesis to start using it.
[Goblin]
{Common Familiar: Loathsome little green humanoid creatures the size of children, they are very vicious and cruel in nature, being able to use weapons and basic tactics. At least this goblin is smarter and more self-aware, they can also breed with any humanoid race. The default gender is female.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, item deliveries are temporarily canceled. We apologize for the inconvenience.}
"I take it back, sweat is an amazing ability," he said, yet instead of feeling pained as he lost a ticket, he just shrugged. Not all of them could be winners. More importantly, as it got easier to earn them, losing a few of them didn't make him ache with a deep loss.
As for failed familiar delivery aspect, he didn't have too much of opinion, especially since the description wasn't exactly filling him with regret. It might have been useful in certain circumstances, but that was it.
He pulled the next one.
[Alluring Whisper]
{Uncommon Trait: You have a smooth, buttery and attractive voice that belongs to a top-tier singer, in addition, your voice can impress even the most picky hardasses and used to sound more convincing. Enhances your voice-based abilities.}
"Much better," he said, feeling his voice transform. It wasn't that he was unrecognizable. He could sound exactly the same, but he could also drop it much lower. Singing wasn't exactly his biggest priority, but using it in bedroom…
Much better indeed.
[Intermediate Stealth]
{Uncommon Skill: You are experienced in the way of stealth, you know how to move silently, how to sneak up on people, how to check for traps, and how to gather information more effectively. You would be a qualified ninja grunt.}
"And, here's the true reward," he muttered as he read description. Perfect. He could already sneak around, but he was also aware that it was more with his raw agility rather than the skilled movement of a seasoned expert.
It was very valuable, especially with what was about to come soon.
And, what better way to celebrate his skill than to test it. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Kharchos, GoodOldChap, aokway and 618 othersJesse_DesireMonday at 2:56 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 15 New View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Tuesday at 3:23 AMNewAdd bookmark#460He didn't move out immediately no matter how much he wished. He first took a nap, letting the remaining alcohol to dissipate, then he closed his eyes and pulled a few different movements related to hiding, trying to get a handle of the exact benefits.
For one, the way he walked slowly transferred. Thanks to his agility, he was able to walk with ease, but the moment the skill started to settle, he felt a difference. He was able to maintain his silent steps by tightly controlling his muscles.
He still did that, but there was a fluidity to his movement that had been absent before, almost like a gentle wind, his footsteps not even creating a whisper. It was an unsettling feeling.
But, there was only so much he could practice. Instead, he went out for a late night walk, immediately noticing almost fifteen servants that had been casually working around his rooms, some washing the floors, the others fixing small issues.
It looked like his visit to the queen suddenly made him a person of interest. However, in a way, he appreciated their presence. It helped him to test his newest skill properly. He could get a sense of how to activate and improve the skill, as unlike spear fighting and some other skills, he had spent most of his childhood hiding, already proficient.
But, the skill was still useful, allowing him to understand his deficiencies and upgrade his general performance. Stealth wasn't just about moving silently, or trying to blend into a crowd. It was also about constant awareness, understanding where the people were paying attention, how to distract them.
Fifteen servants spying on him, on various skills, helped him to test them. Not to escape their attention, as he wasn't ready for the attention avoiding them successfully would bring.
Instead, he turned into a game. He identified two or three of them, moving in a pace that implied himself to be drunk, only to change direction when their attention wandered, and watch them panic while they tried to find him again.
More importantly, the ability to check for traps as the skill mentioned was working overtime, allowing him to catch the signs of secret hiding spots and other points, some he hadn't detected with his Hydrokinesis, though mostly because he didn't explore every inch of every corridor.
Having an option that didn't require him to stand near the walls and slowly explore was welcome.
He visited the kitchen, got some food, and returned; but with a little extra gift. He managed swipe a set of discarded clothes for kitchen workers, stuffing them into his clothes.
Then, he returned to his room, and finally switched practicing his spear style, slowly polishing his style. The bonus from the Adept skill made it far better. He had to interrupt his training a few times, when some of the spies used the hidden holes to check him, but those were rare.
But, dealing with many parties meant that, there was no late night visits for him.
Luckily, late night was not the only option. Spies dwindled when dawn started to get near. He put a few pillows to make it look like he was still in his bed, changed to the servant clothes, and once there was no watchers around his room, he left.
Stealth allowed him to duck and avoid the remaining occasional servants, and soon, he was at the entrance for the secret tunnels. Tunnels that he moved through rapidly until he reached Sansa's room, and opened it silently.
A quick check confirmed that Shae was absent once more, likely with Tyrion, while Sansa was in her bed, sleeping.
He sighed, once again alerting her to his presence by pressing his hand to her mouth. Her eyes jolted open in panic, her cry muffled by his touch. "My apologies, Lady Sansa," he said, letting his voice to turn soft and nonthreatening, putting his latest trait to a good use. "But, I only managed to get away from the spies."
He pulled his hand back once she calmed down. "Spies?" she asked. "Is our plan—"
"Don't worry about it. No one is aware of our plan," he said. "They are paying attention to our deliberate distraction. But it makes it harder for me to come here."
She paused, trying to process the situation in her groggy state. "I understand," she finally muttered.
"Did you heard the news?" he asked.
"That bas— I mean, Meryn Trent is dead," she said, trying to hide her happiness at the news … and failing spectacularly.
"Just as promised," he said. "Do you have any updates to your end."
"I kept my mouth as promised. And, I also asked Margery about Lord Baelish, and her words are … pretty much the same."
She seemed unsettled at the situation. He reached and patted her shoulder gently, and spoke in a softer, rambling tone. "Sansa. You are locked here, away from anyone you can trust, with no source of information. Baelish is a man who made a career out of lies and betrayals. It's not your fault that you didn't catch it."
