The ride from the Green Fork back to King's Landing had taken longer with Tyrion and his mountain clansmen than it had when Kayne rode with his one hundred men after the Kingslayer. Those men were still following him now, with the other seven hundred provided by Lady Whent gone at his command. He would not take them from their lands in a time of war and so he sent them back to Harrenhal as they passed the Godseye on their way to the capital.
Tyrion had made for pleasant company, though he seemed to act as if there was no war. Every evening he would get Kayne, his sellsword Bronn, Ser Arys and the whore Shae to play a drinking game, and then when he grew bored of that he would take Shae to bed. Each day they marched and each night they drank, though Kayne's mind always raced.
He was returning to King's Landing to protect his cousins, though who could he go to for protection himself? With his father and uncle dead, and with Stannis and Renly gone from the city to claim the throne for their own, Kayne had no allies within the Red Keep. Joff was likely to execute him on the spot, unless Lord Tywin truly upheld his end of their bargain, though Kayne did not. His letter to Robb asked him to bend the knee to Stannis to get vengeance for Ned, but the tales they heard on the road was that he was now styling himself as the King in the North. Kayne's letter to Renly had been similar. According to Tywin's scouts, Kayne's uncle had rallied the Stormlords to him and then wed Margaery Tyrell to gain the Reach's forces as well. He could take King's Landing in a day with a force of that size.
Renly was one of his only friends, they were more like brothers in truth, and so he felt a sense of betrayal. Half a year ago his uncle had urged him to press his claim for the throne as they rode from Darry, now he had gathered a force in defiance of the true heir and styled himself as the King of Westeros. Kayne would soon have to make a definite choice. Robb, Renly or Stannis. His cousin, or his uncles. If he joined Robb he would be betraying the man who was like a father to him for years. If he joined Renly he would be supporting a usurper, though that is how Kayne's own father won the throne sixteen years ago. If he joined any of the three, what would become of Tommen and Myrcella? The whole realm would soon know of their true parentage, true siblings or no, they were Kayne's brother and sister and he would protect them.
He was brought out of his musings by his uncle pouring him yet another goblet of wine. They were sat in his pavilion a days ride away from King's Landing, the canvas's of the tent were all red and gold and decorated with lions. Their entire camp screamed Lannister, it made him uneasy.
"I do hope we are not boring you nephew." Tyrion spoke as he sat himself back down to the side of Shae, who sipped her wine rather elegantly for a whore of low birth.
"Of course not uncle. Who's turn is it? I have lost track." He did not care for Tyrion's games, though he'd play them all the same.
"Yours, I will make a statement about you and if I'm right you drink, if I'm wrong I drink." Tyrion explained the rules again, as he had each night.
"You know everything about me." Kayne challenged and stood up, swaying slightly from the drink.
"Very well then, no more games." Tyrion replied before he laid down amongst his pillows and pulled Shae atop him. Kayne and Bronn rolled their eyes and left the pavilion together, as the faked moans of the whore began.
At first light the following day they rode for King's Landing and they reached the city by midday. New banners were hung from the city walls, banners that displayed the crowned stag of house Baratheon and the golden lion of house Lannister together. They rode through the city in relative silence, Ser Arys rode at Kayne's right and Bronn on his left. Tyrion rode ahead of them all with his mountain clansmen trailing behind them. Kayne noticed Arys's hand resting upon the pommel of his sword, he clearly did not trust the savages or the sellsword.
As they got closer to the Red Keep they could hear cheers and cries of excitement, then Kayne remembered it was Joffrey's nameday. They unhorsed at the castle stables before walking into the courtyard where a small tourney was being held.
Joffrey sat in the shade, under a canopy of red and gold, with Sansa on his left and Cersei, Tommen and Myrcella on his right. Sandor Clegane stood behind him as he always did, though strangely he was dressed in the King's Guard armour. Kayne spied each other member of the King's Guard nearby, Ser Preston Greenfeild, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Boros Blount, all of them, all save for Barristan.
"KAYNE!" Tommen gave a cry of excitement and hopped out of his chair before running over to him as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. Kayne scooped him up with a smile. "Why did you leave?" His brother asked.
