The Stormlander Ch. 02

I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones.

All characters are 18+.

- - -

A Place in Her Service

The days following Ser Damon's induction into Queen Cersei's service would prove uneventful. Though, that was what the bastard knight expected. Winning the heart of the Lioness of Lannister was not a feat that could be accomplished in short order. No, Damon knew that such a task would take some time.

In the meanwhile, the daring stormlander settled into his new life as the queen's sworn shield. This came with new clothing and armor, as the queen wished to see her men-at-arms garbed in the proud colors of her own house. Lannister gold on red. An odd feeling Damon had wearing them, being the blood of Dondarrion. But the colors suited him well enough if they got him that much closer to the queen's bed.

Another boon that came with being a queen's man was the salary. For the first time in years, Ser Damon had himself a steady stream of coin. He had only been in King's Landing for a week and he was already gaining back the money he spent on food, on drink, and on women.

The light of the seven, it seemed, was shining on Ser Damon. Though the hedge knight was not a praying man, he couldn't help but think that perhaps there was some benevolent force guiding him towards such good fortune. It was a comforting thought amidst the blood and horror of this recent war.

So when the queen finally summoned Ser Damon to her solar, he hoped that the gods would continue to guide him true.

Admittedly, the young knight felt a rush of sensation though his body as he climbed the steps of the staircase, with excitement and nervousness intermingling. He had to wonder... Was the queen so brazen as to take a bastard as a lover? Was she so brazen as to take him to bed at midday?

It was the second thought that gave Damon pause. It was as unlikely as it was unwise. If the queen were to take a lover, surely she would be discreet about it. The lioness would have him visit in the dead of night if she would have him visit her at all. More than likely, she only wanted to speak with him.

Ser Damon stood before the door to the queen's solar then, opposite to the queensguard Ser Balon Swann and Ser Arys Oakheart. He nodded at the two men in shining white armor.

"Ser Damon Storm." He introduced himself. "The queen summoned me, I've been told."

The two queensguard said nothing but nodded in turn. Ser Arys opened the door, motioning for Damon to enter. And so Damon did.

The royal solar was big and spacious, likely larger than a peasant's entire home. Directly ahead of him was an open balcony bathed in warm sunlight. To his right sat the queen's four-poster bed, holding an enormous featherbed covered in thick, crimson blankets. Hanging from the wooden canopy were sheer, silken drapes, the delicate red fabric turning almost pink in the glow of daylight.

On the bed sat a beautiful woman. But this woman was not Queen Cersei.

The woman was shapely in a delightful way, with Damon's eyes immediately drawn to her bosom - or rather the way her bosom seemed close to bursting from her dress. Garbed in white silk she was, the bright fabric a striking sight against her smooth, olive skin. Not Westerosi, nor Dornish. The woman, Damon knew, was a foreigner.

Damon's eyes trailed upward to take in the beauty of her face. Her lips, full and plump, were curled into a sultry smile while her dark eyes drank in Damon as he had done to her. Her hair, a mane of black curls, tumbled down past her shoulders. Damon imagined running his hands through those soft, wavy locks.

The strange, beautiful woman stood from the bed then. Damon could see the way her dress hugged her body, the white silk clinging to her wonderfully wide hips.

"He is here, your grace." The woman spoke in a low, smooth voice, her words sweetened by her foreign accent. She was Myrish, to the best Ser Damon could tell. Then the dusky woman sat back onto the featherbed, her eyes never leaving him.

Damon found his vision blessed with a new sight as the queen entered the solar from the open balcony. She was a vision of royal beauty wreathed in golden sunlight. Her dress was a long and flowing gown of dark velvet, Lannister red with gold trimmings, that wrapped around her body like a robe. Her golden hair was free and loose, falling down her back and shoulders in shimmering waves.

"Thank you, Lady Taena." Said the queen, giving the olive-skinned woman a small smile. Then the Lioness of Lannister turned her eyes on Ser Damon.

"My queen." The Bastard of Blackhaven bowed his head as the blonde approached him. Then he lifted his head high and put some steel in his spine, his back going straight as a spear. A proud stance for his proud queen.

"Ser Damon." Queen Cersei greeted him. His own name sounded lovely upon her lips, the knight decided. He would henceforth find more reasons for her to speak it. The golden-haired royal clasped her small, pale hands in front of her, smiling up at the taller man. "You've served me well in these few days as my sworn shield."

"You are kind to say so, your grace." Ser Damon said.

The queen pressed her full lips into a line. The look on her fair, flawless face was one of consideration, contemplation. Her eyes were on him, but they did not really see him. It was clear that the woman was lost in thought. Queen Cersei then shared a quick glance with Lady Taena.

"I have experienced great fortune during these recent days." Said the queen, turning her bright emerald eyes back onto Ser Damon. Those pools of green had a heat to them, burning with passion like wildfire. "The enemies of the crown blunder themselves into ruin and death with shocking regularity. But these moments of favor from the gods will never soothe the pain of the losses I have suffered."

