Isadora Godwin's Story

The Red Keep, even the name denotes a degree of isolation from the rest of the world. Outsiders aren’t aware, but the royal castle is a castle within a castle, and the private residence of the royal family can only be accessed by a drawbridge which spans a surrounding dry moat with iron spikes. Within the 12 foot thick walls are a series of hidden passages and tunnels, and which Isadora knows like the knuckles of her hand. Her shadow long, cast out by the seeming sourceless light that sift through, slithered against the walls and closely behind her walked her twin brother Damian. If the walls could talk they would scream out secrets that extend back for 12,000 years. But it was the secrets of today that mattered, the secrets that if public can change the future of King’s Landing in ways unimaginable. The brother and sister sealed the end of their trek with a lustful kiss.

She pushed Damian away when he clumsily fought the seams of her gown, “No, wait.” She lifted the heavy fabric that made the part of the skirt and exposed her naked silky legs underneath, she turned and leaned forward against the wall and he took her like he had done countless times before. She looked particularly beautiful dressed in a red formal gown and smelled of sweet flowers. He liked her golden locks carefully made-up in fancy adornments; he liked the long shape of her naked neck and the mounts of her breasts crushed together under his grasp. He lived for this moment, for her pleasure, for the idea of taking that which is taboo, for the risk, for the gall of it all. Even if all they can have is fleeting moments of pleasure in secret places. He learned long ago fate and love are never equals in the game of life.

The incestuous act came and went, forever concealed and hidden by the 12 foot walls of Red Keep. Not even the cold winds carried with them news of what they had done. And Isadora felt the cold breeze against her exposed skin and winced. She quickly fixed her dress and fought the disagreeable folds of its fabric to perfection. No words were exchanged between them none were needed. The glancing stares and smiles on their faces were the same one found on wicked spoiled children. He leaned against the wall and admired her, and she playfully bowed before she trailed back from where they had come. He watched as her tiny figure disappeared through the passage and waited until the loneliness of the place became unbearable before doing the same.

When Isadora reached the Queens Ballroom her trusted hand maid was waiting. She quickly placed a red velvet cape around the queen and fastened a golden lion broche upon its collar. The room was lively with domestic activity and preparation. “Where are my children?”

“I believe the Prince went to escort Lady O’Connel to the Duel. The princesses are waiting for your orders in their chamber, your grace,” replied the hand maid.

“And my husband?”

“He is out hunting, your grace,” said the maid hesitantly and took a step back.

Already the fire of anger Isadora felt was evident in her emerald green eyes and the shape of her lips. She knew exactly what bitch her husband hunted. She raised her chin and commenced to walk the long lavished room. Inspecting the work of the servants, pointing out what looked out of place, making last minute changes. At the end stood six guards in royal armor, covered from head to toe, their armor shimmer with the hues of yellow candle light and colors of the room. They stood still and erect like living statuettes before circling the Queen. These men worked for her, not for the hand of the king, not for the king himself. They belonged to her. They were her pets, loyal dogs that never left her side and would kill without question at her command. She set aside the anger she felt. Today was a day of celebration, her son’s 18 birthday. She’d been waiting for this day and it had finally come. And she prepared a lavished ball for her son's day. Everything must be perfect. Not even her husband can ruined the day. She won't allow it.

The Queen’s Ballroom looked immense. The upper circle on which the royal family sat ran all around, so rich were the hangings of gold and crimson and below was scarcely a foot of bare marble. The fierce fire light rose to flood the high-groined arches of the roof. The long tables below hosted a string of men of considerable power, authority, all dressed in the requisite austerity. And before them laid on the wood table exotic servings, all were content as they chattered, the dancers who cover the great floor danced enticing as if they liked the thick carpet beneath their bare feet. There were so many interlocking circles of feminine figures moving to the throb of the beat of the music that they made a series of intricate and often symmetrical design.