"No one cares why he left, what matters is what to do with you now you have returned." Joffrey interrupted with a cynical smile as he rose from his chair. Kayne set Tommen down on his feet and stepped closer to the boy King.
"Before you have any ideas of taking my head or having me tortured, I believe you should read this." He replied and handed over Lord Tywin's letter.
Joffrey snatched it out of his hands, inspecting the seal quizzically. This was the moment of truth, would Tywin's letter be Kayne's safety net, or would it condemn him to death? The contents would decide his fate. The King ripped open the letter and read it over, his frown growing with each line, that boded well for Kayne. Cersei stood up behind her son, and read the letter over his shoulder before sneering at him.
"You are to be unharmed and retain the Lordship of Summerhall as well as your position on the small council by order of Lord Tywin Lannister the Hand of the King." She read aloud and Kayne smiled, though that confused him. Tywin could have ordered him killed and no one could interfere, why let him live? Why let him keep Summerhall? Granted he had predictably not included the arrangement for Sansa and Arya to be placed under Kayne's protection, he had not expected Tywin to honour that part of their arrangement but the fact that he honoured any of it was a shock.
"This must be a lie! This must have been forged!" Joffrey whined.
"It was written by your grandfather, I watched him do it myself." Tyrion added and handed over his own letter, the one that named him Hand of the King in Tywin's stead. Joffrey and Cersei read that and their scowls grew even more. Kayne had to use all of his sheer will not to burst out with laughter right there.
Then, Joffrey's frown twisted into a cruel snarl as if he had discovered some new form of torment.
"I want fathers Warhammer, I am his true born son, it should be mine." He demanded. For one moment Kayne considered swinging the Warhammer into the cunts skull, but he calmed himself and detached his fathers weapon from the holder across his back. He placed it down on the floor, the handle sticking up.
"If you want it, pick it up." Kayne replied and Joffrey stepped forwards smugly, wrapping his hands around the handle and heaving. The hammer did not move. He tightened his grip and heaved again. The hammer inched across the cobbled floor. A few guards and knights let out sniggers, Tyrion and his mountain clans men did the same. Joffrey flushed red with anger and tried one last time to lift the hammer. He managed to lift it half an inch above the ground before dropping it once more.
"Fine bastard, keep it." Joffrey snarled. Kayne smirked at him before effortlessly lifted the hammer with one hand before giving a mocking bow and turning to walk away, Ser Arys turned too before Joffrey spoke up again.
"Ser Arys, where do you think you are young?" The little shit asked.
"Your father-" the King's Guard began before Cersei cut him off.
"Robert is dead, we have a new King now and you will follow his orders." Cersei could not have sounded happier as she spoke, Kayne ground his teeth, from that alone he had no doubt in his mind that the golden haired bitch had something to do with his fathers death.
Ser Arys remained where he stood, as Kayne began to walk away once more. He had barely left the gates to King's Landing when the sellsword caught up with him.
"Are you not supposed to be with my uncle?" Kayne questioned Bronn, he could smell the rotting heads of Eddard Stark and his men, he could not bring himself to look upon their faces. He had learned all their names and to look into their ghostly eyes made him wretch.
"He told me to go with you. It seems to me like everyone here wants you dead." The older man replied with a slight chuckle that brought Kayne's attentions away from the dead
"The feelings mutual. My uncle was the most honour bound man in the Seven Kingdoms, he would not have plotted against Joff unless he knew... and Robert, my father was a fool and a drunkard but even he knew to stay sober enough to be able to stand up... someone has done something, Cersei, Joffrey, Littlefinger, The Spider, Pycelle. One of them, or perhaps all of them." Kayne mused out loud as he and Bronn descended Aegon's hill side by side and turned to the Street of Silk.
Clouds were beginning to settle in, blocking out the sun and shrouding the city in a darkness. A light rain began just as it had the last time he visited Chataya's. The could still picture the scene as he he had found it, Jory and the guards dressed in Stark garbs lay dead on the floor, his uncle sat atop his horse with a bloody blade. The Kingslayer stood smugly with his own men surrounding Ned. Kayne had been with Marei when he heard the steel ring like the thunder outside. He had jumped from her bed, stuffed his cock back into his breeches and charged out at them, sword drawn, and cried Jaime's name before attacking him. He would have killed him then and there if it had not been for his uncle falling with his horse atop him.
