Solomon?

  He sighed as Cersei raked her nails sharply across his back again, drawing more of his blood. Out of all the women he's had in this world or the last, she was easily the most rapacious. One step removed from a succubus even.

  Still, he could only complain so much. Having a queen completely lose herself for a crumb of attention tickled a part of him pink, the loss of blood notwithstanding. It could even be confused for love.

  The idle thought amused him. He knew that Cersei didn't love him, only the idea of him. Even if the two were swiftly becoming one and the same with all his hard work.

  After spilling his seed for a third time tonight, she finally weakened with a sigh of utter contentment, leaving him free to retreat after gracing her breasts with a few kisses more. They had become even more impressive after these past few months.

  Lying down on his side, he trailed his fingers along the swell of her belly as she huffed and puffed. In another three or four months she would give birth, which meant it was only a scant few months until he had been here for a year…

  "Solomon," he heard her whisper. Her fingers tangled with his sweetly as she came back down to earth, her green eyes nervous as she cradled his palm to her belly. "They're rather spirited."

  At least one of them also had an impeccable sense of timing as they kicked at her words.

  "Would you expect anything less? We both possess a certain temperament."

  Comparing her to that idea of him greatly pleased her as it always did. It helped that he found some humor in her sheer narcissism.

  "I wanted to show you something," he continued, lighting a fire in her as she probably imagined some great sorcery, and for once she was right. "You've oft mentioned your mother. I thought I would let you see her again."

  Gingerly taking the mirror with wide eyes, she had undoubtedly already noticed its sorcery as it darkened the already dim room. With how much blood there was in it now, it even faintly thumped like a heart might.

  And he knew Cersei enough to know that soon her blood would join it.

  "You need only spill a few drops of blood," he repeated for yet another time. He offered the dagger to her as well.

  He watched with some satisfaction as she went about it, and soon she was lost in its embrace, leaving him with some peace and quiet. It had been a busy day, beginning with his sailing into the harbor on a ship with an onion on its sails.

  His thoughts soon crawled back to what he had brought up to the surface aboard another ship. And what a wonder it had been. He had more than one intrusive thought telling him to jump after the mermaid invited him to, but sense prevailed again.

  With curiosity like his, it had to be kept in check.

  "She was stolen from Jaime and I too soon," he heard with a sniff, though there was not even a tear upon her cheeks. "And now that little monster prances around daring to give me cheek."

  He bit back a sigh at her antics. Chiding her would do nothing for him.

  "I understand," he said instead, touching a hand to hers. "But with Maggy's curse weaker than ever, he has no more power over you than what you give him."

  She sighed as she snuggled into his side. "You are right."

  "You are your father's eldest child, Cersei. In Dorne you would have been his heir, and the same is true for the lands beyond the Sunset Sea."

  It was a good time to plant that seed, even if it wouldn't bloom or even sprout for some time.

  "I had always thought that one of the few things sensible about the Dornish. Jaime would rather his sword do the thinking, and yet my lord father would give anything to have him as his heir," she complained.

  "There is a new Age of Heroes coming," he told her as he toyed with her hair. "In a year's time a red comet will scream across the sky to herald it. You must look at it with hope, not fear. Tywin Lannister is not a man that would thrive in such an age, but you, Cersei? I see in you something of Lann the Clever."

  He could see his words were sweeter than the finest wine to her.

  "You will stay, won't you, Solomon? I could not bear for you to leave again."

  He kissed her brow. "I would not miss the birth of our children."

  A content smile found its way to her lips, and soon she slipped into the world of dreams. His mirror soon showed her seating a throne, a crown completely red with rubies upon hair as bright as the sun.

  He smiled at the sight as he carefully extricated himself, slipping out through the same passageway he used to visit her. He hadn't mapped them all yet despite all the time he had spent aboard the Valyrian as a cat or a rat, but that was fine. He had time, and if Varys made a move, he had more than a few tricks up his sleeves.

  Really, what kind of magician would he be otherwise?

