Dont forget to comment and vote, its makes me happy ...
read full story in patreon : CaveLeather (9$)
The night wind blew in from the lake, carrying the sharp chill of deep autumn.
Cersei crouched in the bushes, her three-hundred-gold-dragon deep-green silk gown soaked through with dew. Mud and crushed leaves clung to the hem, strands of hair stuck to her face, and her carefully applied makeup had run with sweat.
She didn't care. Her eyes were locked on the two figures by the water.
Corleone and that bitch Margaery Tyrell.
They stood close together in the moonlight.
A triumphant little smile curved Cersei's lips. Her green eyes glittered with vicious excitement.
So it's true…
That Sand Snake girl hadn't lied. The farmer really was fucking the Tyrell bitch.
Cersei forced herself to stay still. Not yet. Wait until they do something more. Wait until the proof is undeniable.
Then the two figures suddenly stepped apart.
Cersei's smile froze.
She watched, stunned, as Corleone said something to Margaery. The queen turned and walked back toward her carriage without a backward glance. Corleone simply stood there for a moment, then started walking toward the burning castle in the distance.
They were leaving.
Just like that.
Cersei's mouth opened. "They're just… leaving?"
She couldn't believe it. She had hidden in these damn bushes for what felt like hours, been bitten by mosquitoes, ruined an expensive dress, and all she got was two people having a polite conversation?
"What the fuck was that?"
Before she could process the disappointment, Tyene's voice came from behind her, sharp with alarm.
"Fire!"
Cersei spun around.
Stokeworth was burning.
Thick black smoke billowed into the sky. Orange flames licked up the ancient stone walls, painting the night red. The thousand-year-old castle was going up like dry tinder.
Cersei's face twisted with rage.
The fire. That was why they'd separated. The damn fire had ruined everything.
She bit down so hard she thought her teeth might crack.
So close. So fucking close.
She forced herself to breathe. Think. Get out of here first. Regroup.
She pushed up from the bushes and started walking fast toward the carriage, skirts dragging through the wet grass.
Behind her, Tyene and Sarella called out, "Wait for us, Your Grace!"
Cersei ignored them. Her mind was a storm of frustration and fury. That bastard Corleone. That little Tyrell whore. This cursed night.
She was so focused on her own rage that she didn't notice the shadows moving until it was too late.
A strong arm wrapped around her from behind. Something pressed against her face — a cloth soaked in something sweet and cloying. Cersei barely had time to struggle before the world tilted and went dark.
---
When she opened her eyes again, everything was blurry.
She was lying on her back in the grass. Cold dew soaked through her dress. Her head throbbed. Something wet was being poured into her mouth.
Cersei coughed and tried to turn her head, but someone was holding her jaw open.
Obara Sand.
The eldest Sand Snake was crouched over her, pouring liquid from a waterskin into her mouth. The waterskin had a golden rose embroidered on the leather.
"Easy," Obara said calmly. "Drink it all."
Cersei tried to speak, but only managed a weak gurgle as more liquid went down her throat.
Tyene and Sarella stood nearby, watching.
"These northerners make everything so complicated," Sarella muttered.
Tyene nodded. "In Dorne we just stab people. Or poison them. Or both. Much simpler."
Obara finished emptying the waterskin and stood up, wiping her hands on her trousers.
"Done," she said. "Let's go find somewhere to watch the show."
The three Sand Snakes grinned at each other — the same sharp, vicious grins their father used to wear.
They dragged something — or someone — out of the deeper shadows and left it beside Cersei's unconscious body. Then they slipped away into the night like they'd never been there.
---
On the road to Stokeworth, fifty Gold Cloaks rode hard under Commander Adam Marbrand.
Adam was in a foul mood.
He had been pulled out of a very comfortable bed in a very expensive brothel on the Street of Silk. Two Lyseni girls. Top quality. He had been looking forward to a long, pleasant evening.
Instead he was riding through the cold night with fifty tired men because the Queen Regent had decided tonight was the perfect time to investigate child trafficking at Stokeworth.
Bullshit.
Balman Byrch might be a fat, washed-up old knight, but even he wasn't stupid enough to run a child-smuggling ring out of his own wife's ancestral castle. The profit wasn't worth the risk.