Was his words honest? Not exactly. Some of it was her fault that she failed to catch that deception, but clearly, the bigger fault lay with her family. What they were thinking, raising their oldest daughter with tales of noble knights and honorable nobles before sending her to King's Landing?
But, then, considering how Lord Stark ended, it was clear that he wasn't the most capable politician either. His style probably worked well in the North, especially when his best friend as the king —
Sansa, feeling vulnerable, hugged him tightly.
He sighed, focusing on Sansa as he patted her shoulder more, trying to ignore how thin her nightie was. One would think that, after the death of Trent, she would have expected his arrival, but clearly, she was not a long-term thinker. "There, there. Don't worry. Just a few weeks, and everything will be fine."
"A few weeks, that's it," she muttered. "I'm not sure whether I have a few weeks."
"What happened?" he asked.
"Tyrells," Sansa replied. "Loras and Margaery both mentioned a possible match between me and Loras, claiming that it might help Lannisters and my brother to make peace." Then, she paused, waiting for his opinion.
He sighed. "I don't know about politics to understand what's going on. Tyrells will certainly want you as a bride, particularly for Loras."
"What do you mean, he's a brave knight," Sansa said.
Rohar paused, realizing that Sansa had somehow missed one of the most popular gossips in the Keep. Not only about Loras playing for the same team, but also his relationship with Renly. "Because he was very good friends with Renly," he decided to say, not wanting to confuse her further by her prospective husband would have no interest in her. "It makes him a political liability." A good explanation as any, especially since it was correct.
He didn't know much about politics, but he had listened Tyrion rambling about various issues enough. He seemed pretty convinced that Tyrells would be politically isolated even if Margaery becomes Queen.
"I see," she said, looking disappointed. Understandable, as from a distance, Loras was the perfect husband for a young maiden, especially one that believed knights to be a holy organization. Loras was tall, handsome, kind, not to mention of the best warriors.
"Do you want to stay here?" he asked, trying to be understanding, But, she was still hugging him, and he wasn't nice enough to stop caressing her back, delivering a gentle massage to relax her.
As for whether she wanted to stay or go, he was willing to follow her direction. His relationship with Sansa wouldn't change whether she went to Highgarden or Winterfell. Comparatively, earning her trust was more important.
She was his only source for silver tickets; and he no evidence to believe it would be about her family.
"So," he said without even letting her go from his arms. "Do you have anything that you need my help for? I'm always happy to serve you."
He wouldn't say no to another ticket.
"Nothing that you need to risk your life for," she finally said after some thinking.
Her concern was beautiful, but misplaced. He wanted another task from her … but then, he also knew not any random task would do. There were some conditions, personal significance being one of them.
But then, he had another way to take tickets. Sansa was naive and sheltered, but also she was a beautiful, twenty years old young woman.
"Feel free to ask me anything you want. Your wishes, my command," he said, feeling her tighten the hug. "Before I leave, do you want me to give a message. It'll be good."
Her eyes widened at the recommendation, the panic reminding her that she was still hugging him. "That's not appropriate," she gasped.
"Don't worry, I don't have to do anything improper. I just need to touch your forearm, or your foot. Whatever you prefer."
"And, touching my foot will be enough to relax me," she asied.
"Yes," he promised. He didn't want to limit his touches, but he also didn't want to scare her. So, he slid back, she pushed her foot to his leg but not before using the blanket to cover her legs, limiting his enjoyment even more.
Luckily, he didn't need a lot of time to do what he had in mind. He pressed his thumb to her heel, then let his fingers dance. Merely a few minutes, and she was already biting her lips, her eyes widened in shock.
He didn't extend the treatment. Not because he couldn't convince Sansa for more, but he could see that, once he left, she would spiral. Not something he wanted considering the stakes.
But, he still finished his job, curious if it would give a ticket.
[Feat Achieved! Give Sansa her first real 'celebration'
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
It did, with a surprising little detail that showed she was even more naive than he realized. At that moment, he decided to help her even more. Otherwise, a sheltered youth, followed by marrying Loras Tyrell … it was not a fair fate for such a beautiful woman.
"I will take my leave, Lady Sansa," he said, acting unaware of her surprise at her reaction.
"T-this massage, is it normal?"
"Somewhat, but ask to your handmaiden so she can explain," he decided. "Just tell her that you were rubbing your thighs, and she won't question."
"I-if you say so," Sansa muttered in shock, and he left.
His return was not as tense as he feared. After he arrived, he activated the ticket after another long prayer.
[Impulse]
{Uncommon Ability: Allows you to quicken the electrical signals in your body, increasing your reflexes and speed proportionally. Overusing may cause nerve damage.}
"Excellent," he muttered, and then threw himself to his bed. Finally another useful ability. Too bad only one of them could stay active, and switching took several hours. Hydrokinesis was too useful at the moment … but impulse would be equally useful when he could anticipate a duel.
&&&
His encounter with Sansa had left him somewhat frustrated. Luckily, the solution was not too far away. He had been summoned for another meeting with the Queen, though this time, it was just a maid delivering the order stealtily.
Just not stealthily enough to be missed by the spies that seemed to appear around him in various frequencies. He followed it.
The guards let him in without even checking for weapons, but they looked unhappy about it, meaning it was Cersei's order. It was good news, but not because he needed his weapons inside.
It showed that Cersei trusted him.
She wore only a thin silk robe the color of fresh cream, loosely belted, her golden hair pinned high to keep it dry. The most important feature was the deep cleavage revealing her alluring breasts.