Isadora observed the celebration. She was a poised, lordly figure, the very image of decorous sophistication. Her eyes settled on Lillian and Alexavier. She laughed, for a moment contemplating Lillian’s beauty and seeming innocence, drawing in the evanescent adolescence that would soon fade forever – Lillian’s face was unblemished, her curious eyes gleaming, and her mouth red. She was blushing with the virginal aura she still possessed. And the impression gave a raw sharpness to all her features. Alexavier sat, staring, rapt by Lillian’s beauty that alone left no eyes for other things. They had developed an easy intimacy which Isadora had never expected, and drew from Lillian the most complete devotion to her son. They sat closely, their conversation intimate and exclusive. Indeed they seem the perfect couple, the future king and queen of King’s Landing.

Charles Godwin entered the royal room followed by a tail of guards and royal servants, which he carelessly pushed away except for the cup bearer. He grabbed a cup of wine and drank it dry, and it was quickly filled up again. He greeted some of the guests. And when the queen’s eyes met his they literally stopped him where he stood, her gaze was cold and full of anger, a look all too familiar and one he had grown tired of long ago. He shrugged his shoulders and continued, walked to his chair and sat. He didn’t acknowledge her again. He had more important things to worry about than the fury of a jealous wife. Each day more news of the brewing troubles in the north came to him in broken pieces. He’d hope a union with House O’Connel will help control the north and put to rest this thorn at his talons for good.

He looked at his son sternly and then rested his tired eyes on the beautiful Lady Lillian. Her smile brought a smile to his face. He raised his cup to them and stood up. The music quieted down and everyone collected themselves to a silent still. “LET US RAISE our cups to MY SON, Prince Alexavier. May ALL your days be full of LOVE, and merriment like it is today.” There was a great clamor, with men cheering, and the clapping of hands. A rush of pleasure passed through the room as the merriment grew louder and the music once again filled the room.

Charles observed his son and wonder if the boy would ever be fit to lead the kingdom. The more he observed the more disappointed he became. He was no Godwin, he was pure Clearwater, the boy was not apt to lead and perhaps it is his fault. No, it was his mother’s fault. She stopped being a proper wife eight years ago and he was too drunk to remember how it even happened – he looked at his youngest daughter. He looked at his middle child too; All blond, fair, and with emerald eyes like their mother. Yes she is to blame; she has failed to give him a proper Godwin heir – one of dark hair and dark eyes.

When did it all go sour? He pondered. It seems he neglected being a father to his children. But he was out fighting wars, conquering kingdoms; he did what was expected of him nothing less. He was born to be king and that is exactly what he’s been. The world needs men like him. He thought. And seating there, amongst the gala of his son’s named day a dreadful question crossed his mind. What if it has all been for nothing? The very idea upset his stomach.

Isadora tried to hide the anger she felt but everyone who knew her well could tell the queen was vexed. She sent the young princesses’ to bed and watched as the little one ran up to the King and kissed him good night. He picked her up and crushed her tight in an embraced tickling her face with his beard. The little princess's gleeful laughed was matched by the king’s enjoyment. The hand maids took the girls away. The honoring of the prince’s personal guard begun and the king gave another speech. Alexavier stood next to his father and Lillian was asked to seat with the queen at the queen's request.

The two woman faced the celebration as the queen spoke her venom. “Look at them, father and son, the two are as night and day. Yet the boy must become the father. He must do his duty. You too will do your duty when the time comes. I see your devotion to my son,” she looked at the young girl, her eyes cold and studious. “As long as you don’t lose your devotion you might earn your place. Of course there will be other changes taking place when Alexavier seats at the crown. None of which I’m afraid involve your father. Unless…,” she paused momentarily, to allow her words the effect she desired, “unless you do your duty as wife to the king and leave all other affairs to the adults. I will accept nothing less.”

Damian grew bored of the King’s speech; the very voice of the king peeved him, if only he could slash the throat and shut him up. He walked away and found a corner where the voice of the King was minimal. The idea of killing the king always entertained him. He played over the many ways it could be done in his head, but there was always one obstacle, an obstacle that pushed back his sister’s plan. And his name was Graham O'Connel, the Hand of the King.
He looked for his sister and found her on the balcony next to Lillian O’Connel. A wicked smile grew on Damian’s face. He knew his sister well and by her intimidating posture he discerned she was moving her pawns. Isadora will allow the union of Alexavier and Lillian because in keeping Lillian under her control, O’Connel will be kept on a leash. When Alexavier is given the throne O’Connel will do his best to keep the North tamed even if it means fighting everyone he knows. He will fight against all the enemies of the Wardents of the West for the safety of his family.