  Back inside his own apartments, he sighed as he rested his head back on pillows soft as a cloud. After so many months aboard a ship that constantly rocked and heaved, it was bliss.

  He looked upon his mirror again, nothing out of the ordinary meeting him in the dreams of those who had given it their blood and partaken of its charms. Anything more would require blood he was not willing to part with.

  It had still come far in the days since it was a shadow of a glass candle that he intended to gift to the Hightowers.

  As he fell into a slumber himself, his consciousness spread out across the nocturnal life of the Red Keep again as he continued to map out the labyrinth beneath it. They had said of Bloodraven that he had a thousand eyes and one, something the man himself admitted was only slightly exaggerated. Solomon wasn't there yet, but he was nothing if not persistent.

  He only wished the decrepit greenseer had been more forthcoming with the drawbacks. There was always a price.

  With Valyrian sorcery, and indeed most sorcery, it was blood, whether it was your own or another's. With skinchanging, the deeper you went, the more you wore away at your own body, and it was already beginning to take a toll on his.

  Of course, it would have been worse had he also been gifted the greensight. If you were one of the few born with both, congratulations, you're a greenseer. Your body isn't long for the world though, so we hope you've always wanted to be a tree…

  In the morning, he broke his fast with Maegon and Halmar, the three of them playing some card games he had taught them.

  The two couldn't be more different. For one, Maegon was glib and eloquent with his tongue, while Halmar lacked one entirely. No surprise then that he was called Halmar the Mute.

  Obviously, he had been immediately suspicious. A tongueless ironborn suddenly wanting to enter his service? Come on.

  Halmar hadn't even been shy in confessing a grudge against Euron, claiming that it was the Crow's Eye who had torn out his tongue out all those years ago. It was why he had pledged himself to Asha, thinking the two were bound to come to blows at some point.

  Yeah, that sounded exactly like a story Euron Greyjoy would make up. And that very entertaining possibility was exactly why he agreed. Keep your enemies close and all that.

  Brienne soon joined them, though it wasn't hard to tell she wasn't exactly kosher with a slaver and a pirate in his service. In order to spare her much more discomfort, he left an unfinished plate as he stood with a smile and asked if she would come with him to the Tower of the Hand.

  "You don't approve," he commented as they began to ascend the stairs.

  Her cheeks reddened at the question as if it hadn't been obvious. She really was too good for this world.

  "Look at it like this. Maegon Laessaryon will not own another slave as long as he is within my service, and perhaps after also, for I will endeavor to show him that slavery is a most self-defeating enterprise. It is the poorest replacement for loyalty." He hummed then. "I am less certain about Halmar, but at least he will not rape and reave where my eyes see, and they see far indeed."

  "You needn't explain yourself to me," she quickly replied. "I know you are a good man."

  Ack. Right to the heart. She always found a way to make him feel guilty.

  He touched a hand to hers. "Not near as good as you, my lady."

  Eddard Stark was already waiting for them, his gray eyes keen. "My lord, my lady. Please, sit."

  Solomon met him with an easy smile. "I am at your disposal, Lord Hand."

  The northern lord nodded softly. "I should first offer my thanks for Petyr Baelish. The damage that man has done the crown is immeasurable."

  "I fear he has done much more than that. His brothels catered to many particular tastes. Children, for one."

  His jaw tightened at the news. "I see."

  "They have no doubt wisened up with his departure, and Lord of Dragonstone's return to the city especially. I can still name you his patrons, if you wish it. Though I warn you that many of them are lords."

  He somehow turned even more sour at that. "I will hear their names, but I can do nothing without proof. The realm would be put to the torch if it was known I acted on your word alone." There was a miserable sigh. "It might be put to the torch even had I proof. The lords are quick to respond to even a perceived attack on their rights."