"You took your time," she said, not turning toward him fully. But the corner of her mouth curved.
"Forgive me, my Queen," he said, once again kneeling, the expression of worship easier to conjure looking at her cleavage. She might have a rotten personality, but her body was still divine.
"Disrobe. You will assist me for the bath."
Rohar shed his clothes without hesitation, folding them neatly on a low bench. The queen's gaze lingered on his chest, taking the view. Rohar had to admit, he started to look pretty good after the Healthy trait fixed a lifetime of issues, and his muscles continued to fill.
Then, her gaze dipped down to where his body was already responding to her presence. She smiled, slow and predatory.
"Into the water first. I want you clean before you touch me."
He used the basin to wash himself, but noticing Cersei's interested gaze, he did turn it into a show. Only when he was clean, he stepped into the water, which was a small pool at the attached bathroom. True decadence and luxury.
The heat enveloped him like a lover, water rising to his chest, the smell of oils relaxing him even further.
Cersei let the robe fall. For a moment she stood naked at the edge; perfect, pale, every inch a queen. Once he devoured the sight, she descended the marble steps until the water lapped at her hips. She turned her back to him.
"Begin with my hair."
Rohar poured warm water over her golden waves, then worked in the lavender soap with slow, firm circles. His fingers massaged her scalp, thumbs pressing the tension from her temples.
Then, he pulled her onto his lap, realizing she was relaxed enough that he could start taking control. She sighed again, leaning back to his chest. The contact sent a jolt through him; her skin was silk over steel.
His hands started to caress her body occasionally while he gently massaged her scalp.
"You are… thorough," she murmured.
He rinsed her hair, then moved to her shoulders, kneading the knots that royal paranoia had tied there. His hands slid lower, soaping the elegant line of her spine, the flare of her hips. When he reached the swell of her ass, he took his time, palms gliding over wet skin, thumbs tracing the cleft. Cersei's breath hitched.
"Turn around."
She obeyed, the fact she was supposed to be in control already forgotten. She was facing him now, water beading on her breasts. Her nipples were already begging for his touch. Rohar poured fresh soap into his palms and began at her throat, working downward. He cupped her breasts, thumbs circling the sensitive buds until she arched into his touch. A soft moan escaped her.
"Lower," she commanded, voice husky.
"As you wish, my Queen," he whispered, the rich rumble from his upgraded voice doing wonders.
His soapy hands slid over her belly, between her thighs. He washed her there with deliberate care, fingers parting slick folds, stroking the hidden pearl until her hips jerked. Cersei gripped his shoulders, nails digging in.
"Enough teasing," he said as he grabbed her hips, and impaled her hard.
She pulled him down into a fierce kiss, all teeth and hunger. Their bodies pressed together, wet and slippery, the water churning around them. Rohar's cock throbbedinside her core, invading her repeatedly to make her groan into his mouth.
Cersei broke the kiss, eyes blazing. "Sit on the edge," he ordered, realizing she was ready for the next step.
Once she did, he flipped her so that her legs were still in the water while her tits were smashed against the marble surface.
And, he took her. He didn't pull any fancy trick, just a hard, merciless invasion until she cummed. But, for him, it was merely foreplay. He had another idea that was even more tempting.
While she shivered, he hugged her and carried her to the bed, acting gentle and elegant. "My Queen, you have beautiful lips," he whispered as he lay her down, and positioned himself so that her head was resting on his thigh.
"I do," she whispered proudly, all the while he rubbed her back gently, her pleasure spiking back.
"Yes, you do," he said, rubbing her back until she was half delirious with pleasure. "Show me how well you can use them, my queen. Show me that you are superior to all other women."
A rather heavy-handed approach, but he had certain advantages. Cersei was easy to manipulate even in her best state, and she was far away from it. She was delirious with pleasure.
And, his Edible Fluids trait, a niche reward he had assumed to be a waste, but the fact that even precum tasted good enough to intrigue Cersei helped him when he pushed his shaft into her mouth, giving her some time to react.
"Oh, so good," he moaned, an exaggerated reaction as she was clearly inexperienced with it. Possibly first time. Not a surprise considering her pride, and he suspected he was the only partner suicidal enough to put his cock into her mouth.
His hand dipped down to find her folds, the pleasure enough to distract her. She started bobbing her head, and once she got a taste, her enthusiasm rose enough to cover up her inexperience.
She pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening.
"It was an excellent start, my Queen," he whispered as he grabbed her head again, and started fucking her throat aggressively, while he simultaneously caressed her core. It was dangerous, he knew.
But, he couldn't help but feel excited as he explored her throat, confident that he could twist the situation. "Just tap my leg if you can't handle it, my Queen," he said, very well aware that she would take it as a challenge.
She did, her hands deliberately staying away from his thighs while she fisted the sheets. He pulled out only after the pleasure got too much, filling her throat … but before that, she climaxed twice.
[Feat Achieved! Treat Cersei like she deserves
+1x Silver Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He flipped her to the bed, and moved behind her, rubbing against her tight ass. "How was it, my Queen," he whispered, once again pushing his seductive to limit.
She wheezed in exhaustion, but she still licked her lips. "Hmm, far better than I expected," she whispered.
He chuckled, letting her catch her breath until he was back to full size … and they started again.
Cersei might be dangerous and unbalanced, but she was still amazing in bed! Like ReplyReport Reactions:Kharchos, GoodOldChap, Mahoraga and 542 othersJesse_DesireTuesday at 3:23 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 16 New View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Yesterday at 3:57 AMNewAdd bookmark#514For the first time in his life, Rohar could say that life was beautiful. He spent his days training his spear, hand-to-hand, and sword skills, his movement abilities, broken by summons from the Queen with an impressive frequency, or occasional visit to Ros where they used their familiarity to further discuss their plan.