On silent feet, the queen brushed past Ser Damon and sat beside Lady Taena on the featherbed. The Myrish woman wrapped her arms around Cersei's shoulders, drawing the blonde closer to her. The foreign lady's full breasts were pressed flush to the queen's shoulder. It was a captivating sight. But Ser Damon still had enough good sense to speak.

"Few things in this world can allay a mother's sorrow. Or a daughter's." Damon spoke softly, respectfully and with downturned eyes. He did not know King Joffrey or Lord Tywin, but they were the queen's own blood.

The queen said nothing for a long moment, staring at Damon with thoughtful eyes. Meanwhile, the dusky Lady Taena rested her chin upon Cersei's shoulder, their cheeks brushing together. It was a most curious thing to see the queen so close and affectionate with another woman. Ser Damon found no reason to complain. He'd had the pleasure of watching beautiful women enjoy each other's company before. Seven hells, he'd even paid for it. Perhaps entering into Queen Cersei's service was an even better idea than the man previously thought.

"I find myself in need of your sword, rather than your shield, Ser Damon." Queen Cersei finally said. Beside her, Lady Taena gave the knight a little, knowing smile.

I come to the capital to charm my way into the queen's bed... But it seems this foreign harlot has gotten there first. Perhaps she would be willing to enjoy my company as well...

But Ser Damon knew that before that could even be a possibility, he would need to establish himself as a true queen's man. The knight knelt then, dropping to one knee before the eyes of the two women before him.

"I am at your command, my queen." Damon declared with summoned conviction. For a moment he felt like an honest and noble knight rather than a lecher driven by his baser desires. "What is it that you need of me?"

The queen seemed pleased by his words. A small smile played upon her lips and her eyes appeared to glow with zeal. So too did the satisfaction reach Lady Taena, the darker woman's smile spreading wide and revealing her straight, white teeth.

"There is a singer." The queen began, breathing through her slender nose. "A man who plies his trade on the Street of Sisters. I've been told his voice is sweet and smooth as honey. But the words he sings are but lies and filth."

"This man speaks treasons and falsehoods against our queen." Lady Taena added, though Ser Damon caught that the Myrish beauty stressed the word 'our'. Her dark eyes were set upon the bastard knight and he saw her desire clear as water. "Every day he stands before a crowd and sullies the name of her grace, the Lioness of Lannister."

The queen's face tightened, her eyes growing hard. Then she was on her feet once more, standing over her new sworn shield. Her lips twisted into a venomous scowl and her voice came with barely contained fury.

"This cretin minstrel disparages my son, my lord father, my entire family. They haven't been buried for a year and this man thinks to sing and dance to falsehoods over their graves. He even furthers the disgusting rumors about my brother and I."

Ser Damon understood then what the Lioness Queen wanted of him. This wasn't simply a task to be carried out. This was her test, a trial to see if he was a man that the crown could trust... And if he was a man worthy of the crown's attention.

The Bastard of Dondarrion rose to his feet, standing tall, ready, and willing. He had known King's Landing would be a city of opportunity. But he had known just as well that seizing opportunity wouldn't be without blood. This singer had made a grave mistake. And his foolishness would serve Ser Damon's rise. Such was the way of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You want him silenced?" Ser Damon asked, already knowing the queen's answer.

"I want him dead." Cersei hissed, looking up at the taller knight with blazing eyes. "After everything I have endured and suffered, I will not tolerate such vile treason."

So there it was, the cold, blunt truth laid out before him. Ser Damon would kill a man and gain the golden queen's favor. Blood and cold steel in exchange for the warmth of a woman's bed and the softness of her touch. Damon appreciated the simplicity of it.

Men have killed - and died - for less. A tight, wet cunt is as good a reason to take up arms as any.

"My sword is yours." Ser Damon gripped the hilt of his sheathed longsword as if to make his point. "This man will not live to see the morrow."

Then there came the sound of the Myrish beauty cooing in delight. The dusky woman was still seated on the queen's own bed, toying with a lock of her dark hair.

"Such unwavering loyalty." Lady Taena praised him, her voice so sweet and musical. "If only all men were as true and brave as Ser Damon, your grace."

"If only." The queen agreed. She kept her gaze fixed on the bastard knight, her eyes softening some. "I trust that you can act with discretion?"

"I can. What does this singer look like, your grace?" Ser Damon inquired.

Cersei turned to Lady Taena and the Myrish noblewoman was on her feet as well. She stepped up to Ser Damon, standing close beside her queen.

"He is a Lyseni singer, tall and slender with silver hair. Valyrian stock." Lady Taena began. "His name is Johono Jaar and he always garbs himself in silk and velvet and sweet perfume. He delights in the adoration of his crowds. You will not mistake him for any other man."

Johono Jaar. The name of the man I will end to join the queen in bed. I bless the poor fool for his sacrifice.

"Find this traitor and make an end, Ser Damon. I charge you with this task." Queen Cersei grabbed Ser Damon's free hand, brought it up to her lips, and kissed it. Such a soft and delicate touch had the man yearning for more. "Do this for your queen and you will have earned your place in my service. And you will find that I can be sweeter to you than any woman living."

