Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The preparations for departure were well underway. The halls of Winterfell were filled with the murmurs of men arming themselves, servants scurrying to pack provisions, and the somber weight of farewells hanging in the air. Eddard Stark, ever methodical, stood within the great hall, carefully selecting the men who would accompany him to King's Landing.

Damon Waters observed from a distance, his mind already made up. This was his chance. King's Landing was where the pieces on the board truly moved. To remain in Winterfell meant stagnation. To go south meant opportunity.

Stepping forward, he addressed Ned Stark with measured confidence. "My lord, I would volunteer to accompany you."

The Lord of Winterfell turned his sharp gaze toward Damon, assessing. "You wish to come south? For what reason?"

Damon met his eyes, unwavering. "You will need men who can see beyond what's presented, men who can move in the shadows when needed. I am not a knight, but I know how to handle myself, and I know King's Landing well enough to not be blind to its dangers."

Ned studied him for a long moment, the hall silent save for the shifting of armor and hushed discussions among his other men. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will ride with us."

A small victory, but a meaningful one. Damon's path had shifted, and soon, he would be at the very heart of the game.

Sansa's Companions

Elsewhere, Sansa Stark was deep in her own preparations. Unlike her father, she was not selecting warriors, but companions—those who would travel with her and Arya to the capital.

Jeyne Poole stood at her side, eager and nervous in equal measure. "You're certain, Sansa? My father might not approve."

Sansa smiled gently, taking Jeyne's hand in reassurance. "Father agreed that I could choose a friend to accompany me. And you are my dearest friend."

Jeyne's face brightened with relief. "Then I will be ready."

Damon found them near the stables, and his eyes flickered toward the third woman standing with them—Ros. The red-haired woman stood slightly apart, but when she saw Damon, she offered a small smirk.

"You've decided to leave the North?" Damon asked her.

Ros chuckled softly. "Sansa's septa insisted she have a lady's maid in court, and who better than one who knows how to listen?"

Damon's lips curled slightly. Ros was no fool. She had secured herself a position close to Sansa, just as he had advised. It would be useful having someone in the Red Keep who knew how to hear things that others did not intend to be heard.

"Then I suppose we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," he murmured.

Ros only smiled in response.

The Ride South

The morning of their departure arrived quickly. The gates of Winterfell yawned open, and the party gathered, horses restless, banners snapping in the wind. Catelyn Stark stood at the steps, bidding her husband farewell, her eyes heavy with worry. Bran remained unconscious in his chambers, a lingering ghost that hung over her heart.

"Take care of them, Ned," she said softly.

"I will," was his only reply, pressing a final kiss to her hand before mounting his horse.

Damon positioned himself near the middle of the traveling party, between the armed guards and the carts carrying the young ladies and their attendants. He cast a glance toward Sansa and Jeyne, who were speaking in hushed tones, their excitement barely contained. Ros sat beside them, her gaze flickering between the road ahead and the men who rode alongside them.

This was the beginning of something new. King's Landing loomed in the distance, a city of promises and betrayals. For some, this journey meant duty. For others, it meant adventure.

For Damon Waters, it meant everything.