Now though, the street was peaceful as the small folk went about their daily lives. A few familiar faces smiled and waved as he entered the brothel. It was unusually quiet, Alayaya sat with her arm around the girl who Kayne recognised as the mother of his sister, Barra, he had others he wished to see here but he could not help but drift over towards her, he had always paid towards Barra's upbringing since the girl was born, she was his sister after all.
Kayne knelt on one knee before the sobbing girl and Alayaya, and spoke softly.
"What is the matter?" He asked, the girl looked at him with puffy red eyes and tears streaking down her face.
"The Goldcloaks came, three days ago, they slew her." Alayaya explained, she herself sounded close to tears. Kayne though, he felt an anger course through him that overwhelmed his sadness. Joffrey or Cersei did it he was sure, it is not enough for them to have had an involvement in his fathers death, they had to wipe his seed from the realm.
He moved his right hand, still cut from his wroth on the table at Harrenhal, to the girls chin and gently guided her gaze up to him.
"I promise you I will avenge your daughter, the time is coming soon where Westeros will be scoured clean of the unjust." Kayne had made his mind up, the realm needed true justice and only one King could deliver that, Stannis. That is where his loyalties lie.
Before anyone could say anything more, he heard a familiar soft voice from behind him.
"My favourite bastard come to visit my girls again." Chataya purred with her exotic Summerislsnder accent. Kayne stood from the crying girl, Alayaya leading her away, and turned to face the brothels owner.
"I would like to see Ros, Lyra and Marei. Damion too if he's around." Damion was the bastard son of Lyra, one of the whores Kayne was close with. Since he was knighted, he had been asking Lyra to let him take Damion as his squire and each time she refused.
"Ros and Marei are occupied, though Lyra is available and Damion is far to young to fuck." Chataya stepped closer as she spoke, enticingly so.
"I am not here for a fuck, merely to talk." Was Kayne's reply.
"Shame, I was going to let you have this one for free, you've more than paid for at least one tumble with all the gifts and tips you leave all my girls, though only bedding the same three." She said and Kayne thought for a moment.
They had moved slowly, extremely slowly, from the Greenfork to King's Landing and Kayne had to put up with hearing his uncle sleep with Shae every night, and Shae was not quiet with her moans. Either she was an incredibly talented faker, or Tyrion was not small in every aspect. Kayne himself had not bedded anyone since Pia the night before he left Harrenhal. He had needed a comfort after learning of the deaths of his father and uncle, and since Asha had made him a man he had always found a woman's embrace to be the best comfort. Perhaps a quick tumble with Lyra could ease his stress and give him a clearer head before walking back to the best of vipers atop Aegon's Hill.
"Very well then, I shall go to Lyra. Bronn here will take Dancy." Kayne decided before removing a small pouch of coin and handing it to the Summerislander. Bronn grinned at him before being shown to Dancy's room by Chataya, Kayne knew exactly where to go to get to Lyra's room.
He passed closed doors, behind which came forced moans of pleasure from the other girls. He walked right down to the back of the brothel, and pushed open the oaken door immediately. Lyra was sat by the window that looked out to the street below, rain hit the glass panes at a rapid speed and streaked down it like the tears on Barra's mother's face. Lyra was smiling however. All the men that think highborn women possess all the beauty in the world had clearly never laid eyes on Lyra. Her golden blonde hair flowed elegantly down the back of her dress, almost touching her sizeable arse. Though it was her front Kayne was most fond of. Her heart shaped face was cream of colour, with full lips and hazel eyes. The brightness of her face contrasted with the dark colour of her dress, which seemed stretched around her chest as it was barely able to contain her exceptionally large teats. When Asha had first began encouraging Kayne to bed Lyra, the two of them had spent hours enjoying said teats together. Now though, he was alone, and suddenly felt it.
The whore's smile grew as she saw him and she opened her mouth to speak with her soft voice.
"It's been a while since I've seen you, my handsome bastard knight." She said and walked over to him elegantly, her padded slippers barely making a sound on the wooden floor.
"I had a bit of trouble in the Riverlands." He answered as her nimble fingers began plucking at the ties on his tunic.
"Oh I heard. Every man in every tavern was placing bets on who would kill who between you and the Kingslayer." Was her response, lifting his tunic over his head as she spoke.
