On to Winterfell

Within two days, Winterfell loomed ahead of them on the Kings Road. As the caravan approached, a fanfare blew from the walls of the Keep, and the huge reinforced gates swung inward to allow them access.

What a shit hole, you think to himself.

The snow covered everything, and your hands within their armoured gloves were near to frozen. The fucking Northerners seemed unperturbed by it, going about their day in clothing that wasn't very much thicker than anything that one of the peasants of Kings Landing or Casterly Rock might wear.

The household aligned before them were a ragtag bunch. Evidently dressed to impress, but a Northerners sense of flamboyance bordered on the comical. All furs and thick woolen jackets. Jaime cantered in a little ahead of the rest of the caravan, shortly before the King himself, who had decided to ride on horseback as opposed to within the carriage alongside the Queen.

A good thing, you think. That last load you had spent inside your sister a day ago had largely spattered the floor, and you could imagine the mess of stains it might have left.

As you canter through the gates, you notice the dark, shadowed looks cast in your direction. Lord Stark actually had the audacity to ignore you entirely, but Rodrik Cassel - how the old fucker was still alive you'd no idea - openly glared at you, whilst his son, or nephew - probably both - mimicked Rodrik in an uncanny fashion.

The Lady Stark, however, and her two daughters - not to mention what you thought might be one of the daughters handmaidens - now, there were some apples ripe for picking.

Lady Stark's haughty demeanor excited you. It would prove a challenge to get inside her dried out old cunt, but there was still a shadow of her youthful beauty about her - although she had nothing on your sister.

The eldest daughter was a real beauty, auburn hair tied up. No challenge, this one. The way she looked at you, as if you were a true prince out of one of her storybooks, no doubt, meant you could easily see an opening to be womb-deep in her before the day was out. Options with the handmaiden here too, another Poole, you remembered from the brief conversation about the Stark household you had had with the Spider in Kings Landing. Her doting gaze mirrored her friends.

But the youngest daughter of House Stark. Innocence abounded. She looked at you in fascination, not in arousal. Your glistening gold armour must have been the first set of 'proper' forged steel the young girl had seen. Northerners were functional bastards, but not prone to any display of proper aesthetic in their craftsmanship.

Except, it would seem, with what they birth into the world.

The sons of Winterfell and the unfortunate Greyjoy you ignored. Each of them had nodded to you as you passed, but in an entirely perfunctory and practiced manner. All but the stockiest of them, with his shaggy brown hair. Something seemed different about him, as if out of place amongst the household. He stood a little further away from the others.

The famous Bastard of House Stark. It dawns on you.

One of the Stark children was missing however. Which one, you couldn't place, but one of the youngest sons.

You slide from your horse as the King enters, looking like a sack of suet atop his charger.

A few tense seconds as the lump of a King meets his twat of a best friend for the first time in a long while, and then there's a few moments of introductions as Lord Stark introduces King Robert to his family, and they, them. In this time, the Hound has ridden up beside you and alighted from his own roan charger.

"I hate the cunting North." he grumbles to you, under his breath.

"You hate everything and everyone, Clegane. You're a decidedly unpleasant and unhappy person." you smile at him as he pauses briefly from adjusting his sword belt and glares. He dared not say anything in reply, and then settles into one of his trademark, ugly, frowns.

Once all the introductions had been made - pointedly, the King left you out of them - the household disperses. Only one thing to do now, and settle in to your accommodation (for lack of a better word).