Ser Damon breathed in deep. He clenched his jaw.

"It will be done, your grace." He boomed. "This I promise you."

- - -

Proving Loyalty

Ser Damon took another sip from his horn of ale. He'd been nursing the same drink for the last few hours and it had since gone flat. But Damon did not mind. It was unwise to conduct business while drunk anyway.

It was long after sundown and the tavern was bustling with patrons. Bakers, tanners, smiths, and merchants of other stripes, they all came to this place for food, drink, and song. Damon, however, wasn't there to indulge his vices. He was there for another reason entirely. Tonight, Ser Damon Storm was hunting.

Sitting by his lonesome in the far corner of the main hall, Damon could see his target from across the room. A tall, slender man with the silver-gold hair of Old Valyrian stock. He was dressed in a blue velvet doublet with a dark indigo cloak. And he was singing. Poorly.

AND SO THE LIONESS WED,

NOW QUEEN TO THE KING STAG

A FIERCE BEAUTY, GOLD ON RED

FLYING HER BROTHER'S FLAG

HER SON CAME THE NEXT YEAR

WITH A MANE OF LANNISTER GOLD

THE KING'S FURY, SHE DID FEAR

HER BETRAYAL SO CLEAR AND BOLD

A jaunty little song, Damon had to admit. The patrons of the tavern seemed to enjoy the bawdy tune even if the man singing it was drunk off his arse.

Surely the singer was the target Cersei wanted silenced. But Damon needed to be absolutely sure. He may have been a bastard who spent his gold on the whores and drink, but he was still a knight. Killing without asking questions was for common sellswords.

Of course, he couldn't simply walk up and ask the man his name. Damon was well aware of how intimidating he could be, especially so with his dark cloak and a sword and dagger both hanging from his belt. One look at him and the singer would run off and cause a scene. A not-so-preferable outcome. The Queen had told him to be discreet.

Fortunately, Ser Damon had been watching his quarry long enough to devise a different approach. The singer, drunk as he was, appeared to be quite free with his affections - particularly with the tavern's serving girls. There were no wenches who could escape his grabby hands if they had the misfortune of walking by.

The singer was not the only man in the world with unseemly tastes. Ser Damon had the misfortune of meeting other degenerates of the man's like. But if he turned out to have the right name, Damon would have the crown's blessing to dispose of him. And King's Landing would be well rid of such a depraved little worm.

One of the girls the singer had just bestowed his affections upon happened towards Ser Damon's corner of the room. And the bastard knight seized the opportunity.

"I beg your pardon, girl." Damon reached out and gently set his fingers upon her arm, getting the server's attention. A closer look at her face and Damon could see just how young and fresh-faced she was. There came a spike of sympathy to his heart... And a surge of disgust in his gut. Damon kept his voice calm, warm. The girl needn't be afraid of him. "Who is that singer over there?"

Damon pointed to the man in the indigo cloak. The girl's eyes followed his hand. She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking to the floor.

"That's Johono." She told him flatly. "He's a loud one, isn't he?"

"He has a unique voice, tis true." Damon took another sip of his flat beer. "Strange accent, as well. Where is he from?"

"He's Lyseni, he is. If you haven't already guessed." The girl cast a dark look towards the singer.

Damon, for his part, felt a measure happier. The singer was confirmed to be his target. And thus the Bastard of Blackhaven had an excuse to make the city a better place by having one less drunk degenerate.

"They teach minstrels differently across the Narrow Sea, I suppose." Damon japed, setting his horn onto the table.

The serving girl chortled then, a bit of brightness returning to her eyes. At the very least, she seemed to tolerate Ser Damon's company far more than Johono's. She noted his half-empty drink, putting on a small grin.

"Another ale, good ser?" She offered, pointing to his mug.

Damon opened his mouth to politely refuse, but stopped short. He blinked. He hadn't told the girl he was a knight.

"Ser?" He feigned innocence, but the girl's eyes had a sharpness he had failed to notice before. A humble serving girl she may have been, but the maid before him was no fool.

Her grin widened, pleased with herself at having found him out.

"That's castle-forged steel, is it not?" She pointed towards the hilt of his sword that poked out from under his dark cloak. Damon glanced at the steel sheathed at his side then back to the girl's face. Cunning she was for a girl who couldn't have been older than nineteen. "And I've been watching you all evening. You don't carry yourself like a lord. So you must be a knight."

"You're a very observant girl." Ser Damon said after a moment. He returned the young wench's smile. She was cunning indeed... And could perhaps even help him in his task. Damon's hand retreated under his cloak. He dug into his coin purse. Then his hand returned, a single coin glimmering between his fingers. The girl's gaze was drawn to it instantly, her eyes widening.

"How would you like to earn yourself a gold dragon?" Damon asked, smiling.