He even managed to squeeze time to continue read about poisons and medicine, getting a decent understanding that he would rather trust himself to treat someone rather than one of the butchers claiming to be healers.
However, he didn't let his improvements to make him arrogant. He was a much better fighter than before, but even now, he wasn't sure he could beat Bronn in a fair duel even if he had been using a spear, let alone someone truly skilled like Loras and kingslayer.
The latter was particularly important, as he doubted Jamie would be as chill about Tyrion about Rohar fucking his precious sister.
No, his time was ticking, which was why he had already moved Tyrion's last gift — two hundred gold dragons, once again proving himself an amazing employer — out to the city, spreading it across several spots, some truly hidden, some could be discovered but easier to take even if he was doing his best to leave the city.
The only issue was that, for the last fifteen days, he hadn't gotten any more ticket. He would have visited Sansa for another easy ticket, but the spies around him continued to increase, making it likely that another disappearance wouldn't pass the muster. His only interaction with Sansa had been three nods from a distance, always accompanied by one of the Tyrells.
With the fragile situation he was in, he wasn't willing to push his luck.
Still, all things considered, it was the greatest stretch he ever had in his life…
… which was why when he saw the first sign of it about to be ruined, he was resigned rather than surprised.
It was early evening, He was walking in the streets of the city for another meeting with Ros when he noticed he was being followed. Well, he was always being followed, but usually, the spies that did so were trying to avoid notice, staying at a distance.
This time, it was four people, dressed in thick cloaks, with swords in their hand. They didn't seem to care too much about alerting him, which might suggest they had others ready to cut his way.
The worst part. He recognized them despite their lack of insignia. He had seen them around the Red Keep. Lannister soldiers.
It would have been bad enough, but he knew who they were serving. These weren't Cersei's brutes, the kind who looked for excuses to skip work at the first opportunity, more experienced in flattery than actual fighting. These weren't Tyrion's either, not that he had actual soldiers. He only had a few that occasionally followed his orders because he was generous.
They were Tywin's men. And, they moved like they meant business.
Rohar decided it was time to disappear. If Tywin's men were following him, it meant that not only he realized he was defiling his daughter regularly, but also he decided to deal with him. Probably because he couldn't allow his precious bloodline risk being sullied by a small folk.
As for how Tywin would deal with him … well, there was no question there. Tywin Lannister didn't waste time on petty games. There were two options. Killed, or tortured then killed.
Rohar's fingers flexed once around the bundle. He felt the urge to sprint, to vanish into an alley like a rat. It didn't matter if they set an ambush, he could pull himself to one of the roofs, and disappear.
He didn't.
He'd spent his whole life learning the same lesson in different forms, panic killed you faster than blades, and sometimes, easiest path was not the best one. And, escaping from Tywin's men was like that. If he showed his incredible ability, moving over roofs with the same ease he could in the street, the next ambush, they would fill the roofs with archers and turn him into a cushion.
And, Tywin would send more men. The man was predictable that way.
Rohar was supposed to be able dodge arrows with his agility according to the description, but he had no intention of practicing it live.
No, he needed to disappear in a way that didn't give them anything more than they already knew, so that even if they were searching for him, they would search on the wrong places.
He kept walking, while doing his best to see where the other part of the ambush was coming. It wasn't difficult. Living his whole time in the city, he could see who belonged, and who did not. Moreover, Intermediate Stealth skill improved the way he watched people.
He noticed the patterns immediately while in the past, patterns that would have taken his full focus in other situation. How crowds flowed around obstacles, how men unconsciously avoided the paths guards preferred, how a wagon's squeaking wheel always drew eyes a heartbeat before it passed, they all became instinctual.
He noticed the little interruptions too, places where the rhythm stuttered, where someone hesitated just a fraction too long.
Like four people standing at a corner, trying to look like they were idling. They didn't look at Rohar. In the past, he might have missed them, but this time, he noticed that they didn't look anything else either. They weren't idling.
They were waiting.
Suddenly, he realized the function of the four men behind him wasn't to deal with him. They were to be seen, alert him so he would try moving away, only to be ambushed by the second team.
A simple plan, but a very effective one.
Tywin was even more serious than he realized. He took a deep breath, trying to come up with a better plan … one that immediately popped the moment the salty smell of the sea touched his nose.
He wasn't too far from the sea. If they wanted to kill him, why not give them what they asked.
He glanced around, noticing a small cart, filled excessively, ready to be toppled. A perfect chance. He continued to walk, positioning himself between the cart and the second group, subtly pulling a dagger and hiding in his palm, moving faster to show he had noticed the first group.
He was tense. When the second group made a move, he was ready … but even then, he was surprised when it started with a direct attack, trying to kill him. Tywin wasn't playing.
He made a show of stumbling, like he dodged the attack by dumb luck, but he cut the ropes as well. The dagger hit the overfilled cart instead, which meant no one would blame Rohar for the load of the cart spilling toward them.
"What in the gods name!" Rohar gasped in fake shock even as he rolled from underneath the cart, appearing on the other side. The second group was entangled with the collapse, but the first group stopped walking menacingly, and started running.
"Fuck," Rohar gasped as he took a sharp turn, picking one of the side roads that split to many directions. There, he could have ditched them and disappear … but he didn't. Instead, he picked another, thinner path, so much that only one of them could engage with him.
"Cut his way," one of them shouted while, he pulled his blade and attacked. Rohar defended himself, but two exchanges later, he was bleeding, one from his leg, and one from his left arm.
