Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The ride back to Winterfell was uneventful. The air was crisp and cold, the snow crunching beneath our horses' hooves as we rode through the towering gates of the Stark stronghold.

For years, I had watched this place from a screen—but now, I was here, riding through the very walls of the ancient fortress, the heart of the North.

The castle was a stark contrast to the lavish palaces of Essos and the warm cities of the Reach. The walls were high, thick, and built to withstand the harsh winters. Smoke curled from the towers, filling the air with the scent of burning wood.

The people of Winterfell moved with quiet efficiency, dressed in thick furs and leathers. They weren't soft like the southerners; they were hardened by the cold, their expressions unreadable.

This was a place built for endurance, not luxury. And I intended to make it my home.

As we rode through the courtyard, I noticed a few pairs of eyes lingering on me. Soldiers and stable hands eyed me with curiosity, some with wariness.

I didn't blame them. I was an outsider, a sellsword, and the North didn't trust easily.

But that would change.

Standing Before the Warden of the North

I was led through the stone corridors of Winterfell until we reached the Great Hall.

There, seated on a simple but imposing wooden chair, was Eddard Stark.

The Lord of Winterfell.

He was exactly as I remembered him—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing the weight of responsibility like a second cloak. His grey eyes were sharp, scanning me with quiet judgment as Ser Rodrik Cassel stepped forward.

Rodrik cleared his throat and spoke.

"My lord, the bandit threat has been dealt with. We suffered no losses. The sellsword, Damon Waters, played a key role in tracking and eliminating them."

Ned's gaze didn't shift from me.

"Is that so?"

Rodrik nodded. "Without his tracking skills, we wouldn't have found them so quickly. And in battle, he proved himself more than capable."

I inclined my head slightly, keeping my expression measured, respectful—but not meek.

Ned leaned forward slightly, his gaze pinning me in place.

"Tell me, Damon Waters," he said, voice even. "Why was a sellsword so interested in hunting down bandits? You fought without promise of coin. That is not something your kind is known for."

There it was. The suspicion.

I had prepared for this.

I took a slow breath before speaking.

"Because I wanted to prove myself, my lord. And because the North is my home."

Ned's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

I carefully wove my lie, layering truth with falsehoods.

"My mother was a Northerner," I said, "but I was born in the South. My father was a hedge knight—he never spoke much of his origins, but I know he fought for a Northern lord once."

I let my gaze lower slightly, as if recalling painful memories.

"When they died, I had nothing. No home, no family. I became a sellsword because it was all I knew. But I don't want that life anymore. I don't want to sell my blade for coin forever. I want to settle. I want to live a life that means something."

I met Ned's gaze again, letting sincerity shine through my carefully constructed mask.

"I want to find a place where I belong, and the only place I've ever felt drawn to is the North."

Silence filled the hall.

I could see the gears turning in Ned's mind.

He was a man who valued honor, who believed in duty, loyalty, and the strength of one's word.

But he was no fool. I knew he was still skeptical.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "A sellsword wanting to live an honest life is a rare thing."

I shrugged. "I never had a choice before. Now I do."

Ned studied me for a long moment. "And what is it you ask of me?"

I bowed my head slightly, choosing my next words carefully.

"A place to belong, my lord. A way to earn my keep with honor, rather than blood money. I want to settle here, and I seek your help to do so."

Rodrik cleared his throat. "He is skilled, my lord. It would be a waste to send him away."

Ned leaned back, considering. The weight of his decision sat in the air like a drawn bowstring.

Finally, he nodded. "So be it."

"You will stay in Winterfell."

A New Role in the North

✔ I was granted a place among the guardsmen of Winterfell.

✔ I would train with them, work under Ser Rodrik's command, and prove my worth in time.

✔ I had been accepted—but not fully trusted. Yet.

As I left the Great Hall, I let a small smirk slip.

I had made it in.