Castor had sent Jeren to sleep in the servants' quarters—he wanted privacy.
He'd bathed, changed into loose sleeping clothes, and was reviewing some papers by candlelight when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside.
Light
Hesitant
Someone who shouldn't be there.
The knock was soft, barely audible.
Curious, Castor opened the door.
A girl stood there—young, maybe sixteen, red hair, frightened eyes. She wore a servant's dress and clutched a bundle of linens like a shield.
"My lord," she whispered. "I—I brought fresh linens. For your bed."
At midnight. When he'd already been provided linens hours ago.
Castor smiled slightly. Someone had sent her. Probably the steward, trying to curry favor by offering the honored guest a warm body. Or perhaps she'd come on her own, hoping to catch a young lord's attention.
Either way, opportunity had arrived at his door.
"What's your name?" he asked quietly.
"Kyra, my lord."
"Come inside, Kyra."
She hesitated, then crossed the threshold. He closed the door behind her, barred it with deliberate slowness so she'd hear the finality of that sound.
She set the linens down with shaking hands. "I can just... I'll just change the bed and—"
"No." His voice was soft but absolute.
"You didn't come here to change linens at midnight."
She turned to face him, eyes wide. "My lord, I—"
"Who sent you? The steward? Or did you come yourself?"
Her face colored. "I... I heard the visiting lord was young and... and handsome, and I thought—"
"You thought you'd try your luck." He stepped closer, using his height to dominate the space. "Well. Here I am. Was I worth the risk?"
She couldn't seem to find words.
Castor circled her slowly, assessing.
She wasn't beautiful—pretty enough, the way serving girls sometimes were, but nothing remarkable. Slim figure, small breasts, nervous energy.
Young and foolish and here.
"Have you done this before?" he asked.
"No, my lord! I'm... I've never..."
"A maiden, then." He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Do you know what happens now, Kyra?"
She swallowed hard. "I... I thought you might... want..."
"I do want." His hand came up, traced her jaw. She trembled but didn't pull away.
"The question is whether you understand what you're offering."
"I just thought... a young lord might be... kind..."
"Kind." He smiled, and it wasn't kind at all. "Is that what you think I am?"
Before she could answer, he gripped her chin, forced her to keep looking at him. "Let me be clear. You came to my chambers at midnight. You're alone with me. The door is barred. If you scream, no one will come—Lord Stark's guests aren't disturbed for the cries of servants." He let that sink in.
"So we're going to do this. And you're going to be quiet and obedient. And tomorrow, you'll say nothing. Do you understand?"
Tears gathered in her eyes. "Please, my lord, I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did. You came here hoping for something. Now you'll get exactly what you asked for."
He released her chin, gestured toward his bed. "Take off your dress."
"My lord—"
"Now."
Her hands shook as she unlaced her dress, let it fall.
The shift beneath was thin, showed the outline of her body. He watched without expression as she hesitated, then pulled that off too.
Naked, she tried to cover herself. He caught her wrists, pulled them down.
"Don't hide. I want to see what I'm getting."
She was shaking now, tears streaming silently. He examined her clinically—small breasts, narrow waist, the dark hair between her legs untouched by any man. Young and frightened and his.
"On your knees."
"Please—"
"On. Your. Knees."
She sank down, sobbing quietly. He unlaced his sleeping clothes, let them fall, and watched her eyes widen at the sight of his cock—already hard, thick, bigger than she'd probably imagined.
"Open your mouth."
"I don't know how—"
"You'll learn." He gripped her hair, guided her forward. "Just don't bite."
He fed his cock into her mouth slowly, feeling her gag and choke as he pushed deeper. She tried to pull back but he held her in place, forcing her to take it.
"Relax your throat," he commanded. "Breathe through your nose."
She tried, gagging again, tears and spit running down her chin. He didn't care. Just used her mouth rhythmically, not hard enough to make her vomit but enough to make her struggle.
"That's good," he said quietly. "See? You're learning already."
When her jaw was aching and her face was a mess, he pulled out, lifted her to her feet, and pushed her toward the bed.
"On your back. Spread your legs."
She climbed onto the bed, trembling, and obeyed because what choice did she have? He positioned himself between her thighs, looked down at her tear-stained face.
"This will hurt," he said, almost conversational. "You're a maiden. But it hurts less if you don't fight."
"Please don't—"
He pushed in anyway.
She screamed, muffled by his hand clamping over her mouth. He felt her maidenhead tear, felt blood slick his cock as he buried himself to the hilt. She sobbed beneath him, body rigid with pain.
"Shh," he said, still covering her mouth. "Quiet, or I'll make it worse."
He gave her a moment to adjust, then began to move. Slow thrusts at first, letting her stretch, feeling her walls clench around him. She whimpered with each stroke but didn't scream again.
"There," he murmured. "Not so bad, is it?"
It was a lie. It was clearly terrible for her. But he didn't care. He fucked her steadily, methodically, chasing his own pleasure while she lay beneath him crying.
When he was close, he pulled out, spent himself across her stomach and breasts, marking her with his seed.
She lay there, shaking and bleeding, staring at nothing.Castor stood, found a cloth, tossed it to her.
"Clean yourself."
She did, mechanical movements, still crying silently.He dressed, crossed to where his coin purse lay, pulled out two silver pieces, along with a coin bearing flayed man.
Dropped them on the bed beside her.
"One for your service. One for your silence. And this one it represents my ownership" He waited until she looked at him.
"You came here. You chose this. If you tell anyone—Lord Stark, anyone—I'll tell them you tried to seduce me for money. Who do you think they'll believe? The honored guest or a serving girl?"
Fresh tears spilled over, but she nodded.
"Get dressed. Leave. If I see you again, pretend you don't know me. Afterward follow the path to my host show that coin and climb into the wagon."
She gathered her clothes with shaking hands, dressed clumsily, and fled without looking back.Castor barred the door behind her, washed himself in the basin, and returned to bed.
Ned Stark's hospitality. So generous. Even provided entertainment without knowing it.
He fell asleep easily, dreamless and satisfied.