Chapter 11: Chapter 11: A Night Worth Celebrating
The streets of Winterfell were quiet, the northern air crisp with the lingering bite of winter. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I made my way through the winding paths of the outer town, searching for a place where a man of my means could indulge.
I had spent nine years becoming one of the deadliest men in Westeros, amassing gold, power, and skill, and now, I wanted a proper welcome back to the North.
And what better welcome than Ros—the famed red-haired beauty of Winterfell?
I had heard whispers of her before I even reached the city. Men spoke of her with reverence, of the way she could make a man forget his worries, of the way she moved, touched, and whispered sweet filth in a lover's ear.
A woman like that? She was worth my time.
And tonight, she would be mine.
The Tavern of Sins
I stepped into The Weeping Direwolf, a well-known pleasure house in Winterfell, though not nearly as grand as the brothels of Essos or King's Landing. The warmth of the tavern hit me instantly, a stark contrast to the cold outside.
Inside, the air was thick with cheap ale, firewood smoke, and the lingering scent of perfume.
Half-drunken men sat at wooden tables, laughing and fondling women draped over their laps, their dresses pulled dangerously low, their intentions clear.
My eyes scanned the room until I found her.
She was seated at the far end of the tavern, near the fire, a goblet of wine in her delicate hands, her crimson hair glowing under the flickering light.
And gods, she was beautiful.
Freckles dusted her pale skin, her full lips curved into a teasing smirk as she whispered something to another girl beside her.
She had the kind of confidence that only a woman who knew her worth could carry.
And I had every intention of making sure she knew mine.
A Game of Words
I made my way toward her, the heavy sound of my boots against the wooden floor drawing her attention.
She glanced up, her eyes locking onto mine with an appraising look, slow and deliberate.
"Well now," she mused, her voice as smooth as silk. "You're new."
I smirked, leaning on the table, my gaze roaming over her lazily. "You could say that."
Her lips quirked in amusement. "You've got the look of a man who thinks he owns the room."
I shrugged, tilting my head. "Maybe I do. Or maybe I just know what I want."
She took a slow sip of her wine, her green eyes gleaming with playful mischief.
"And what is it you want, stranger?" she asked, her tone sultry, inviting.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make her focus entirely on me.
"You," I said simply. "For the night."
She let out a soft, amused hum, trailing a finger along the rim of her goblet.
"Confidence," she mused. "Most men stumble over their words when they approach me. But you? You walk in here like you already own me."
I smirked. "Do I?"
She arched a brow. "That depends. Do you have the coin to afford me?"
I leaned back, watching the way her lips curled, the way she studied me with curiosity.
"Tell me, Ros," I murmured, enjoying the way her name rolled off my tongue. "How much does a night with you cost?"
She tilted her head, considering. "For a man like you? Ten silver stags."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "No."
Her brow lifted in surprise. "No?"
I held her gaze, letting the tension build before I tossed a pouch onto the table, the heavy sound of coins clinking together filling the space between us.
She glanced down, her expression shifting when she realized it was far more than what she had asked for.
"Ten times the price," I murmured, watching the flicker of intrigue dance across her features. "That's what I'm offering."
Her lips parted slightly, her fingers brushing over the pouch before lifting back to my face.
"That's enough to have me for more than just one night."
I smirked. "Then maybe you should make sure it's a night worth remembering."
She let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking her head.
"Gods help me," she murmured, "I think I like you already."
She stood, taking the pouch of gold and sliding it into her bodice before reaching for my hand.
"Come then, sellsword," she purred, "let's see if you're worth all that coin."
I let her pull me toward the staircase, my smirk widening as I followed her.
Tonight, I would celebrate.
And Ros would be my reward.