- - -

Damon didn't feel guilty. But perhaps he should have. He watched the serving girl flirt with the drunken Lyseni, watched her pretend to enjoy his touches and affections with a false smile stitched upon her face.

The plan he had devised was a simple one. The wench would draw the Lyseni's attention, lure him out of the tavern and into the alley where Damon would be waiting. And then Damon would strike, his dagger drawn and ready. Johono Jaar would be silenced. The serving girl would receive her due payment. And Ser Damon would return to Queen Cersei as her triumphant sworn sword.

It wasn't a brave or noble thing to send a maid into the clutches of a drunken lecher. But if this was to be a quick and clean killing, Johono's guard needed to be down.

And the girl was getting a gold dragon out of it anyway, Damon told himself. That single coin was probably worth more than an entire year's wages working as a tavern wench. Surely, it was worth it to suffer a brief moment of a drunk's affection in service to the crown.

In any case, the girl would not have to suffer for much longer. From Damon's spot in the shadows at the far end of the alleyway, he could see them both approaching.

The girl, who was very convincingly acting as the playful minx, giggled as she ran further into the alley. She beckoned the drunken singer to follow her and he did so laughing. Damon remained in the shadows, still as stone. But as the girl ran past him, her eyes met his and they shared a quick look. Ser Damon gave her a short nod and flicked the gold dragon into her waiting hands. She closed her fist tight around it and darted into another alleyway, disappearing with coin in hand.

Now it was just a knight and his prey. The drunken singer stumbled further towards Ser Damon, unaware that his young female company was long gone.

The bastard knight sneered under his hood. He strode out from the shadows, dagger in hand, watching Johono Jaar lumber close and closer to his death.

The minstrel lost his footing then, falling to his hands and knees mere feet away from the towering Stormlander. The lyseni grunted and spat a curse, moving his long silver-gold hair from his face. Then he turned his reddened eyes onto the cloaked man standing over him. Ser Damon saw confusion etched upon Johono Jaar's thin face. It was as if the singer had just now noticed him.

"What is this?" Johono spoke slowly, his voice slurred, pointing in Damon's general direction with a lazy arm. "Where is the sweet girl?"

"Far away from you, should the gods be good." Damon said. The words came cold as death. He looked upon the drunk with marked scorn as he closed the distance between them. He spat upon the cobblestone. "A traitor and a degenerate. The queen will be well rid of you."

Maybe his deadly contempt was too clear in his eyes. Or maybe the lyseni finally noticed the dagger in Damon's hand. But in that moment, Johono Jaar possessed a moment of clarity through his drunken haze. A look of fear flashed through the man's eyes, along with the realization that the Stranger had come to meet him in the dark.

"Help! Guards!" Johono cried, desperately scrambling to his feet. But his voice was weak from hours of singing. Nor would his words have carried out to the main streets from his place deep in the alley. And so too did the vice of drink betray him. His balance shaken and his senses dulled, Johono Jaar was killed by ale and beer as much as by Ser Damon's blade. He made a feeble attempt to flee, only to lose his footing after a single step, crashing back to the cold, stone floor. "Help me! Murder! A murderer!"

It was dirty business to kill someone so pathetic. But it was the queen's will and Ser Damon had sworn himself to her. So he kept his vows and did his duty.

Damon stood over Johono Jaar and drove his dagger into the crawling man's back. The singer seized up, the air forced from his lungs as he gave a silent cry. For a moment the singer squirmed, rasping. Then his limbs went limp and his head fell to the cobblestone with a thud.

The bastard knight pulled the dagger from Johono Jaar's back, the blade dark with blood. Then he opened the man's throat. Just to be sure.

"I'll hear no more songs from you, swine." Damon muttered, wiping the blade clean on the corpse's indigo cloak.

The stormlander cast his eyes about the dark alley. There was no one else about at the hour of the owl. At least, none that he could see. Damon was alone, with nothing but a fresh cadaver to keep him company. A quick and clean kill, made with no witnesses. Damon had accomplished his task. There was nothing left for him here.

He sheathed his dagger and pulled his cloak shut as he stood. Damon spared the body of Johono Jaar one last glance, frowning. Then he turned and retreated into the shadows, making for the Red Keep to report his success.

The Queen will be pleased, Damon thought.

Surely she would be sweet to her loyal sword.

- - -

It was sunrise by the time Ser Damon made it back to the Red Keep. And it did not take long for word of his return to reach the queen. Damon hadn't even made it to his chambers when a page summoned him to Cersei's solar.

Tired he was and sore from the long walk. But before the queen, he stood tall and proud as a knight should.

Queen Cersei was dressed in a morning gown of gold silk, her hair loose and tumbling down her back and shoulders in ringlets. She had been sitting when Damon arrived and remained so, her green eyes looking upon him expectantly.

"You've returned." She said evenly. "I trust the matter is settled."

The ugly business now finished and behind him, Damon found his bold nature returning. He gave the queen a curled smile, pleased that he could report his success.

"The singer will trouble you no more, my queen." Ser Damon gave a short bow of his head. He gripped the hilt of his dagger, resisting the urge to present it as the weapon that finished the task. That would have been unbecoming behavior towards a woman of Cersei's standing.