Adam's second-in-command, Humfrey Waters, rode up beside him.
"My lord," Humfrey said carefully, "do you really think House Stokeworth is involved in the missing children? Balman's making good money these days. Why would he risk everything for a few peasant brats?"
Adam shot him a look. "The Queen Regent gave the order. We follow it."
Humfrey wisely shut his mouth.
Adam exhaled, watching his breath mist in the cold air. The moon was nearly full, bright enough to see the empty fields on either side of the Kingsroad. Harvest was over. Only dry stalks remained, rattling in the wind.
He was still thinking about Jaime Lannister when one of his men suddenly pointed ahead.
"My lord! Look!"
Adam followed the man's finger.
In the distance, orange light was climbing into the sky.
Fire.
Stokeworth was burning.
The Gold Cloaks began to murmur. Adam raised a hand for silence and stared at the growing flames.
Coincidence?
Or had someone gotten word and decided to burn the evidence?
He didn't have time to decide. He drew his sword.
"All of you!" he shouted. "We ride hard! If they're destroying evidence, we stop them. If it's an accident, we help put it out. Either way — move!"
Fifty horses surged forward.
Adam rode at the front, wind tearing at his cloak, eyes fixed on the burning castle. He didn't know what he was riding into, but he knew one thing for certain:
Something was very wrong tonight.
---
They arrived to chaos.
Flames roared from multiple windows of the ancient castle. Servants and guards were running around in panic, buckets of water being passed in a desperate line that was clearly too little, too late.
But that wasn't what made Adam pull his horse to a sudden, hard stop.
It was the sound.
Low, rhythmic, unmistakable sounds coming from a thick patch of bushes near the lake.
Adam stared.
Fifty Gold Cloaks stared with him.
In the grass, illuminated by both moonlight and the distant fire, two naked bodies were tangled together.
One of them was instantly recognizable.
Golden hair spread across the ground. Pale skin glowing in the moonlight. The once-Queen Regent. The mother of the king. The daughter of Casterly Rock.
Cersei Lannister.
On top of her — or under her, it was hard to tell in the tangle — was a man Adam also recognized.
Osney Kettleblack.
The younger brother of one of his own captains.
The two of them were enthusiastically, loudly, and very publicly fucking in the grass while Stokeworth burned behind them.
For several long seconds, no one spoke.
Then one of the younger Gold Cloaks whispered, voice full of awe, "Seven hells… that's the Queen Regent."
Another man let out a low, impressed whistle before someone elbowed him hard in the ribs.
Adam sat frozen on his horse, sword still half-raised from the charge.
He had ridden through the night expecting to find evidence of child trafficking, or at least a burning castle that needed saving.
Instead he had found the Queen Regent getting railed in the bushes like a common whore while her supposed allies' ancestral home went up in flames.
What the actual fuck.
One of his men cleared his throat. "My lord… should we… wake them?"
Adam looked at the man like he had grown a second head.
Wake them? And say what? "Pardon me, Your Grace, but your castle is on fire and half my men are watching you fuck"?
He turned back to the scene in the grass. Cersei's moans were getting louder. Osney was grunting like he was trying to win a contest.
Adam closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and made his decision.
He sheathed his sword.
"Form a perimeter," he ordered quietly. "No one goes near them. No one leaves. If anyone so much as looks like they're going to laugh out loud, I will personally cut their tongue out."
The Gold Cloaks immediately turned their horses and spread out, forming a loose ring around the area. Most of them kept their backs politely turned.
Most of them.
A few risked quick glances over their shoulders, eyes wide.
Adam stayed where he was, staring at the burning castle instead of the bushes.
After a long moment, Humfrey rode up beside him again.
"My lord," he said carefully, "what do we do?"
Adam let out a long, tired breath.
He could hear Cersei getting louder behind him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Let them finish first," he said flatly. "Then we'll figure out what the fuck is going on."
Humfrey blinked, then nodded slowly.
"Yes, my lord."
He turned his horse and rode off to organize the men.
Adam stayed where he was, back straight, eyes on the fire, trying very hard not to listen to the increasingly enthusiastic sounds coming from the grass twenty feet behind him.
This kingdom, he thought wearily, is completely fucked.