WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐈𝐗. streets

The brothel was stuffy and full of scantily clad women. Ned beside him made an effort to be respectful and not look closely at anyone.

"Excuse me, Ser Riverfall. Not much to your taste?" Littlefinger asked, hiding his teasing behind a seemingly charming expression.

Anrir gave Littlefinger a smug smile. "Oh, you are forgiven. The women in the capital are not to my taste," Anrir leaned down to get level with Littlefinger's ear, "Where are you hiding your men? I can't imagine you with a woman, not by a long shot. Without offending you."

"You don't," Baelish insisted, returning Anrir's hypocritical smile," I prefer the company of women, but if you want to know where to find men, I can recommend a brothel down the street."

"So you know your way around, I suspected as much. You can buy sex. But maybe you should get yourself some friends. That could do you good. Counteracts unpleasant character traits."

Baelish looked as if he wanted to say something, but Ned intervened and interrupted their exchange. Anrir smiled serenely at Littlefinger before turning away from the smaller man and looking into Ned's face.

"Why am I here, Baelish?" the Northman sighed.

"Come."

Littlefinger took them to a room partitioned off by delicate curtains. Moans came from somewhere in the brothel and sweat ran down Anrir's back. He had only been to a brothel once in his life, with Robert, when he had just turned fourteen. It had been in the Vale and Robert had insisted on giving Anrir a few hours with a woman. In the end, they had only talked, about the woman's two daughters, her run-down house. Anrir had promised her that he would help rebuild the small hut. Back in the Eyrie, he had still not slept with a woman, but had persuaded his father to help the woman.

His heart ached tenderly at the memory.

His father had never questioned him, had always trusted him. He missed him incredibly. And he missed the security of his youth before the rebellion.

He tore himself away from his memories and forced himself to turn to the present.

A pretty young woman was sitting in the room, a baby in her arms, gurgling softly. It didn't take Anrir long to realize that this was another of Robert's bastards. He left Ned to talk to the young woman while he himself tried to imagine his father being here and.... Yes, what exactly had he done?

His father had not been a stupid man, but neither had he been one to get lost in conspiracies. But whatever he had discovered had apparently brought him death. Tears of Lys. Anrir swallowed hard at the sadness gathering in his throat. This feeling was quickly replaced by anger. His father might still be here, but someone had taken him from Anrir. His fingers tightened around Beast's hilt.

Baelish had not come into the room with him and so Anrir could allow himself to hold his gaze a little longer on Ned, who spoke quietly but insistently to the young woman. Ned didn't fit in here any more than Anrir did, though probably for different reasons.

At some point Ned broke away from the conversation and joined Anrir, who obediently moved from his position leaning against the wall and walked with him to the curtain. They remained close to each other so that the words exchanged between them actually stayed between them.

"Another bastard."

Anrir snorted, "Robert is very... potent. Poor Cersei."

"Anrir," Ned admonished softly, killing the spark of humor with which Anrir had spoken the words. He let the smile disappear from his lips and matched Ned's expression.

"My father will have suspected this beforehand. The entire kingdom probably suspected something like this, no one would poison him for something like this. It doesn't make sense. Besides, Robert has three heirs."