Two wounds he had received intentionally, letting the enemy score hits rather than killing him. There was no point killing him. Lannisters had tens of thousands soldiers to replace him.
He ditched him in apparent fear, and disappeared in a section of the city that might as well be a maze, playing his life's most dangerous game of chase. He made sure to clash with different men, receiving shallow wounds from them, glad that even experienced soldiers were no match for the squires. They were not trained to fight alone, but as a unit, which made them easy to control despite his relatively middling blade skills.
To sell the story further, he ripped his own clothes whenever they were not aware to reveal the thin chainmail underneath, and he even used his dagger to put a small notch inside his cheek, spitting blood during every clash.
A perfect way to sell a serious injury.
Then, he let them drive him to the shore, not too far away from the docks, meaning the water was deep and dirty.
There, he took a deep step, and decided to give a performance impressive enough that Tywin had no reason to look for him. "I won't let you take me alive," he shouted, and with a running start, he jumped toward a boat tied to the pier.
It was an easy jump, but when he was jumping, his leg lost its strength, and he hit the water loudly. The fact that he was wearing armor meant that there was no surprise when he started sinking rather than floating.
A perfect death scene.
[Feat Achieved! Survive Tywin Lannister's Wrath
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
Only when he reached the bottom of the sea, which was about thirty yards, he removed his armor, and to be on the safe side, buried it under the mud just in case they decided to send a diver to check, and swam away.
He didn't follow the shore but moved toward the open sea, using his Hydrokinesis to open a small path from his mouth to air, allowing him to breathe without revealing himself.
He stayed underwater for hours, letting evening turn into late night. And even then, he didn't return to the city from the shore, but went to Flea Bottom, one place he knew like the back of his hand, one place he could disguise himself and disappear with no one to be suspicious.
Was it excessive, maybe. But, he had long noticed that people that underestimated the lengths Tywin Lannister would go for his revenge tended to end badly … even after the guy had funded the bards about writing songs about that exact fact.
No, he was more than happy to stay under his notice. Rohar would disappear, dead. And, if a mysterious spear-using mercenary occasionally popped around the King's Landing, it would have nothing to with the poor squire that had died in the hands of Tywin's men.
He expected the result, but for some reason, it rankled him. It didn't matter that he was doing his best to stay under notice, being treated as a meaningless target that could be killed in the streets like nothing annoyed him.
Maybe it was because it had always been his biggest fear, long before the System. Dying to a random attack in the same streets he had born and struggled, immediately forgotten.
"It's lucky that I am already planning to take revenge on Tywin," he muttered, hoping that it would suppress the growing fury in his heart. He had no intention of doing something asinine as trying to assassinate Tywin, as unlike his daughter, he wasn't stupid enough to go anywhere without a cadre of guards.
He didn't need to. Tywin prided himself for his control over everyone else, a mastermind that could shape the seven kingdoms. Listening two of his children constantly complain about him had been revealing, which ultimately boiled to same thing. Tywin was a control freak with little affection even for his children, only caring for the family legacy and how they would serve it.
He wished he could watch his reaction once he saved Sansa from his clutches, ruining most of his plans regarding the war. Rohar genuinely didn't know if that would upset Tywin more than losing one of the children.
But, once he settled in a random corner, disguised as a mere street rat, he decided to pray once more before activating the ticket.
[Momentum]
{Uncommon Ability: The longer you are moving, the faster you start going, with a maximum of 500%. This limit can be expanded through training.}
"Good ability, but too bad it'll be too noticeable while moving around in the city, and swimming require Hydrokinesis to be useful —" he started muttering, only to be interrupted by another notification.
{Five abilities collected. Second ability slot has been activated!}
"Oh, I take it back," he muttered, realizing that, his little plan turned out to be even more incredible. It would also be useful when he was using the secret tunnels without a desire to avoid notice. He would be faster than horses, which could be particularly useful once he stepped into the king's wood, and hide his retreat if he was discovered.
The only issue was how long he could maintain that, as moving faster would not only tire him faster, but also the strains from the abilities were not insignificant. Even with his stamina traits, he wasn't sure how long could go.
Still, even if the distance he could cover was less than a mile, it could prove difference between life and death by avoiding an encirclement after a big event.
Like after saving Sansa.
He wanted to go visit Ros immediately, but it was not a safe spot to spend his time. Instead, he decided to find another place for himself. Then, the realization hit.
Why not butcher street. There were many healers that practiced there with their faces covered at night, not to mention, even by reading, he was better than most of them. It was an even safer than a mysterious spearman identity. Just spending some silver would be enough to rent a large place with a big basement, one that he could finally practice with a real spear, maybe even hiring some thugs to practice his hand-to-hand abilities.
Staying cooped up would mean he wouldn't have any chance to gather tickets, but he was alright with it. While having some more abilities would be useful, they were both rare and quite varying in quality. He could get another Momentum … or he could get another Sweat.
No, as much as he would never turn down any ticket, he was aware that taking a break for two or three months while he pushed his existing skills to limit was the right idea, especially since he no longer feared any forced conscription. If the worst happened, he could run to the wilderness.
Finally, he wouldn't have to factor in the spies watching his every move while he trained.
&&&
As it turned out, hoping that the world would stop and let him do as he wished for a few months had been … optimistic. He barely had two weeks before a beggar kid arrived, bringing him a message.
That one of the books, one with a red cover, on Ros' window had fallen out of a window. "Good work, kid," Rohar said as he flipped a silver coin toward the beggar. Then, he immediately went to the back, grabbed a spear and his money pouch that had once again included most of his fortune, changed his hooded mask into another masked outfit, and he started running.
He didn't engage his momentum and stuck to the back alleys, but otherwise, he moved as fast as he could move.