The Queen’s Handmaid entered the queen’s chamber and parted the heavy drapes, a gentle morning breeze ran through, and the warm morning sunlight fill the large and opulent room, bringing to light the square chairs with high curved backs arranged with colorful cloths and cushions, the tables which corners flared upwards and finished with golden animal legs. There were several boxes filled with small jars of imported perfume oils, mirrors, kohl containers and make-up items, combs, and rare jewelry. The most elaborate furniture in the room was the oversize round-shape-bed surrounded by four large columns, inlaid with colored stones and ebony and ivory, carved into lotus flowers and snakes, and in the center of the bed laid the naked frame of the Queen. Her emerald eyes open vibrant after the long sleep, and she stretched her body ever so gracefully that even the handmaid stopped and stared at the naked beauty. The handmaid’s name was Claudette and she’d been the queen’s favorite since the last handmaid was killed, a woman no older than the queen yet hard eyed and aged by the scars and rigid life of a slave. But she was a happy slave, content with the life the gods handed her, and she loved the Queen unconditionally, a love without prejudice beyond the erotic world that is hidden and which is sometimes horrifically revealed.

Claudette gathered up the queen’s robe and carefully laid it on the bed, and stood on the side and kept quiet, with hairbrush in hand waiting for Isadora to get up from the bed and take the morning tea as custom. But today the queen was unusually lazy, held Claudette. There was a smile on her face and by the looks of her she seemed happy. Claudette could not help but wonder what happened after she took the Princesses to bed. The Queen was livid then and now, now she was practically glowing.

“I’ll have breakfast with my girls today, in the garden,” said Isadora.

“Yes your grace,” said Claudette.

Isadora finally got up and took her morning tea. She walked toward the open balcony and stood there in contrast to the golden sun light and the colorful backdrop of Kings Landing. She looked on beyond the tops of the buildings and towers that stretch the landscape, toward Visenya’s Hill and the Great Sept of Baelor, and took in all that her eyes could see. There was a knock at the door. Claudette answered and Damian entered the room. He joined the Queen in the balcony and Claudette dressed the bed listening to their conversation, they talked about Lady Lillian...

“I don’t know,” said Isadora, but it did not have the tone of truly I don’t know, but rather, let it be.

“But you do believe…that she will play her part even against her own father?” asked Damian.

“Of course I believe it. You don’t understand the advantage of fear. She reeked of it. She was baffled, helpless, with a bowed head she understood she bore the whole responsibility for her father’s life. She understood perfectly well where her loyalty is required most if she weds Alexavier. She will do her duty as the wife of the King.” She looked at Damian intently. “Don’t think on it, Damian.”

“There is a matter I came to speak to you about,” said Damian abruptly. “This morning I noticed Graham O’Connel riding fast through Street of the Sisters. He was alone and the hurried manner in which he galloped allured me to follow him. At some point I lost him through the winding streets of Flea Bottom.” Isadora wondered what the Hand of the King could be doing in Flea Bottom of all places. “I circled the area looking for Graham but didn’t see him. Then I noticed a boy with Graham’s horse, a few coins paid and I learned Graham and the Whore Laurea were having a secret meeting.”

“This is not news my dear brother,” said Isadora.

“It is when it involves your husband and his whore and the child in her belly.” Damian said finally.

“Another one, how many is that now, eighteen, nineteen?” she laughed a sweet, poisonously mocking laughter. “Get rid of it. The Godwin bloodline ends with mine.”

“I’m afraid, dear sister; this one won’t be as easy as the others. The whore is Godwin’s favorite; she is well protected by the King and his dog Graham,” said Damian.

“Must I do everything?” There was a spite of a cobra’s hiss in the soft response. The Queen stepped inside the room, grasped the handmaid’s shoulders with fierce fingers, and bent to scowl full into the terrified glare of Claudette. And under the violent hands laid on her, Claudette felt a chill she could not explain creeping along her spine.

“I’ve trusted you,” sneered Isadora. “I’ve allowed you a freedom unlike any other beneath my roof. But don’t be fool by my generosity. Betray me and you will suffer such pain only death can relieve.” And having finished her words Isadora struck Claudette with all her might.

