Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

I had to decide.

✔ Do I let the North bleed? Let the wolves die, claim Sansa as my prize, and rule through her?

✔ Or do I keep the wolves alive, gaining their trust, fighting alongside them, and securing a comfortable position of power?

In truth, I did not care about thrones.

I was not a king. I was not a conqueror.

I was a man.

A man who enjoys wealth, luxury, and most of all—pleasure.

And that meant my decision was already made.

✔ I would not carve a kingdom from the ashes of Winterfell.

✔ I would not waste my life in endless wars for a throne I had no interest in.

✔ I would take what I wanted, keep myself wealthy, and surround myself with beautiful women willing to serve me.

That is the life I desire.

Not a crown.

Not a legacy.

Just wealth and women.

The Wolves Must Fight

But if I was to live this life, I needed to ensure one thing—I could not let the North fall too soon.

✔ If Ned Stark died too early, Winterfell would crumble.

✔ If Robb Stark fell before he bled the South, the power vacuum would shift too fast.

✔ If the North was too weak, it would be impossible to use it for my own gain.

I would let the wolves fight, let them struggle, let them shed blood.

But I would not let them die completely.

I would keep them just strong enough to be useful.

And if I played it right?

I could still take Sansa Stark for myself, regardless of the outcome.

The Life I Wanted

I smirked to myself.

I have no interest in wearing crowns or ruling over men.

✔ I do not want to sit on the Iron Throne.

✔ I do not want to be bound by responsibility.

✔ I do not want the burden of ruling a kingdom.

I wanted wealth, comfort, and pleasure.

I want to enjoy the finest food, drink the rarest wine, and lay with the most beautiful women in the world.

And most of all, I want women like Sansa Stark to willingly surrender themselves to me.

To crave me. To serve me. To belong to me.

That is my throne.

That is my kingdom.

And I will build it, piece by piece.