"Am I too slow?" Roslin asked.
"You're not slow," Alaric said, his voice dropping. "Just stop rushing."
"Yes, Alaric," she whispered.
She turned back to the hearth. The pan hissed as she dropped in the butter. She focused on the eggs, trying to make the meal perfect. Alaric slid off the stone table and moved behind her. Roslin didn't realize he was there until his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"My lord... the eggs'll burn," she managed to say.
"Forget the eggs," he muttered. He kissed her neck, breathing her in. Roslin's head fell back against his shoulder, her fingers gripping the spoon.
"No buts," he said, nipping her skin. He grabbed her hips and spun her around to face him. The spoon hit the floor with a clatter. He tangled his hand in her hair and kissed her hard. Roslin bunched the fabric of his shirt in her fists, kissing him back. She pulled back just an inch, gasping. "What if someone walks in?"
Alaric didn't budge. He stepped closer, pinning her back against the edge of the hearth. "Don't worry. Just a quickie."
"Alaric..."
"You looked so sexy cooking," he whispered. "I needed a taste. Now turn back around."
She obeyed, her heart hammering. Alaric smirked and reached under her skirts, his hand moving up her thigh until he shoved his fingers deep into her pussy.
"Keep cooking," he commanded. "I'm hungry. Don't let the fire go out."
Roslin whimpered, reaching for the pan. Her hands shook. Alaric's fingers moved inside her, slow and steady. She leaned back against him to stay upright. Every time he pushed deeper into her pussy, she moaned. The sound of the sizzling eggs mixed with the wet noise of his hand.
"My lord, I can't," she gasped as his thumb found her clit.
"You can," he said. His other hand grabbed her breast over her clothes, squeezing the nipple. "Focus. Are the eggs done?"
The spoon hit the pan in a messy rhythm. She was trapped between the hot stove and his body while he fucked her with his fingers. Finally, Alaric gave one last shove into her pussy and pulled his hand out. Roslin slumped, gasping for air.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His fingers were wet with her scent. "Clean them," he ordered.
Roslin didn't hesitate. She took his fingers into her mouth, licking them clean while staring into his eyes.
"Good girl," he growled. He grabbed her waist and hoisted her up, sitting her on the edge of the stone table. Her skirts bunched up, leaving her open. He kissed her neck one last time. "That should be enough for now. The eggs are ruined anyway."
Roslin didn't move. Her legs stayed parted. "You can't just stop. Once we return to our room... can we continue? Please?"
Alaric grinned. He put his hand on her belly. "The moon tea I gave you. You've been taking it?"
"Yes, my lord. Every drop."
"Good. Remind me in a month to get you more. I don't want accidents tonight." He stepped back. "Now, get down. Straighten your skirts and look normal. We're leaving."
Roslin smoothed her skirts down with trembling hands, trying to compose herself. Her face felt hot, and her heart was still racing against her ribs.
She cast one last look at the ruined eggs in the pan before Alaric's hand settled firmly on the small of her back, guiding her away from the hearth.
"Come," he said, his voice low and vibrating against her side.
They left the warmth of the kitchen, stepping into the cooler air of the stone corridor. The castle was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic echo of their boots on the floor. Alaric kept her close, his arm heavy and possessive around her waist as they made their way toward their chambers. The anticipation of what would happen once the door closed behind them made Roslin's knees feel weak.
Soon after reaching thier room,
Alaric shut the door and immediately pushed Roslin against the stone wall. He didn't say a word. He stripped off her new Winterrose outfit, letting the wool and silk fall to the floor. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her up, pinning her against the masonry as he took her with the same force he had used in the woods.
Sunset in the Guest Wing
The sun was low, sending orange light across the room. Alaric stood by the window, fully dressed in his leathers. He looked completely energized, showing no signs of being tired.
Roslin lay on the bed, naked under the thick furs and the warm Monarch's blanket. Her hair was messy, and her legs felt like broken stilts. She was too exhausted to move.
Alaric looked at her and smirked. "We spent the whole afternoon like this, Rose".
Roslin looked up at him, her voice raspy. "You just don't get tired". She pulled the blanket tighter. "I don't know how I'm supposed to handle you alone. I think I'll be needing helpers just to keep up with you".
Alaric grinned, thinking of Sansa back in King's Landing. He walked over and touched her face. "Helpers? Be careful what you wish for. You might get them sooner than you think".
He kissed her head. "Rest now. I have to go deal with Robb".
Alaric turned back to the window and looked down into the courtyard. Winterfell was a mess of activity. Men were moving quickly, horses were being saddled, and the sound of shouting rose from the gates.
Below, near a stone pillar, a figure stood perfectly still. It was Dae, The man in plain robes looked up toward the guest wing window. When he saw Alaric, he gave a slow, deliberate thumbs-up. The work was done.
Alaric felt a surge of satisfaction.
Alaric stood over the bed. Outside, men were screaming that the "Robb" had fallen. Roslin looked up at him, her face pale.
"Stay in bed," Alaric said. He wasn't smiling anymore. "It's about to get dangerous out there. Stay put."
He walked out and shut the heavy door behind him.
...
The Great Hall was a mess.