Kayne had pondered that same question himself. Jaime was older but had more training, he could fight as well as Ser Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan Selmy. He supposed if he and Jaime had met in battle, it would have been a duel for the singers to write songs about for dozens of years. The bastard and the Kingslayer. If he had slain Jaime, Lord Tywin would not have rested until Kayne himself was dead. If Jaime had slain Kayne, Robert would not have rested until every Lannister was dead. It was lucky fate had prevented their clash.
"I do not want to talk about him now. I don't want to talk, I just want you." Kayne spoke gruffly.
"And how would you like me today?" Lyra asked and Kayne answered immediately.
"I don't care how, I just need relief." The golden haired whore nodded at his words and pulled her dress off over her head, showing she was completely bare underneath, her breasts swayed and jiggled as she discarded the dress to the floor. She stepped closer to him, stood up on her tip toes and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. His rough hands fell to her hips and he pulled her flush against him, her large, pillowy teats pressed right against his tunic.
Lyra's hands went to the ties of his breeches, loosening them just enough to pull out his cock. It throbbed with desire as her soft hands have it a few quick strokes, but Kayne needed more than that. He picked her up, his hands resting on her plump arse and she wrapped her arms and legs around him to support herself as he carried her over to the large featherbed he had become accustomed to using with her. Lyra kissed his neck and his jaw, giggling a little as his fuller beard tickled her soft skin. He had not had the chance to shave the thick hair since before the Hands Tourney.
He pushed such thoughts aside as he fell on the bed, Lyra below him giggling even more as her back made contact with the furs. Her arms and legs unwrapped from him and he knelt back, grabbing his cock at the base and guiding into her in one fluid thrust, making her moan out his name. Kayne threw himself forward, balancing himself on his forearms which lay either side of Lyra's head as he began to thrust. Usually he would want to take his time, gradually build up a pace, but usually he was not this desperate for the need to feel comforted. He set a fast pace from the start, pulling his hips back until just his tip remained inside the tight cunt of the big teat whore before slamming himself back in to the base.
Her legs lazily wrapped themselves around his hips, her arms doing the same around his shoulders, pulling him into her with every thrust. Lyra moaned out his name and all manner of filthy things below him as he pounded into her. He felt her teats jiggle and shake against his chest every time he slammed his cock into her warm, tight cunt. He looked down upon her face, scrunched up in pleasure and framed by her golden locks that spilled out across the pillow.
"YES YES YES SO GOOD!" She screamed as her nails dug into his back, Kayne leant down to kiss at her neck, as he knew she liked, and hissed against her soft, pale skin at the slight pain of her nails digging into his flesh. But he'd had worse pain in recent weeks. She switched between moaning his name like a chant, and pulling his face down to hers for heated kisses. Kayne loved both. Her moans made him feel desired, her kisses made him feel loved.
He was soon thrusting in and out of her at a hard and rough pace, he had no doubt that he would leave her a bit bruised and more than a little sore and aching, though he knew that was nothing new for her. Despite her profession, Lyra still felt so tight around him. So tight and warm and... comforting. Yes she was comfort to him. When he is inside her, or any woman he took too bed, he felt comforted and loved. That made it all the better for him.
Lyra's moans of encouragement grew louder and louder, the bed shook and creaked beneath them, though that sound was dim compared to the sound of flesh against flesh as Kayne pounded into his golden haired beauty, and the wonderful noises she made against his ear. All of it, her moans, her tight cunt, her legs and arms wrapped around him as if it were a comforting hug, all of it. It was all pushing him closer and closer to the edge, closer to spilling inside her, closer to that brief moment of true pleasure that he craved so. His own grunts and groans of pleasure joined Lyra's as he got closer and closer to spilling.
She must have noticed too for she pried her pretty eyes open and looked up at him with a smile.
"I can feel you twitching inside me. Go on, spill in me. Let it all out." Her sweet words and comforting voice set him off. He groaned and tensed, clutching the furs beneath him as he began to spill his virile seed inside her cunt that squeezed him, milking him. And as he spilled his seed inside her, he felt as if all of his stress and worry were spilling out of him too, if only for a short moment. That is what he craved, these brief moments of feeling loved, relaxed and desired. He had chased this feeling for years with Asha, though she did not return his love. But Asha was gone and now he chased that feeling with Ros, Marei and Lyra, at least whores did not turn down his plea for comfort and at the very least they pretended to love him.