The situation was serious.
After faking his death, he hadn't dared to meet with Ros. Feeding information to Varys while working for Littlefinger meant that she was watched by many different groups. A meeting, even with all the secret entrances and other stuff, was too dangerous.
She knew that he was alive, because they managed to pass a few massages back and forth using runners. They didn't talk anything complicated, just enough to tell her that the arrangements and secret codes they had arranged was in place.
The book was one of the signals they had discussed. A relatively overt one, only to be used when she felt the situation reflected direct risk to her life. Luckily, it was not the worst one, where she would use a special satchel on the fire, one that would make the chimney spew out colored smoke, only to be used in the case of immediate danger.
Covering the distance hadn't been long. "What happened?" he asked when he found another beggar, one that was paid to just watch the entrance from a long distance. Another precaution, suggested by him, and arranged by Ros.
"Two burly man led the nice lady into a carriage, and left."
"What direction?" Rohar asked, expecting it to go toward one of the gates. Littlefinger had a sense of theatrics, which meant he would probably want to torture her a bit before killing her.
It was also why Ros insisted to stay and continue tracking Sansa's situation rather than escaping. She trusted her assessment on Baelish's character enough to bet on her life, confident that he wouldn't just kill her in the brothel.
Especially since killing her there would ruin the business atmosphere.
To his surprise, however, the direction the beggar pointed was not the city gates, but instead deeper. The Red Keep.
He left immediately after making him repeat the description of the carriage, as the situation suddenly got even more urgent. If they left the city, he could intercept them on his own terms.
But, going to the Red Keep changed things. Depending on who was picking her up, the situation would be troubling. Worse, there were many options, and only after he saw the identity of the escorts, he could determine the identity. Varys was an unlikely option, it still left Tywin, Cersei, Tyrells…
"Or little snot of a king," he corrected once he took a glimpse inside the carriage from the open window, and two familiar knights at the each side of an unsettled Ros. Two of the kingsguards. Their identities made it worse. One of them was Boros Blount, while the other he only recognized as Meryn Trant's replacement.
It made worse, because even among the low standards of the latest batch, they were the worst, to be sent out when Joffrey had a particularly nefarious idea in mind.
Or, better, he decided as he decided to use his great advantage to throw himself to the side of the window, and stab Blount on the face. They were terrible fighters, merely brutes excelling in brute force and cruelty.
The other seemed to be an even worse, because he wasn't even able to react before Ros pulled a knife and stabbed him on the thigh. It was not a deadly attack, but rather than trying to defend himself against the spear, he tried to take the knife from Ros.
He died.
[Feat Achieved! Save Ros from a terrible fate
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
"Hello, beautiful," he said even as he opened the door. Ros only managed to put a shaky smile before she fainted. Not exactly a shocker. She was brave enough to risk her life, but watching two people die violently around her required some familiarity.
He grabbed her unconscious form, tapping momentum just a touch to move faster even as he jumped on the roof, determined to reach the city gates before the alarms could ring.
After all, he had just killed two kingsguards, and unlike before, no one would mistake it for some thug getting lucky.
Though, they certainly didn't deserve their name. They didn't even give a bronze ticket.
Ros woke like someone surfacing from deep water, slow at first, then all at once, jerking awake in panic, shuffling on his shoulders.
"Good evening, beautiful, nice nap," Rohar said, his tone cheerful. Deliberately so, a good way to tell her that the danger had passed.
"I had better," she admitted while he put her down, trying to look brave, but when she looked down to see her bloody dress, her face lost color again.
"Calm down, we're already out of the city," he said, making a sweeping gesture. "If you don't believe me, take a breath."
She did, then again. "Smell is gone," she said.
"Exactly, and we're already in the forest. They will not be able to find us. You're safe."
Her eyes widened. "Out, we can't. We have to go get Sansa!"
"Is she in danger?" he asked, tensing. He didn't want to lose Sansa, not with the power she represented for him, both System-related, and directly.
"Not immediately, but they decided who she will marry."
"Who?" he asked.
"Tyrion."
Rohar sighed. "Good —"
Ros interrupted, her voice suddenly getting higher. "Good. Good! She can't marry a Lannister!"
Rohar sighed. "Don't worry. She won't. But, Tyrion will not try to push his luck before marriage like some others might, because he has already someone else he loves. It gives us time."
She nodded. "Good point. Once we return to the city, we will make sure to get a plan—"
This time, it was Rohar that interrupted. "There's no we. You're not returning to the city," he said.
Ros bristled. "Sansa needs me to help her."
"No," he repeated. "Sansa needed your help, and you have done everything you could do. You found me, you have gathered all the necessary information at the risk of your life, and you kept Varys and Baelish distracted by each other. No one helped Sansa more than you did."
Ros shuffled, her anger helping her ignore her trauma. "I can still help—"
"You can't," Rohar cut in.
Ros flinched. "That's not—"
"Ros. You can't help, not anymore."
She lifted her chin, stubborn pride flaring. "I can go back quietly. I know how to be invisible."
"I have killed two kingsguards to save you. Do you think if you return, anyone would just ignore your presence. That monster with the crown too vindictive to ever forgive you. Baelish will hate you even more since you'll be blamed."
"What about Varys?" she asked.
"Did he bothered to send you any warning about Baelish?" he asked. Ros shook her head. "Then, you're already a disposed asset," he said. "Worse, you have been saved by someone he didn't plan, meaning he will target you as well. You can't reveal me without ruining our plan to save Sansa, as he would never let a piece leave the board either. You can't keep yourself safe from all three of them in King's Landing. No one can."
"You did," she said.