  "But of course," Solomon soothed. "Though I should say your hand is stronger now than it was. You have the king's ear, yes? And Lord Renly has taken the gold cloaks to task. You need not even ask Lord Stannis to assist, for he will insist on it himself."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  And if some of those lords just so happened to not be able to bear the shame and threw themselves upon a sword, spilling their oh-so noble blood, well…

  "After the wildfire is dealt with then," the northern lord agreed. "You will be staying in the city?"

  "I will. Though I am certain you are curious as to the disappearance of the master of whisperers as well."

  By the time he was done, Eddard Stark looked like a man on his deathbed.

  "A hundred years and the Blackfyres still haunt the realm. The Others take them all."

  He decided against making a snide comment there lest he drive the man to drink.

  "You are a good man, my lord Hand. The realm let out a sigh of relief when you had taken the position."

  The northern lord looked almost uncomfortable at his praise. "I wish I could say the same."

  "Many a wise man would say that those most suited to power are those who did not ask for it." He could have mentioned his nephew as well, but then a certain cranky greenseer might have been annoyed for potentially throwing a wrench in his convoluted plans.

  Though maybe he wasn't one to judge…

  They descended the stairs this time. "That went well."

  Then again, were his own plans really all that convoluted? It had seemed more mad than anything he had done to try and prevent a war. Like trying to use scotch tape to plug the holes on the Titanic.

  A war where nothing really happened was much more inspired.

  Brienne had given a truer smile this time as he continued. "Though I fear the Lady Melisandre will not be as easy."

  But he was excited, just as he had been at the thought of Euron and when dealing with Bloodraven. There were few things that gave as much of a rush.

  Reaching her quarters in the Red Keep, he gave a polite knock, the door opening on the third. Her vividly red eyes burned into his immediately, the smell of smoke and spices intense.

  "You have come after all."

  "You wound me to have thought otherwise." There was a heavy brazier in her room that spat flames into the air, the smoke venting through two high windows. "Cozy," he commented.

  "Heat is a gift of the Lord of Light. As is life and all things good in this world."

  Brienne made a doubtful sound, but not him. Instead he neared closer to the brazier, allowing its heat to wash over him. "I have read and heard much of red priests and priestesses since coming here, but you are the first I have actually met, Lady Melisandre. Would you tell me more of the Lord of Light?"

  Her brows just as red as her hair scrunched in confusion. "You would learn?"

  "Happily. You see something of the future in the flames, mmm?"

  "As much as the Lord of Light allows."

  He nodded. "And yet not all of you agree on what they show. I don't believe your order in Volantis much agrees with your interpretations, my lady."

  "We are but specks of dust compared to R'hllor," she softly answered. "It is hard for us to understand."

  "Then let us look together."

  Her hand touched the ruby choker at her neck doubtfully. "His light might blind you if you are not prepared."

  "A risk I am willing to take, my lady." It was not as if he had taken no precautions.

  She threw a powder into flames that soon turned brighter and hotter, almost scalding his skin. The flames shifted unnaturally, but as the sun and the clouds slowly moved across the sky, there wasn't anything that he saw.

  "We can spend three days here and see nothing," the red priestess admitted with some amusement. "We can only watch and wait and hope the Lord of Light takes notice."

  "There perhaps I might give him a reason to look." That same madness took hold of him as he removed his trusty dagger from the yellow cloth. "Have you never tried?"

  Her red eyes reflected the flames not unlike the ruby around her neck. "While R'hllor values what of ours we give to him, it is only the grandest of fools that think they are owed anything for it."

  "As you say, my lady." He had not spilt too much blood since the time he had thrown it into the sea in anticipation of this moment.

  As he cut himself open, he looked into the flames with maybe a smile unhinged. And when his blood touched the coals, the brazier erupted in light that scoured the room.

  He stubbornly stared even as it seared his eyes, and in it he saw the Long Night, a wound in the heavens opened wider by the sins of men. It waxed and it waned, and in a few years it would gape open again, smothering the world in darkness.