Claudette exited the palace by way of a hidden passage. Her face had been severely beaten and her clothes torn and all stained with blood. She ran like a trained runner as if death personified ran behind her, she ran nonstop until she reached the doors of Laurea’s Whore House and collapse.

The smell of onion sickened her but there was no escaping it, the medicine woman told them that Onion and Vegetable soup would do her best in her condition. Best to avoid the fat filled foods and concentrate on the nourishment of the plants. Every bottle of wine was also removed within her reach and were replaced by a daily delivery of fresh cow and goat's milk. It was rather apparent that she had gained a little bit of weight than before but with the joy of having a child also installed fear in Adarra.

She knew that her situation brings a lot of danger in her and her babe's life. "Madam, another spoon please. Madam Laurea will slap me again if you do not finish your bowl," Flora lifted a silver spoon close to her mouth as the tray had sat on her lap. Plead were in her eyes but Adarra had enough of the bland food they usually give her. Her head still facing left towards the windows as the noise of early risers rushed from the outside as she remained seated on her bed and tucked with silk blankets.

"Please Madam, just 4 more spoonfuls..." Flora asked again. She took a deep sigh and faced the servant and opened her mouth. The warm liquid filled her mouth as she did her best to gulp it all in but she had to pull the bowl to her mouth and spit it all out. Flora knew she'd be getting a beating again so excused herself out with the tray.

Moments later, dressed in fine silk dress that showed her arms and shoulders, Laura glided towards her room and lifted on of her earrings, tried it on and looked at her image in the mirror and spoke without looking at her, "I told you to go walking under the first rays of sunshine, your skin looks paler everyday. Not a pretty sight for my best whore."

"Best that you know that I've made Flora leave service. That woman can't really just do anything right. All she had to do was to feed you and made sure you are well but-" She cut herself short while she lifted her arms in the air as if resigning to the idea of doing such simple things.