Rohar couldn't help but smirk pridefully. "Technically, no I didn't. I had died to a cowardly ambush from Tywin, witnessed by eight of his loyal men, as well as multiple other spies. Therefore, no one is looking for me. Why do you think I didn't just kill them instead?"
"Good point," she said, then fell silent. He didn't say anything else, knowing that it wasn't an argument. Not really. She just needed some time to process what had happened.
Instead, he just stood up and walked. Not fast, nor in a hurry. He was confident that they wouldn't be looking for them outside the city as he reached the gates just before they rang the bells and sealed them, meaning they believed Ros and her unidentified partner was still in the city.
He wondered just how long they would search. The fact that Ros was tangled with both Littlefinger and Varys meant that no one could truly be sure whether one of them hadn't been pulling a double bluff, and the inevitable temper tantrum of the king once he learned he had lost another two kingsguards would muddle things even more.
Too bad he couldn't just perch on a rooftop and watch the mess.
Ros said nothing as they walked, not even when they found a small water source. He wandered away to hunt a few rabbits, cleaned and roasted them to put his cooking skill to a good use, while she cleaned her clothes the best she could.
"You're a better cook than I expected," she said. "Not many men can cook. For some reason, they believe a hotter flame is always better."
"Living alone forces one to learn a few tricks."
"You have more than a few tricks," she replied.
He shrugged. "Others have their family and their reputation to sate their ambitions. I have my tricks."
Ros's eyes drifted down to her hands as they sat next to the fire, and took a deep breath. "So, I'm useless now," she said.
Rohar patted her shoulder. "Only on the subject of extracting Sansa from the King's Landing."
She chuckled, but it was a bitter one. "I'm a whore about to pass her prime, currently being hunted by three of the most influential men in the world. I'm useless for everything."
"You're not," he said. "You can still do a lot that will put you in a good position."
"Like what?" she asked, acrid, thinking that he was just merely trying to console her.
"Depends on what kind of life you want to live. If you want to be safe, you can just find a small town that you can blend in without suspicion, and once I save Sansa, I will pick you up if you're on the way. Or, I will come and pick you after. I'm sure that Starks will reward you for the role you have played in her safety. From there, under their protection, you'll be free to live your life as you want."
"They would," Ros said, calming down.
Rohar nodded, though not mentioning it wouldn't be that safe if Starks lost their war, which, considering the current state of war, was not out of question. Mentioning it would just start an unnecessary distraction.
He wanted her to focus on something else. "Or, you might work for me," he offered.
"Work for you?" she said, her eyes widening. "As what?"
Rohar nodded, glad to see her not asking any asinine questions like whether he wanted her as a personal mistress or something. Not that she wouldn't be a fun mistress, but it would be worse than what Starks could offer. "I need someone I trust to move to one of my targets and establish a network, ready to address what I might need."
"Like where?" she asked.
"There are options," he said, thinking a little about the options. Winterfell was not necessary, as just by saving Sansa, he would establish himself there. And, without Sansa, there wouldn't be much point moving there immediately, not when Starks had been mostly spread around during war.
Some options were Highgarden or Dorne was there, but they would be just discounted versions of King's Landing. "Braavos, or Oldtown," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Interesting choices. Braavos, I understand. But, Oldtown?"
Rohar smirked even as he shrugged dismissively. "I told you. I'm ambitious."
She didn't answer immediately, but paused. "You have more tricks than you have revealed, right?" she asked. He nodded, letting his smile widen. "So, Oldtown?"
"What I will want is simple. Books," he said.
"Books? Just that?" she said, but her sarcasm was clear. After all, there was only one source that would make books from there valuable. The Citadel.
"Yes, books," he said. "For the moment, anything related to alchemy and medicine takes priority, but ultimately, I'll want copies of any kind of books. They don't have to be exclusive or secret."
Ros took a deep breath. "Your ambitions is not just be a bannerman for Starks, is it?"
"Being a bannerman might be useful, but it's not the only way to get powerful. Look at Varys or Littlefinger, for example. Or, Braavos, where there's many merchant lords stronger than many nobles."
Ros nodded. "Yeah. Littlefinger might be a monster, but I can't say he isn't powerful. But even he wants a castle."
"Correction," he said. "He is trying to take the whole of Vale. Hardly equivalent to a small keep in a forgotten part of the North. Believe me, if someone offers me Stormlands, I'm taking it."
Ros sighed. "Ambitious, indeed." She paused again, which he liked, as it showed she was putting some proper consideration rather than just accepting it. "Which one do you prefer?"
He paused, thinking the options. Braavos represented money and ability to hire relatively reliable mercenary forces, which was valuable. But it was also not something that would speak to Ros' abilities.
In comparison, the benefits from Oldtown was more nebulous. They would have books on topics he wanted to read, but would it include magic? It was not something Rohar had dared to ask around, but from what he could glean, maesters claimed that there was no such as magic.
Rohar knew that part was a lie. He had rather convincing evidence about its existence. The problem was that whether he could believe the maesters about magic. After all, knights claimed themselves to be protector of justice, yet in King's Landing, it was suspiciously absent.
Did maester believe magic didn't exist, or maybe they just hoarded its knowledge? As for not using it despite knowing, it was clear. Low-magic warning he repeatedly got.
He decided that the risk was worth it. Even if they had none, he would eventually get higher ranking skills on topics like medicine, and require information he couldn't purchase randomly. Not to mention, it was still a critical location for Seven Kingdoms, meaning even if all failed, it might still provide him with tickets.
"Oldtown," he said.
"Interesting choice," she said. "And, what will be my resources," she said. He pulled his large money pouch. "If you think that little money is enough to —" she started, only to pause when she grabbed it, the weight alone enough to tell her it was not filled with silver, but with gold. "How much?"