Cersei Lannister didn't smile then, but there was a spark in her eyes, those pools of green becoming bright with triumph.

"Good. Very good." Cersei's full lips curled into a smirk. "It is a blessing to have the loyalty of such a true knight. I find I have so few friends during these troubling times."

She stood from her cushioned seat, taking slow, graceful steps towards Damon. She was before him then, graceful even when still. And the way she looked at him... Not with adoration or admiration, but rather in the way a cat looked upon a toy. Silent promises, her eyes made to him. And Ser Damon was reminded again that he made the right choice swearing his sword to the Lioness of Lannister.

"It's too terrible to believe, your grace, that the men of the Seven Kingdoms haven't already pledged their swords to your beauty and your charm." He spoke so lavishly to the queen that one might have thought him to be a lickspittle. But there was a measure of sincerity to his words, Damon knew. Cersei was a radiant woman. And she did have a certain charm about her. And it was baffling to the Stormlander that there were men who would pledge themselves to fight for grizzled men over such a lovely woman. "They are senseless, the whole lot of them. Those men, they cannot see what I see."

Shockingly, Ser Damon's praise seemed to please the queen even more than the news of Johono's demise. Cersei feigned a bashful laugh, but there was a keen interest about her face. She was almost leering at him, devouring him with hungry eyes. It was as if she was looking upon a man for the first time after spending her whole life among rats and snakes.

The queen reached out and took Damon's gloved hand. Tugging off the wolfskin mitt, she held him with bare skin and Damon found her touch warm and soft.

So soft... Her hands...

Cersei brought his hand to her lips. She pressed a gentle kiss upon his knuckles. A sweet, feminine thing it was. But Damon knew better. The queen was not some demure maiden. She was a lioness, a fierce creature beneath her silk gowns and golden tresses. She was toying with him. And the bastard knight was happy to be toyed with, so long as it was a woman like Cersei doing it.

"You've earned your place in my service, Ser Damon." She cooed in a soft, silky voice. Already the knight could imagine that same voice whispering to him in bed. That was the prize he so desperately wanted. The prize he was willing to fight for. What he was willing to kill for. Cersei continued, purring. "I believe you will find your time in King's Landing fruitful beyond your dreams. And your loyalty to me will be rewarded, Ser. Soon, my sweet knight. I swear it. But it will be at another time. I have business to conduct with my small council today. You may go. You've earned a rest."

Ser Damon's heart soared. His spirits were thoroughly raised by the prospect of spending a night in the queen's bed. But as her grace had told him, it would be a prize for another time. He would have to wait just a little longer. But Damon had been raised to be a patient man. He would endure.

"My queen." Damon affirmed himself to the golden lioness, bowing his head.

Then he departed, eager to get some rest... And perhaps to tend to the very hard prick that strained against his trousers.

The things beautiful women do to me...

- - -

The Lady of Myr

The hour was late when Ser Damon heard a knock at the door to his chambers. Damon closed shut the tome he had been reading and rose from his seat, smirking. Damon had enjoyed enough midnight affairs to recognize the sound. It was a woman's hand, slender knuckles softly rapping against the thick wood.

A thrill shot through his veins as he approached the door, his mind racing with possibilities. He had done his queen as service and she had sworn to reward him. Was he to collect his boon tonight? Was Queen Cersei Lannister so bold and daring to visit her sworn sword less than a day after he had proven his loyalty?

Damon wished it were so. His brief time in King's Landing had brought him fantasies beyond counting. Being in the queen's presence day after day, seeing her beauty first hand, had only served to feed his desires. He had dreamed of taking her grace, peeling away her silk gowns to reveal the splendor of her nudity. He had dreamed of filling his mouth with royal tits and slaking his prick's desire with the taste of royal cunt. And afterwards, he would whisper sweet, lovely things into her ear, running his fingers through her golden locks.

Ser Damon had traveled long and far to bed the lioness on the Iron Throne. And tonight, it seemed, this ambition would be realized.

He opened the door to his chambers...

And found Lady Taena Merryweather on the other side.

The woman standing at his doorway was clearly not the golden-haired queen. But that did not make her any less pleasing a sight. A Myrishwoman, the Lady Taena was duskier than the fair-skinned Cersei, darker of hair than her queen and darker of eyes as well. Where the queen was a woman made of morning and sunlight, Lady Merryweather was a woman of the moon and stars. Curls of midnight black tumbling down her back and shoulders, framing her fine, sculpted face.

"Lady Taena." Ser Damon greeted the woman after a moment of pause. He gave a respectful bow of his head. "This is unexpected. What brings you to my chambers at such a late hour?"

Then he turned his eyes back onto hers and noted she had a sordid look about her - the same wanton expression he had seen worn by the women of brothels and pleasure houses.

Lady Taena's full, dark lips curled into a smile. And the Bastard of Blackhaven felt his blood run just a bit hotter. The Myrish beauty brushed past Damon, boldly stepping into the knight's chambers as if she were a queen herself.