Kayne's cock began to soften, and his arms gave out. He fell atop Lyra, his face between her teats and his rapidly softening cock slipping out of her cunt. She giggled, such a sweet sound he thought, before she gave his head a gentle shove.
"I'm sure you're very comfortable and I must admit you're nice and warm, but you're also quite heavy." She chuckled and Kayne gave her right nipple a quick nip before rolling off of her as they caught their breath.
He lay there in silence, listening to their hearts pounding in their chests and their gasps for air before Lyra spoke again.
"That was... unusual for you. Usually you like to take your time with me, watch my tits jiggle and make me peak." She said, not in a disappointed or accusing tone, but a sympathetic one.
"I... I'm sorry. I just needed relief." He murmured in response.
"What has you so stressed?" Lyra began gently running her forefinger over his muscled and scarred chest as she looked over at him, now laying on her side.
"My father has died leaving my shit of a brother on the throne, said shit just executed the Lord Paramount of the North who is also my uncle which has lead to an all out war. My other two uncles are both pressing their claims on the throne and soon I am going to have to choose between Stannis, Renly and Robb though if I choose any of them I will be leaving Tommen, Myrcella and Sansa in the clutches of the golden bitch Cersei and Joffrey who both would happily take my head at any moment." Kayne spilled out in one breath, speaking so rapidly he was surprised she had made out what he said.
"Fucking hell." Lyra said. "You should be a whore, life is much simpler." She suggested, serious or as a jape Kayne could not tell. His only response was an unimpressed huff. "Would my pretty lips around your cock make you feel any better?" She asked with a pout. Kayne nodded. His cock had risen back to half hardness and with Lyra's skilled mouth he knew he would be ready again in no time.
She began placing soft kisses down his body, starting with his lips and then his neck before moving further down and softly kissing each of his scars. He remembered how he got each one. The one on his right shoulder was from a melee at a tourney held at Storm's End, a knight from the Westerlands, who's name Kayne did not know, had been aiming for his neck but missed and hit the already fractured part of his armour. Robert had raged at that, though did nothing. The large one that went from his left shoulder down to his right nipple was from Victarion Greyjoy when Kayne had attempted to fight him at the battle of Fair Isle when he was but ten and two namedays old, as was the scar that ran across the right side of his face. Looking back he realised he was lucky to have come out of that alive. A few smaller scars and cuts that littered the rest of his arms and chest were from sparring with Ser Barristan. The old man was too kind to intentionally hurt him, but Kayne knew he had a problem with knowing when he was beaten, and so never yielded until he was on the floor or far too exhausted to carry on.
As Kayne reminisced about his combats and the resulting reminders on his body, Lyra had reached his cock, now almost fully hard and begging for her attention. She began to slowly place open mouthed kisses across his manhood before gently taking the tip into her mouth. She started off slowly with teasing sucks and licks on his tip until he was completely hard, his cock pointing up and throbbing with desperation at the wonderful sensations her mouth provided. He let out a soft moan, one of relief and pleasure, that grew louder as she began to take him more and more of his cock into her mouth and throat.
She slobbered all over his manhood and began gagging once she had taken half of his eight inches into her warm mouth. Lyra held herself down on him, gagging and slobbering on his cock for close to a minute, the sensation making Kayne throb and groan even more. She pulled herself off of him, leaving a shining line of her spittle attached from her full lips to his cock head, and smiled as she caught her breath.
"Gods you're amazing." Kayne said with a wide smile, leaning down to stroke her lovely soft hair out of her face before she lowered her mouth down again, taking in up to about half of his cock before she began bobbing her head up and down, hollowing her cheeks as she did so, as if she were trying to suck the seed right out of him.
Kayne lead his head back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the way that Lyra pleasured him. One of his hands gripped the furs beneath him while the other fell to the back of her head, softly stroking and threading his fingers through her long locks. As her talented mouth worked him, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge once again. His grip in her hair got a little tighter, her cheeks hollowed more, as if she were milking his cock. Then, just as his pleasure began to rise, she pulled back, letting the cool air get to his cock, sending shivers down his spine.