She took another sigh and let herself sink in her bed, covering her whole self with her blankets and remained silent. She wasn't in the mood for Laurea's words, since the King haven't visited her for the longest time. She dearly missed him and at the same time loathed the truth about them. She wrapped herself with her arms and cried softly under the covers. When she heard a knock, the soft squeak of her door and a familiar voice "Madam Laurea, you have a visitor." Then the sound of her earrings being laid on her vanity and footsteps fading.

~~~~~~~

"What was it that you mentioned your name is again?" With a scrutinizing look and a raised left eyebrow, Laurea looked at a girl in disgust. Her servants have treated the girl's wounds and gave her a whore's dress but it did nothing to make her bruises beautiful.

"Cl-- Claudette Madam," Her hands shook as she held a cup of honeyed milk with both. The Queen had instructed her what to say and what to do in order to pursue the Whore woman to hire her.

"Ah and you said you were from?"

"Riverrun. I used to serve Lady Runwick of House Frey but when she died I had no where to go. I heard a lot about your place and dreamt of serving as a hand maid here for a very long time. I've heard of the perks and freedom in doing service in your house. I've saved enough coins and journeyed but I was robbed and beaten even before I reached your doorstep. But I promise, I am a trustworthy person. I- I bet my whole life to it," Like words from her heart, she had the words memorized while she run in fear from the Red Keep.

Laurea softly nod her head. She was indeed short of one servant since she had violently made Flora leave. She stood up and turned her back towards Claudette. She walked towards the exit then paused, she slightly moved her head and spoke, "Take you rest. You are hired and will be starting tomorrow." She then left the hand maiden as she recovered from the bruises the Queen has given her.

Damian entered the hidden passage rather careless, he didn't notice the eyes that spotted him and now followed him from a distance. He walked as he had many times to that hidden spot where Isadora was waiting, and there she was unqueenly naked. She wrapped her supple arms around his neck. Her eyes blazed like emerald jewels. Her upturned face drew close to Damian's, and he submitted to her embrace, he kissed her. "I love you!" she cried fiercely, writhing her body against his, almost strangling him in her wild embrace, shaking him in abandon. He did not hold back the searing heat of his passion for her. With an inarticulate cry he crushed her to him, bending her backward and showering gasping kisses on her lips and neck. Isadora was panting, shaking like a leaf in his grasp. He staggered like a drunken man shedding off his garments until his manhood entered the hot pocket of her womanhood, and both abandoned body and soul to the fury of yearning passion. And not far yet far enough were the wide and in-shock-eyes of the spy, hidden in the shadowed by the darkness and unnoticed by the scandalous sight they witnessed.

…………..
Graham paced the marble floor of his private study with a worried look upon his face. The King had been unreasonable and unwavering in his decisions today, and the body of councils instigated and manipulated Graham’s advice to the King. Graham was realizing he had no influence over these men, men with agendas of their own, and his good old friend Charles was always too drunk to make sound decisions for himself. The crown was heavily indebted to the Queen’s father, and he learned that House Clearwater had positioned themselves in all powers of influence over the Kingdoms. They controlled lands and held titles and everywhere he looked there were golden head lions circling the Kingdom like a pride of lions circling its prey. The Clearwaters had become richer and more powerful than any other House in the land and this was dangerous. They were all cunning and power hungry and he trusted not one of them. Unlike the King he had not lost his instinctive sense, as far as the political points of the Kingdom were concerned, but he did not know how it would all end ahead. Damian (Kingslayer) was ordered by Godwin to gather an army, an army that his father will fund and provide for the King. He is to take this army to Winterfell and bring to justice the Bandit King. Graham was refused his request to lead the army himself. He was told to handle kingly matters in Kings Landing in the King’s absent – the King was going hunting.

…………
Claudette stared at the mirror, the scars were healing well, but her face was still bruised and she didn’t recognize the reflection of the woman in the mirror. Her face was nothing more than a reminder of the charge given to her by the queen, and a reminder of the danger in which she found herself. She was now in a dangerous game paid only with blood. She looked away with a heavy heart. Her heart had been bruised too but she loved the Queen, and above all she feared the Queen. And it was this fear that gave her the strength to continue living for she did not want to die.

She entered Adarra’s chamber with her hands inside the pockets of her dress, her hand tightly holding the small flask given to her by the Queen – Its content an untraceable and untreatable poison that will mask its deathly grip like a fever and claim the life of any who consume it. “I…I’ve come to warn you, My Lady.” The two women were alone. “You are in grave danger. I was sent to kill you,” she revealed the small flask in her hand, “with a poison that will kill anyone who drinks it instantly. But I cannot do it. I too am a mother and I understand the love of a mother for her children. For that reason alone I confess.” Tears filled her eyes.

Outside the whore house the caravan of the King arrived. King Goodwin dismounted his horse and made his way inside the building. He was already drunk and equally horny. His arrival stirred the house into frenzy. His loud voice could be heard all throughout. He wanted pleasure and today he had an appetite unlike any other day, he craved for his young and beautiful whore.