"I bring a message from her grace." Taena spoke simply. She turned to face him again, now pointedly eyeing his open door.

Damon closed the door shut. The Myrishwoman had the right of it. It would not do well for a lady's reputation if she was seen visiting a man other than her husband after sundown.

"It must be an urgent message if it can't wait until sunrise." Ser Damon said. There was a stirring in his chest. It was a common feeling for him, especially when he was alone with a beautiful woman. The sweetness of her scent still hung in the air from when she walked past. Wine and wild spices. His loins twitched then, brushing just slightly against his trousers.

It was then that Ser Damon finally noticed what the lady was wearing. Not a gown or a dress. Nor even a simple linen shift. Instead, the Lady Taena wore a thick burgundy robe, appearing as if she had wrapped herself in one of the castle blankets.

The robe was long and flowing, long enough that some fabric was dragging against the stone floor. It covered nearly all of her body, hiding her arms, her legs, even her ankles and feet from view. Everything was hidden away from the eyes of men, save for the beauty of Taena's face... and her collarbone.

The robe was large enough to fit the late Gregor Clegane, and yet Lady Taena had left her shoulders bare. It was on purpose, Damon understood. His heart began to beat quicker, his blood starting to simmer in his veins.

She's nude under that robe, Damon realized then. Lady Merryweather is my reward tonight...

"Not urgent. But discreet." Lady Taena corrected him then. Her dark eyes roamed over his body. She considered him as one would a prized horse, noting his height, his strength... Doubtless, she was wondering about his stamina as well. "Of course, you are well aware of the value of discretion. Aren't you, Ser?"

Damon did not have the opportunity to answer. Lady Taena slid forth with graceful, measured steps until she was standing near flush to the bastard knight's chest. The stormlander stood a head taller than the dusky woman. She tilted her face up to look into his eyes. And so Damon took in the lines of her face, the perfection of her foreign beauty. Her slender nose, the soft swells of her cheeks, her narrow eyes... Those full, dark lips...

She pushed herself onto her tiptoes then and stole a kiss from her queen's sworn sword. There was a fleeting moment of shock. It gave way to more eager delights. The carnal hunger of man took dominion of Ser Damon's spirit then.

Lady Taena's lips tasted of honey and spiced wine. And they were so very soft. It was maddening for the young knight, stoking the building fire in the pit of his gut. His blood was boiling now, frothing from his thundering heart. He had been with women from all over the Seven Kingdoms, but still he found new delights with Queen Cersei's lady companion. His hands went instinctively to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Even through her thick robes, Damon could feel the heat, the neediness of Taena's lush body.

She had started with small kisses, playful feathery touches upon his mouth and chin. But the Myrishwoman quickly grew more demanding in their joining, her lips eager and fervent in their attack despite their delicious softness. Damon returned Taena's challenge with his own determined ferocity. And quickly he had the woman moaning softly into his mouth.

But then she pulled away. Breathing deeply, her dark eyes glazed with heat and desire, Lady Taena touched her palm to Ser Damon's cheek. Her touch was gentle and warm.

"Our queen sees fit to reward you for your service." She whispered, her voice light and sweet. She pressed her lips to his jaw, her tongue swiping quickly against his skin. Her other hand came to rest upon his chest. Her fingers pressed into the firm muscle beneath his tunic. She pressed another kiss to his neck, giggling. "The kings of old would have showered you with gold. But Queen Cersei is wise. She knows what drives men like you. So she sent me to show how much she values your loyalty. I offer you my intimate company, sweet knight."

Lady Taena took a step back from him then and parted her robe, letting the dark velvet slip from her body. Just as Damon suspected, Taena wore not a stitch of clothing underneath.

The young knight drank in the woman's bare beauty, slowly drawing his eyes up her long legs, her wide hips, the faint swell of her belly, up her full, ripe breasts. They were proud mounds, big enough to fit in his palms and spill over his fingers, and capped with round, dark nipples that beckoned him to come and taste. Lower, between her supple thighs, grew a tuft of black hair that hid her sweet cunt from view. It glistened faintly, her womanhood already slick with need for him.

Taena Merryweather's nudity was enthralling, damn near putting the queen's sworn knight into a trance. But Ser Damon Storm was not a slave to his lusts. He kept his wits about him, even when his more lustful head swelled with hot, boiling blood. He was an anointed knight, a loyal sword pledged in service to the crown. He would accept his prize with the appropriate dignity of his station, he decided.

With no light but the candles glowing around them, Damon moved upon his very lovely reward. Tugging his evening tunic over his head, he was left wearing only his trousers. His large, bare feet plodded against the stone floor and soon he stood over Lady Taena again. Her dark eyes gleamed, daring him to take, and she gave a smile so sweet and wicked that it sent his cock surging with ferocious need.