He looked down at her in frustration and annoyance, though she merely giggled.
"Come on, I'll drain your seed later, you could do with a bath. You smell of blood, sweat and dirt." She said. Kayne supposed she was right, he did tend to bathe regularly but he had not had the chance while riding through the Crownlands and Riverlands. Lyra stood up and walked to the corner of the room, his eyes fell on her arse as she walked away. It jiggled and bounced with each step she took away from him.
"How have I never noticed your amazing arse before?" Kayne asked as he followed her to a copper tub that now sat in the centre of the room, it must have been brought in while he was fucking Lyra.
"Because you spend far too much time paying attention to my teats." She replied, turning to face him as he reached the tub and slowly climbed inside. The water was the perfect temperature and soothed his aching muscles. He immersed himself in the water before Lyra climbed in atop him, grabbing a wet cloth to clean him as she sank back down onto his cock.
She rode him slowly, extremely slowly, washing and caressing his body as she did. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it. He had not slept well while travelling, plagued by horrifying dreams he did not understand. Dark crypts deep underground with the tombs of men long dead either side of him, their stone likenesses staring down at him, making him feel unwelcome amongst them. He had dreamt his usual nightmare too, the old tower in the Red Mountains of Dorne, the one where Rhaegar had kept him and his mother, he would stand outside it, listening to the only thing he could remember about her, her screams. He would rush towards the tower, dressed in the armour his father wore at the trident and wielding his Warhammer only to be blocked by a dragon. He would leap into the air, and bring his Warhammer down upon the beast. But every time it was too late. Every time, she was dead when he reached her.
Lyra made him forget all of that, all of his questions and hauntings, if even for a moment. He leaned forwards to bury his face between her teats as she rode him, making water spill out over the sides of the tub and onto the wooden floor below. He brought one hand to the apex of her thighs, finding the nub that brought women pleasure, and he began gently rubbing it in time with her bounces. When she finished washing him, she let the cloth drop to the soaked floor and brought her hands to his head instead, entangling her fingers in his messy black hair that flowed down to his shoulders, and held him in place at her teats.
It did not take long for them to reach their mutual climaxes, Lyra clenched around him even tighter and threw her head back, letting out screams of pleasure that brought Kayne pride as well as satisfaction of his own. As her cunt rippled around him, he tensed, and spilled inside her yet again. He placed soft, gentle kisses upon her teats before they dried and dressed.
Kayne turned to her then, pulling his tunic back on and speaking.
"How's Damion?" He asked after her son often and regularly brought gold to help raise the boy. He had blonde hair and hazel eyes so Kayne knew the boy was not his nor his fathers, yet he adored him all the same. He had an innocence that reminded him of Tommen, and a slight abrasiveness that reminded him of Arya.
"He is well. The goldcloaks scared him when they came but he was soon calmed after." Lyra explained, fiddling with a golden necklace that hung around her neck. A stag made of gold took its place in the middle of the golden chain, and sat between her teats. It was one of his numerous gifts to her and Marei over the years.
"He is getting old enough now to be taken as a squire." This was a topic Kayne had approached many a time and each time Lyra had the same answer.
"No. The life of a solider is far too dangerous for him." She said, her sweet tone fading into stubbornness.
"But what kind of a life is this for him? Living in a brothel surrounded by all sorts of unsavoury men who come to pay his mother a visit." Kayne countered.
"And you yourself happen to be one of those unsavoury men." Lyra smiled at herself for that display of her wit.
"At least I take care of you and yours. The boy would be safe with me-" he began again before she cut him off.
"Safe? There is a war dividing the realm you said so yourself. When you inevitably ride off to go and fight in some battle for the ugly chair your brother sits upon, you would take him with you and he would die. My father went off to war for King Robert, my son shall not die for his." She said with a sense of finality, though Kayne argued it anyway.
"What would he do to make gold when he is grown? Be a whore? Have some fat old Lord stick their cock in him?" He questioned, stepping closer to Lyra and standing, no towering, above her.
"It would be better for him to be a whore than a soldier if that is what he should wish when he is grown. A fat old lords cock being stuck in you is temporary, a dagger being stuck in you is not." Lyra finished and pushed passed him to begin remaking her bed, the furs they had left in a scrunched up mess on the end of the bed.