Claudette was petrified and her hands trembled, and the flask rolled out of her hand to the floor. “I will surely die by the Hand of The King when he finds I’ve betrayed his orders. Please, you must hide me.” She fell on her knees sobbing uncontrollably. “I don’t want to die, please, please hide me.”

…………..
The Kingslayer rode a great black stallion, a gift from the Queen. He wore no head-peace, and his golden locks and white satin cloak flowing carelessly from his shoulders. He dressed in armor of the Kingsguard, shiny and practically new, though worn before in battle. On the breast of his armor, the lion of his house was embossed in gold. He looked the part of a Clearwater who held title and wealth. But the only part he felt was the part of a quintessential warrior; the awakening of old memories, the resurge of mad, glorious days of old when he was but a wet lad of the Kingsguard, adventuring, with no desired save a keen sword to swing on all the battlefields. Unconsciously he reverted to the old ways; a new swagger became evident in his bearing, in the way he sat his horse, and as he pushed the black stallion as hard as he dared. He rode steadily on a road stretch bare, knowing that he was traveling faster than the ten-men that traveled with him.

Adarra was still in bed, still wrapped in the silk sheets to warm her body further more. Her fire almost out but she didn' bother standing up to throw in some wood, she preferred staying in bed. Her thoughts still floating and mostly about the King. She barely minded the grumbling in her stomach, she would only eat if it was Godwin who fed her.

When all of a sudden her door opened and an unknown face looked at her and spoke, “I…I’ve come to warn you, My Lady.” Confusion registered in Adarra's face. She was about to get up from her bed when she continued, “You are in grave danger. I was sent to kill you,” Now shock filled her, she quickly grabbed her silk sheets and removed them from her body, her other hand looking for the dagger she hid under her mattress, ready to defend her self and her babe when the woman's eyes welled up with tears. She revealed a small bottle from her pocket and said, “With a poison that will kill anyone who drinks it instantly. But I cannot do it. I too am a mother and I understand the love of a mother for her children. For that reason alone I confess.” Tears continued to flow.

Adarra slowly released the dagger's hilt from her hand and was about to comfort the woman when she heard noise from the outside. Knights pushing the peasants away and horses whining and grunting, and Adarra knew who it could be. "King Godwin," she gasped as her heart beat double time. A beat of longing and fear at the same time.

The woman might have noticed her gasp and suddenly fell on her knees and pleaded “I will surely die by the Hand of The King when he finds I’ve betrayed his orders. Please, you must hide me. I don’t want to die, please, please hide me.” And she knew that this woman did not only saved her life but also revealed that she is no longer safe under Laurea's roof. She rushed by her wardrobe and pushed her dresses away, moving one lever and revealed a passage way. "In here! You must stay silent. No sounds or it's your head that would roll. Don't continue on the passage or you will get lost, wait till I open it myself," She whispered to the woman and dragged her arm and forced her to enter while watcing her door, panicking that the King might enter at once. Once the woman was inside, she closed the passage way and returned her clothes back.

She was still fumbling with everything when the door burst open, revealing the King and two of his men who remained outside. He nodded at the two and closed the door behind him. He didn't wait any longer, he rushed towards Adarra and took her in his arms.

Adarra could smell wine and sweat when the King devoured her lips, but those smell was what she yearned for. His hands moving and touching every part of her and soon was ripping her dress off. He laid her on bed, taking control while Adarra stayed silent. She knew that the woman could see everything from the passage way.

Slowly her thoughts drifted again, thinking how she should tell the King of her condition when a thought entered her mind as he parted her legs and kissed her lower lips, she gasped at the same time that doubt filled her. What if it was really the King who wanted her babe dead? The woman had spoken of him with fear. She moaned as he continued to play with her flower as her right hand slowly crept under the mattress, feeling the cold hilt of the dagger. She knew she should get through with what she planned in the first place- taking Godwin's life as he took her own.

He had slowly submerged his body in the freezing cold water as the mud slowly gets washed off by the soft current heading south. Bigger fishes nibbled at some rocks and quickly swam away as soon as Dweyth moved his body into the deeper part of the river. He was still waiting for his dear pal to come out of Arthas' tent, waiting for her accounts on what was currently happening in the Seven Kingdoms.

Dweyth quickly dipped his whole body and run out of it just as quick, he shivered as he snatched his jerkin from the large rock and quickly dressed his self. He walked towards the camp while his lower part dripped with water. Well at least he is cleaner and mud free.

He was about to enter his own tent when he met a server with a tray of goblets for Arthas and his guests. Looks like Huntley will be gone longer than he expected so he went straight to his residence and changed his dripping pants.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must stop A voice made Adarra release the dagger's hilt. If he dies here, you'd be the only one to be blamed. Then everything else is for nothing. She wasn't sure if it was her thoughts or if someone was really trying to communicate with her but she found herself dragging the King down from the top and taking over the mating. She rode him like a knight of to war as her mind raced with thoughts. She must get rid of him before he does something to her child- their child.