His hands came to her waist again and this time he delighted in the heat and wonderful softness of her bare skin. He stole a kiss for himself, just as she had done, their lips colliding with fire and passion. He took in the delights of her needy mouth and she did the same, swallowing his groans, tasting of his tongue. They broke the kiss only when their lungs demanded air.

"The queen commanded you to share my bed?" Damon rasped, his lips faintly brushing against hers. One of his hands fell from her waist to take a knight's liberty with her full, plush rear end. Lady Merryweather gave a small gasp, huffing humorously. Her breath was hot and tingled against his lips.

"Yes." Lady Taena admitted, humming. As Damon's hands roamed, so did hers. She slipped her fingers under the waistline of his pants, his manhood stirring under her soft touch. She cupped him - or rather tried to. The length of his hardened cock could not be held within her slender hand. And that pleased the both of them. Taena giggled as she pressed soft, teasing kisses to Damon's neck, to his chin, and finally his lips. "But this is no trial that I must endure, Ser Damon. I gladly do as my queen bids me. I trust you are familiar with a woman's body..."

She was spurring him on, clearly. And Damon was not a man to disappoint a lady.

The Bastard of Blackhaven grunted, his thick fingers sinking into the woman's supple buttocks just as she began to massage his groin with hers. He guided them towards his bed, easily leading Taena's movements with his hold on her waist. Just as they made it to the edge of the knight's featherbed, she managed to slip his pants down his legs. They both stood naked, their bodies so close and so warm. His cock twitched madly, brushing against the sweetness of her thighs.

Ser Damon Storm huffed out through his nose, his blood running hot. He gave Lady Taena a soft shove, sending her sprawling back onto the bed. She gave a hearty laugh, her eyes wide and alive, blazing.

The young, vigorous knight looked down upon the naked woman with a hungry stare.

"I'm more than familiar, my lady..." He growled.

The Myrish beauty bit her lip, drawing her legs towards herself. Her thighs parted just so, revealing that glistening tuft of hair... and her slick pink. Her scent was thick in the air. Honey and spice and that heavy aroma of womanhood. It sent Damon's heart hammering and his head spinning. His blood sang, hot in his veins.

"Show me then." Lady Taena demanded of him.

And so Ser Damon did.

- - -

A Reward for Service

They made love.

On Damon's featherbed, lady and knight took their pleasure upon each other, slaking their wanton desires with blissful, wild abandon. It was not low-minded rutting, like what a man would seek in a Flea Bottom whorehouse. But indeed their coupling was frantic and desperate.

Hands roamed across flanks, down backs and over bellies, eager to touch, to grope, to feel. Their bodies collided, skin sliding against skin, firm muscle hammering upon soft flesh. They were joined, him piercing her, her engulfing him. She was so maddeningly tight around his cock. And her cunt, so wet and so gods damned hot. She was a molten depth that he craved to drown his cock in. He bathed his length in her slick honey.

When their end came, she screamed, howling like a madwoman while her nails raked red lines down his back. He spilled his scalding seed into her and found his hunger sated... but only for a brief moment. Soon, his cock stirred back to life. And his lustful spirit burned for more.

Then they made love again. All that Ser Damon was eager to take, Lady Taena was eager to give. The queen had bid her so, Damon knew. But it was not only duty that drove the Myrishwoman to surrender her body to the knight's lusts. She was as desperate for his cock as he was for her tight cunt. The fact that she was soaking wet between her legs was all the proof he needed.

The first time, she had been on her back. Now, the lady was on top. She rode him as if he were her prized mount, sitting upon his waist with his prodigious manhood nestled deep in her slick folds. All the way to the root she took him, sighing softly as she rocked her wide hips atop his groin. Her hands were planted firmly on his broad chest, her long locks of black hair tumbling down her shoulders... And her large, proud breasts swaying pendulously above Ser Damon's face.

Their first bout had been fast and ferocious. A desperate coupling that burned bright and brief. But by now, Lady Taena had been riding Damon for some time. Slowly, but firmly, she rocked her hips upon her unwavering steed. She was determined to draw another helping of seed from his churning balls. Damon could see it on her flushed face. He would give her what she craved... But only after she worked for it.

"Gods..." Lady Taena huffed, letting her soft rump slap down onto Damon's firm thighs. "What does it take to tire you, bastard?"

Her cunt, so wet and warm, tightened around his prick, drawing a grunt from the knight's throat. The woman's face was twisted in near-delirious pleasure... But Damon's eyes were drawn lower, captivated by the way her large teats quaked and quivered with every small shift of her body. They hung low over his face and he couldn't resist the urge to lean up to kiss the dark, hard nipples. He lashed his tongue against those wondrous peaks, kissing one breast then the other. When he was content, he let his head fall back against the bed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"The Warrior has blessed me with a vigor that few others possess, my lady." Damon told his lover. His hands held firm to her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft, pliant flesh.

Moaning, she fell upon him then, trapping her round teats between their bodies. Her dark hair came down around his head like a curtain, soft locks brushing across his skin. Her forehead pressed against his and he could feel her hot breath on his face. Lady Taena stole a quick kiss, giving a pleased hum.