"Depends where you're stabbed." Kayne muttered under his breath, and then spoke again but louder. "I could give you a job as well. A servant or handmaiden. I shall need a household for when Summerhall is completed." He offered.
"And in the meantime live in the red keep?" Lyra asked, Kayne nodded, she shook her head. "No. It is far too dangerous, particularly at the moment with the ever looming threat of Lord Stannis attacking from Dragonstone, or Lord Renly attacking with the masses of The Reach behind him." She said, again, stubbornly.
"Aye and when their men attack which will be better guarded? The kings own seat or a brothel filled with pretty girls? If the city is sacked it will be a bloody and exhausting day for you." Kayne knew that was not entirely true, Stannis kept his men disciplined and there would be no rapes under his command, though he could not guarantee the same from Renly.
"My answer stays the same." Lyra concluded and Kayne knew there was no point arguing with her, so instead he approached her from behind, his hands on her wide hips and turned her around to face him.
"Damn you woman. You're as stubborn as you are pretty." He said and she smiled.
"Flattery won't get you up my skirts again." Was her reply to him.
"No but a few silvers will." Kayne japed before leaning in toward her.
He pressed his lips against hers for a passionate and dominating kiss. He brought one hand to cup her teat through her dress and his other remained on her hip. He pulled back when he heard the door to their room flung open, and in ran her son, Damion. He was around nine nameday's old, or near enough that age, with blonde hair the same as his mother's and wide hazel eyes that scanned the room as he ran in.
"KAYNE!" He yelled happily and ran towards him. Kayne smiled and ruffled his hair playfully. "Mama Yaya said to me that I have to ask you to play now." Lyra's son told her.
"Luckily for you me and Kayne had just finished chatting, so now I have time to spend with you my sweetling." She said.
"And Kayne too?" Damion asked, looking up at him.
"Lord Baratheon has other things to be doing I'm sure." Lyra answered for him. Usually Kayne would challenge that but this time at least, she was right.
"Aye. But I promise I will come back to see you again soon." He said with a smile, one which the boy returned before turning back to his mother.
Kayne said his goodbyes before leaving the two in peace and making his way back to the entrance of the brothel, Bronn was waiting outside, sharpening his dagger.
"Ros and Marei will be with you in a moment." Chataya told him with her usual friendly smile. Kayne took out another pouch of gold, heftier than the one he had given Bronn earlier and handed it to Chataya.
"I would like to fund your brothel." He said.
"I fund my establishment just fine." Was her reply and she slid the gold back to him.
"A man can never be too drunk, and a woman can never be too rich." Kayne countered, sliding the gold back once more.
This time she lifted the bag, weighed it in her hand and then turned to him curiously.
"In exchange for what?" She asked.
"Something far more valuable to me than gold. I would like secrets. I know men spill them to whores and I know they tell one another. I should like any secrets retaining to my uncles, my father, our King or his small council to come to me." Kayne bargained, and Chataya seemed to accept as she tucked the pouch of gold away.
"Done." She said and he smiled. The eunuch had his little birds and LittleFinger had some way of getting his information as well, now Kayne would begin a spy network of his own.
Ros and Marei approached, pulling him from any deeper thoughts. He turned to them both with outstretched arms and a smile, the smile they returned and his arms they fell into, gracefully accepting his hug.
"What in the seven hells happened? One moment you were inside me, next you bolted from the room and began fighting off the Kingslayer and his men." Marei said in a worrying tone.
"It is a complicated matter, and not why I am here now." Kayne began. "I would like to offer you both jobs working for me, a servants and informants, currently at the Red Keep and when Summerhall is restored to its former glory and the wars are all said and done, we shall go there. I will pay you well, and no longer will you have to suck ten cocks a day to make your gold." He offered.
"No, just yours I imagine." Ros japed in response.
"I will not pay you to do so but if you wish to stay in my bed it is always open for the two of you." He replied, a slightly cocky smile spreading on his face.
The two whores deliberated between one another for a few moments before ultimately deciding to agree. They walked back to the Red Keep with him and Bronn, just as the sun was beginning to retreat from the sky, darkness taking its place.