  There was a burning sword in the hands of a man, a dragon beneath a woman, and also…

  The harsh light slowly ebbed, the flames that had reached so high as to touch the ceiling retreating as well. He was tempted to spill his blood again when he saw that the token he had made had turned to ash in his pocket. Annoying… but at least he was otherwise unharmed.

  "So much," he heard the red priestess whisper. Her eyes stared feverishly at the flames. Her whispers soon turned to something barely comprehensible.

  Brienne had turned away just as he advised, though she still looked uneasy as her big blue eyes met his. A sigh of relief soon joined her unhappy frown at seeing him whole.

  "You are not from any lands beyond the Sunset Sea," Melisandre accused behind him.

  Solomon turned back to her with another smile. "I am not," he admitted. "I will join you again tomorrow, Melony. The Lord of Light has much to show me, it would seem."

  He very much enjoyed her surprise and uncertainty, drinking it in just as greedily Cersei had drunk his words last night. Then he left with Brienne at his back.

  When they stood under the sun again, another whimsy took him as he took her hand. "I ask your forgiveness for worrying you."

  Her cheeks reddened again. "You had forewarned me. There is nothing to forgive."

  "Yet still I feel guilty. I do not wish you to think you cannot speak freely."

  "I do not think so," she mumbled as she looked away. "But if you wish my forgiveness, you have it."

  "Thank you." He pressed his lips to the back of her hand softly. "Then will you join me for a ride outside the city?"

  Her eyes returned to meet his, her blush worsening as she understood what he was hinting at. "I don't… I mean… I have already forgiven you, Solomon. You needn't…"

  "This is not about need. I want to. Or will you refuse me? I understand if you would."

  He was terrible, wasn't he? She looked fit to faint at the quick succession of his words. Rather than speak, she nodded jerkily, accompanying him to the stables.

  Soon they thundered across the fields of green outside King's Landing, a much more pleasant sight than the stinking, rotting city. His eyes soon found a bird, and through her eyes he found a glade with a stream for their horses to drink from.

  The ride there seemed to have cleared her head, but as he asked her to join him on the soft grass, she turned into a mess again. "There is nothing you can say or do to make me think less of you," he told her. "Do not dwell on the fools who mocked you, for your misery is their joy."

  After a breath she joined him, though her eyes still hesitated to meet his. "I do not understand," she whispered. "There are many knights my better, and you have eyes to see I am no beauty."

  "I cannot think of one knight kinder. Nor can I think of one lady with a heart as gentle." He took her hand again with a smile. For all his many flaws, he was not so blind as to put outer beauty over inner. And for all he aped kindness with ease, it did not mean he was incapable of it. "I only ask that you be honest with me."

  "W-What do you mean?" Her eyes slowly, nervously, met his. If he only looked at them, then she was a beauty on the outside as well.

  "My lady, how blind do you think I am?"

  She scratched at a freckled cheek nervously. "You are handsome and kind…"

  "That is kind of you to say."

  God, she looked as red as an apple now. "I would… I mean… I would not be against a kiss."

  She looked as if she wanted to vanish into the ground after she said it, but then she went as still as a rabbit when he pulled her closer by her hand, and quick as lightning he kissed her, her lips not dainty, yes, but they were soft as anything.

  Her eyes had closed when he retreated. "Was that so bad?" he teased.

  They fluttered open again as if she had been a world away. "B-Bad? That is the farthest thing from how I would describe it." Her words were soft and hard to hear, but that only made her all the more adorable.

  "Then should I give you another?"

  "If it would please you," she replied with utmost courtesy.

  "It would." He didn't mind playing at the perfect gentleman for her. If anyone deserved it, it was her.

  He kissed her again, and she didn't fight him as he lowered her to the grass and kissed her some more. He could have easily convinced her to let him do more, could have had her mewling as he seeded her womb with a third child, or even had her grunting up a storm as he took her from behind like an ironborn princess he could name. But that wouldn't fit how she had dreamed this should happen, so he did not.

  After all he'd done these past months, and all he planned to do, moments like these were important. Without them, it would be all too easy to lose his humanity.