As the King savoured her womanhood with closed eyes, her own pair found the servant's flask. A plan immediately was formed in her mind. As the King released all his energy she kissed him in the mouth. A bitter sweet goodbye as her heart and mind fought each other. Her heart told her to not harm him while her mind wanted him without breath.

"My princess, you have no idea how much I craved for you," They were beside each other, laying naked on her bed as he bent his head to kiss her on her shoulder with one hand caressing her breast. She wanted to give off a sarcastic laugh when he called her his princess. She is a princess, bastard she may be, she knows she can have the crown one way or another. And it will only be possible if everyone in his family is dead. Her hand slowly dangled on the side of her bed, reaching for the flask of poison.

The king moved up once again, spreading her legs and entering her once more as she slowly lifted the cover of the small flask. And as soon as Godwin grunted and lowered his head next to hers, she made sure all of the flask's content is poured into his goblet. She then quickly hid it under her bed and embraced the King's torso, her fingernails digging in his skin. "I have always loved you... Father." She whispered, unsure if the King even heard her over his grunting.

Minutes after, she lay on bed as Godwin dressed up once again. He was adjusting his belt, making it more comfortable for him to breath as she noticed how he had gained weight. He pulled her up and slobbered her lips with his and smiled, "I will see you again peaches." His hands grabbing her buttocks. He then let go of her and walked towards her door when Adarra spoke, "Wait my King. You must have been thirsty for all the fucking that we did," She followed him a smile in her red thin lips and with the goblet in her left hand, she held his hand with her right and guided them to wrap it around the goblet. She nodded, urging him to drink the poisoned wine. "They have been just delivered straight from the Arbor, sweet and strong the way you preferred it." She sweetened the deal and watched as he sipped them. As usual he drank the goblet dry, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and left Adarra. Everything seen by Claudette behind the hidden passage.

Now all Adarra has to do was wait.

Seated on his father’s throne, Alexavier stared emotionless at the man before him. As his words seeped into the young lords ears, Alexavier felt a chill. Not of disgust, fear, or remorse….no, this was something primal, almost satanic. The black of his eyes expanded as a grin spread across his angelic face. The boy looked the part of a twisted demon, which it would appear he was.

Death excited him in ways no women ever could. The sight of blood made his fluids rush, screams brought pleasure, and lifeless eyes staring back into his own brought satisfaction he couldn’t explain. The identity of the head dangling before him in his shield’s hand only brought that feeling of bliss to a greater high.

Boraguard Stonehammer was a fool, and an old one at that. He was filth, and seemed to lack the knowledge of being so. Alexavier couldn’t see why his father would allow such a disgrace of a man to make the armor, or the weapons for that matter, for the Kingsguard. Just the thought that the blood splattered chest plate Bortaveous wore was made by such a man took a portion of the young lord’s pleasure away. “I want it.”

The words echoed through the empty room with a fierceness matching that of an angry lion warning others away from his kill. Bortaveous could only nod as he took his leave, head once again placed in the satchel he wore over his shoulders.
Stopping momentarily, Bortaveous noticed the mangled pigeon that lay at the bottom of his bag. Reaching inside, he tossed the small corps to Alexavier’s feet.

“I appreciate the thought, Beast, but birds aren’t to my liking”

“O’Connel was seen sending word to his followers at Casterly Rock, My Lord. I was able to shoot the bird down. I have not seen what the message relays.”

With a flick of his wrist, Alexavier sent the bloody shield on his way “You are beginning to reek. Go bath, Beast. You know what is to be done with the head.” Reaching down, he grasped the rolled paper at the end on the birds clawed feet. What the paper had hidden would send him into a rage.

Moments later he was bursting into his mother’s chambers, tossing the bird onto her writing desk “The bastard Graham means to send Lillian away! He says he fears the secrets he holds over you, as well as others, may endanger her. What, pray tell, are these secrets mother?”

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Arthas words sunk in, and Ossia narrowed her eyes and pure understanding. Robert had done many things for her in her "boy years" and now that she was a "man" in his army, she know owed her life to him "I can assure you, Arthas, Lord Robert will not see harm as long as I am here." Even as the words left her lips, Ossia believed them. Any doubt she had felt towards the man before her, or his men dissipated. They would win this battle, and hell or high water...they would win the war.

Existing the tent, Ossia took a breath as relief washed over her. Noticing Dweyth was gone from his previous location, sigh sighed angrily. the boy had the patience of a toddler at times!

Pushing her bangs from her face, Ossia grumbled.Her hair would no doubt be taking a lethal chopping tonight. She had neglected to do so lately, and it had begun to thicken and wave. Nothing too noticeable yet, but it would have to be taken care of.

Deciding it could wait, she turned her attention back of finding Dweyth. Where could he have run off too..