Damon gave a low grunt and used his grip on her waist to rock her body atop his. Her cunt, so tight and slick, stroked the length of his prick.

"Oh!" The Myrish beauty cried, exhaling sharply into Damon's neck. Her cunt clenched around manhood, milking him. A moment passed and then Taena lifted her body some, staring down at Damon with hazy eyes. Her next words came slow and strained. "It's because... you're a bastard. That's where your fire comes from."

"How so?" Damon huffed. Beads of sweat trickled across his brow.

"Bastards... Are born of lust." Lady Taena answered, rolling her hips. She sighed, shuddering atop of her strong, vigorous mount. She sank back down onto his cock, her buttocks clapping lewdly against his muscled thighs. She moaned as Damon struck deep within her sex. Beneath her, the bastard knight hissed through his teeth. The dusky woman gave a breathless laugh. "They are born of lust... Thus they are lustful. It is your nature to bed ladies and whores, sweet knight. The gods made you to fight all day and fuck all night."

"The gods have my thanks." Damon grunted.

Taena leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Mine as well."

Then Lady Merryweather started to rock her hips faster, rising and falling upon Ser Damon's hard, swollen cock. Soon their bodies were crashing together, the sounds of their carnal joining filling the bedchambers and carrying on out the open window. Taena's moans grew louder, turning into shrieks and screams. Her nails dug into Damon's skin and soon even the knight was growling and spitting curses. His blood boiled in his veins and his skin was flushed red hot. His balls roiled and churned with scalding seed, his prick ready to erupt.

The sweet sounds of her desperate cries... The tight wetness of her cunt... The way her heavenly teats swayed and swung right in his face... It was too much for Ser Damon Storm. This time, it was he who found his ending first. Snarling, he gripped tight to Taena's hips and drove himself up into her needy cunt as far as she could take him. Then he let loose, shooting hot seed into her silky folds.

Her cunt tightened around him. Lady Taena quickly followed him over the edge, screaming.

It was ecstasy that was poured over him, molten metal from a smith's forge. Over his skin, into his veins, deep into his bones. A fire blazing within his chest, his belly. Boiling hot seed frothing in his balls, now rushing forth like a flood from a broken dam.

The Myrishwoman whined and whimpered above him, the feminine keening so sweet and womanly that Damon thought he might spend again. When his manhood could give no more, the bastard knight sucked in a ragged breath. Lady Taena found herself drained of her strength and collapsed atop him, moaning softly as she settled her arse onto his groin, too weak to remove herself from his cock.

Lady Taena Merryweather may not have been the golden queen that Ser Damon desired, but nonetheless she proved herself to be a delectable prize unto herself. As his taxing efforts began to catch up with his body and weariness began to pour into his bones, the Stormlander felt more than pleased with the path his life had taken.

If this is the way Queen Cersei rewards loyalty, she may have my sword for a thousand lifetimes...

- - -

Shockingly, neither of them fell asleep. As exhausting as the bedding was, their blood still ran hot in their veins. Too hot for fatigue to claim them. So for a time the knight and the lady simply talked.

His lover rested her head on his chest. She had her body pressed into his side with one of her legs swept possessively over his own. She idly traced lines over his flat stomach with her fingers. It did not bother Ser Damon. He always enjoyed the softness of a woman's touch.

"You made the right choice..." Lady Taena told him. "Pledging your sword to Queen Cersei."

"Clearly." Damon answered with a faint grin. "Especially after a reward like that."

Taena gave his chest a half-hearted slap.

"You jape. But she will make a fierce queen. A strong queen. One that will crush all who oppose her."

For a moment, Damon did not answer. Lady Taena, he assumed, was the queen's confidant. It made sense that she would be privy to at least some of the crown's plans. And that made Damon want to know more. This was the crown he had chosen to serve, after all. It was in his best interest for the Iron Throne to succeed.

"She's spoken to you of her plans?" He asked.

Lady Taena hummed in affirmation. She pressed a kiss to his chest, running her hand over his body, her fingers raking through his dark chest hair.

"First, she will take back Dragonstone from the usurper Stannis Baratheon. Leave him without his seat."

She would send men to attack Dragonstone? But that would be a waste.

Ser Damon had learned years ago about the value of restraint. But for this, he could not keep silent.

"That would be a mistake." He said to the woman at his side. He did not speak harshly, but his conviction in his truth gave weight to his words. "Dragonstone poses no threat to King's Landing. Stannis took most of his men to the North. Sending a force to lay siege to that castle would be a waste."

Lady Taena lifted her head from his chest. She looked at him with curious eyes.

"What would you do instead?"

Ser Damon thought for a moment. He took a breath through his nose. Then he met his lover's gaze.

"I would focus my attention on the Ironborn." He told her. "Rapers and reavers, the whole bloody lot of them. They've attacked the North already. But they'll be wanting more riches than the Northerners can give them. Soon enough, they'll turn their ships to the Westerlands. How tragic would it be for Queen Cersei Lannister to lose her ancestral home..."