Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

Winterfell was awake before dawn, the lingering echoes of last night's feast fading into the cold morning air.

Servants moved hurriedly through the halls, clearing the remnants of wine-stained tables and half-eaten meat platters. The royal party had brought chaos and whispers, and today, it would bring decisions.

Today, Robert Baratheon would offer Ned Stark the position of Hand of the King.

Today, Sansa Stark would learn that she was to be wed to Joffrey Baratheon.

And today, I would take another step forward in my own game.

A Conversation Among the Dead

Ned Stark and King Robert descended into the crypts beneath Winterfell, their footsteps echoing softly off the ancient stone.

I was not with them, of course.

But I had ears everywhere.

The crypts were a place of ghosts and memories, of old kings and dead heroes. It was fitting, then, that here, Robert would try to drag Ned into a war he did not yet see coming.

Robert's booming voice carried through the halls as he stood before Lyanna Stark's tomb.

"You should be down in King's Landing, not hiding up here with the damn snow."

Ned, as expected, was hesitant. He did not want power. He did not want politics. He was a soldier, a father, a Stark.

"I have a wife, a family. The North is my home."

But Robert did not care for protests. He needed Ned.

"You're the only one I trust, old friend. I need you beside me, now more than ever."

And then came the truth.

"The damn Lannisters are up to something. They're always up to something."

That, more than anything, would weigh on Ned's mind.

Robert was blind to politics, but even he sensed something was wrong.

But Ned? He was a man of honor. He would never refuse his king outright.

Even if that decision would lead to his doom.

A Marriage for the Realm

Above the crypts, in the great hall, another decision was being made.

Sansa Stark, dressed in pale blue and silver, sat beside her mother, Lady Catelyn. Across from them, Queen Cersei sipped her morning wine, her expression unreadable.

Joffrey sat beside his mother, his usual smugness ever-present.

And then, Robert's voice boomed through the hall.

"What better way to unite our houses than with a marriage? My son and your daughter. A Baratheon and a Stark—just as it should have been."

Sansa froze.

The moment had come.

Lady Catelyn was surprised, but pleased. A royal match? It was an honor.

But Sansa?

Her hands clenched slightly in her lap.

She had dreamed of this moment, of marrying a handsome prince, of one day becoming a queen.

And yet—

A flicker of uncertainty crept into her mind.

A single thought she could not shake.

A star for the lady who dreams of them.

A different voice, low and smooth, whispering in the godswood.

"If it was, would it trouble you?"

A gift. A moment. A man who had left her breathless for reasons she did not understand.

Her eyes drifted down to her lap, where her fingers brushed against the hairpin she now always wore.

She barely heard Robert and Cersei finalize the agreement.

Because for the first time, she realized…

She wasn't sure if she wanted Joffrey.

Arranging Ros Closer to Sansa

While the nobles spoke of marriage and alliances, I was already working to place my own pieces.

Ros had spent her last night with me—not just for pleasure, but for purpose.

Her new role was beginning.

She was no longer just a whore.

She was mine.

And now, she had a new task.

"Jeyne Poole," I told her that morning.

Ros raised a brow. "The steward's daughter? What of her?"

"She's one of Sansa Stark's closest friends," I said smoothly. "And I need you to be close to her."

Ros smirked. "You want me to corrupt a little noble girl?"

"Not corrupt," I said, tilting her chin up with my fingers. "Influence."

She swallowed. Her body still remembered my touch, my control.

And now?

She would learn to crave my approval.

"Jeyne likes to gossip," I continued. "She talks. And Sansa listens."

Ros exhaled, nodding slowly. "You want me to feed her whispers."

I smiled. "Exactly."

Jeyne Poole would be our entry point.

Through her, Ros could plant subtle doubts in Sansa's mind.

Doubts about Joffrey. About the South. About who she should really be looking at.

And through her, Sansa would start thinking about me more and more.

By the time she realized it, it would already be too late.

The Game Continues

By nightfall, the castle was still buzzing with news of the engagement.

The north and south were to be united—the Starks and the Baratheons, just as Robert wanted.

But beneath the surface, whispers had begun.

✔ Ned Stark hesitated, uncertain of his future.

✔ Sansa Stark had everything she wanted—but for the first time, she questioned if she wanted it at all.

✔ Ros had taken her first step toward influencing Sansa's world.

And as I stood in the shadows of the Great Hall, watching as Joffrey smiled at his future bride, I smirked.