"One hundred and eighty dragons," he said. Not a small amount, considering one gold could be converted to two hundred and ten silver dragons. A true fortune.
"You trust me with that much money?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Considering I trusted you with my life, it's not too much of a stretch, right?" He trusted her. Not enough to share his biggest secrets, but he didn't trust anyone about that, and he doubted he would anytime soon … if he ever did.
"Good point," she said. "But, Sansa will need a waiting lady."
He shrugged. "Sansa will not need a waiting lady, as the moment she disappeared, the whole land will be crawling with soldiers trying to cut her path. What she needs is to get away from Lannisters before they force her to be part of it. While I believe Tyrion would make a surprisingly good husband for her as long as she learned to ignore some infidelity, rest of her in-laws are … not pleasant."
She snorted. "That's an understatement. But, she doesn't have to learn accepting anything."
"She has to if she wants to marry noble. Do you know even one noble that stayed loyal to his wedding laws."
"Lord Stark—" she started, only to freeze under his gaze.
"Really, that's your example. The man famous for his extreme honor and nobility, yet still with a bastard that he raised with his trueborn kids."
"Jon is a nice kid."
He waved his hand. "Woman. I'm a bastard born in a Flea Bottom. He's a noble bastard, lucky enough to grow with his father who accepted him. The only thing I feel toward him is envy. My point is that even Lord Stark couldn't keep it in his pants. Odds are Sansa's wouldn't be able to either. And, Tyrion would be much better than Loras as a husband."
She sighed. "Fair point, and unnecessary one considering the rest of Tyrion's family is monsters."
"No argument there," he said. "Back to the point, I still don't know which path I'll pick to save Sansa, but no matter what, a handmaiden is not something I can afford to drag with me."
"I hate that you're right," she said. "Her safety and freedom from Lannisters is the most important thing."
He nodded. "Do you need anything else for your trip. Should I try to find some guards from a nearby town, maybe find a place in the caravan."
She shook her head. "Unnecessary. I have traveled from Winterfell to here with just a pocket full of silver. From here to Oldtown is even easier. I just need you to buy some clothes from the nearest trade outpost, and maybe some hair dye. Once I change them and walk into the place, I can handle the rest."
He nodded, deciding to trust her capabilities. He didn't have the luxury to bring her to Oldtown before returning, as it was not a short journey. And, if he couldn't trust her to travel alone, how could he trust her to actually establish a network that could infiltrate the order of maesters?
"Fine, let's get moving, then," he said.
"Right now?" she asked. "What's the hurry? With the city closed, you can't enter."
"You're wrong, it's the best time to return," he replied. "Right now, everyone is trying to prevent you from escaping the city, meaning they won't pay much attention trying to enter. More importantly, every spy will be focused at the walls, meaning less attention on the Red Keep."
"Fine, let's get moving, then," she said.
&&&
He had left after watch Ros disappear into the small trade outpost, dressed as an older lady with gray hair and a limp leg. Her disguise surprised him positively, both in terms of quality and about the subject, showing him that her rise hadn't been an accident. She knew the tools she had, only her excessive loyalty to her northern identity pushed her into a situation that would have killed her without his help.
Though, he was interested to notice that, not once, she didn't warn him about not touching Sansa. Then, it clicked. She probably assumed that he had enough common sense not to do that.
Too bad he didn't. Seducing Sansa was certainly one of his plans; and it would have been even without rewards. Having Rob Stark's gratitude would be nice … having Sansa insist on rewarding the brave warrior that saved her with true rewards, maybe even castle with some proper potential would be much better.
On the way, he prayed for a long time, activating his reward from saving Ros only when the city was visible at the distance.
[Mixology]
{Common Skill: You have the skills of a well-trained mixologist and bartender. You know how to mix most drinks and come up with your own alcohol combinations that taste great, as well as managing a bar and dealing with drunk people.}
"What a horrible timing?" he muttered as he read the explanation. If he had received that skill before he left Tyrion's service, it would have been fun.
He sighed. Maybe they could meet in the future and he could impress him then.
Rohar laughed, amused how fond he was of the man despite his biggest flaw … being a Lannister.
Sneaking into the city was easy. Shockingly so. All he needed was to ditch his spear, start swimming while staying underwater, his momentum ability allowing him to swim underwater faster than a horse could run, with Hydrokinesis to supply him with air whenever he needed.
Once he arrived at the Flea Bottom, all he needed was to sneak into one of his emergency stashes, change his clothes to something dry, though that turned out to be very difficult. Every inch of Flea Bottom was being searched by the guards, the city in alert. He managed to avoid them only because he knew Flea Bottom like the back of his hand.
Still, he was glad for his stealth skill, allowing him to bypass many problematic area that would have stumped him. Suddenly, hiding in Flea Bottom stopped being an easy task, and turned into something impossible.
Then, he slowly make his way to the Red Keep, which was easy. All he needed was to look like a guard returning from the duty. What he said to Ros was true. Everyone was trying to prevent Ros from escaping the King's Landing, and no one expected someone to infiltrate the Red Keep.
Once he left the shore and reached the inner parts of the city, bypassing the occasional check point was much easier.
The fact that he knew many different entrances that led directly to the Keep itself rather than using the main gates made his job even easier. Entering the Red Keep was easy, but he knew that staying would not be as simple. Once they failed to catch Ros, someone would think that she might be at the Red Keep, a location that many of the most significant suspects could easily bring her.
Luckily, he had a place to hide. One that no one would be looking for Ros or her mysterious savior.
Sansa's room.
Hopefully, she would be happy about having a roommate.