#poker face domeric poker face

[visxionaries]

who: @domericstone when and where: the tourney celebrating the coronation of king jaehaerys targaryen, moments before the king graham royce of the vale is unseated by a mystery knight. in some moments, it will be clear there was foul play and intention at hand here. the men are getting onto their horses and readying their equipment. what: at this moment in time, cedric tyrell found himself in discussion with lord domeric stone - of the vale. or the north. both men remain unaware of what was about to happen.

the tiltyard was a different sort of game, and one that cedric tyrell was not the most talented at: whilst all men in the reach were trained in the arts of chivalry that made up the essentials of knighthood, there were only a number that truly meant it. it was something he often heard the high commander ranting over, the nature of those who earned their knighthood instead of those who had simply been purchased - it mattered little to cedric. in fact, it did not matter at all; there was little difference between how notions of romanticised knighthood impacted both men and women alike.

the crowds were vast, the seating high, though cedric found himself amongst the sides of the track, one of the many men who cheered on lord florent. the annoyance at his face continued to amuse him to no end as he patted the man's mare.

and in some spaces beside them were the vale faction, a matter that was a bigger deal to the knights of the reach rather than the king himself: all knew of the rivalry that came between the two regions when it came to the matter of chivalry and knighthood, the history and the essence behind it. time passed, and as men continued to speak, cedric tyrell found himself within the group wishing luck to the king consort of the vale - including the likes of the master of coin. a man whose name will go down in legends equated to a name uttered to scare children into scrambling into their beds.

"truthfully, we are still in the process of banking internally. we have investments within the iron bank that remain; though house hightower has established a bank of it's own. it is a slow process of transference - move too quickly, and the whole thing will come falling down." cedric tyrell believed himself more than able to read facial expressions, to grasp a good judgement of people and yet this one - there was an exception here. and it quietly bothered him, regardless of the conversation that passed between them.

"there comes advantage in owing debts to banners, rather than a power across the sea. i suspect matters would be dealt with far quicker." the iron bank were known to not enjoy waiting. they too, did not appreciate debts not being paid. there was one thing he could grasp about the master of coin, and that was the fact he detested meaningless discussion. meanwhile to cedric, no conversation was truly meaningless; there was always something to gage from a situation, or an individual. especially from one as shifty as domeric, whom had seemingly had many names, many positions, and many reputations.

the discussions continued as the jousts continued, pausing to view the tilts and the clashes each time they roared through the air. "how have you found aiding the north in their repayment of the iron bank?" cedric asked, his question pointed - considering all had heard of the way in which the three sisters had involved themselves by looting a manderly vessel. then there was an ominous silence from the sisters, according to the reports of his mistress of whispers. and he listened as domeric began to respond, his arms crossed against the blue of his tunic as he leaned against a wooden stand; when he heard it. the clash, and the gasp.

glancing to the direction of the shock, he realised what was happening. the king consort of the vale had rolled away from the incoming stampede of hoofs, and then suddenly the image was blurred by the dust that was kicked up by the horses. what he saw, was a large group of nobles stand; knights of the vale pretty much lept over their stands, rushing like the sea onto the track. cedric remained silent, clearly watching the scene unfold.

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang!: Guilty (Ch.12)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You are now a full-fledged member of the Red Kings. After your first successful mission, Domeric comes with troubling news: they’re being watched and there’s a mole among them. The Red Kings, Ramsay, and You now stand against a new enemy: Stannis Baratheon, a high ranking FBI member out to seek justice who may have his own dark secrets he’s trying to hide.

In this next part of the series, you will be tested, face old enemies, and encounter faces you’d thought you’d never see again. You thought you were safe, but the game has just begun.

Words: 2835 // Ao3 Link

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Out of all the places Ben could have sent you, he sent you here. To a house you have never seen before. To your own father. You watched your father’s face turn white from the shock. He grabbed onto the door to steady himself and cleared his throat.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked.

“It’s me, yeah.” You nodded your head. Your vision blurred from the tears that fell down your face. Strong arms pulled you in and hugged you tight. Relief and security washed over you as you buried yourself in your father’s chest. It had been too long. You thought nothing of it before, but now you felt too many emotions at once.

Guilt. Sadness. Anger. Confusion. Love. Curiosity. Anxiety. They came in waves and washed you ashore. You weren’t drowning in the Red Kings’ ocean anymore. You were safe in No Man’s Land with your father.

He pulled you inside from the cold and dark night. Inside, you saw a normal home. Television played late night news in the background of the living room. The dining room was covered in notes, old mail, and an unfinished game of chess. The kitchen’s lights turned on when your father stepped into it.

“Coffee. Do you want me to make you some coffee? Do you drink coffee?” he asked you. You nodded with enthusiasm as you wiped the tears from your face. He took another look at you, walked over to you, kissed your head, and walked back to the kitchen. You didn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen you in years.

A warm mug filled with cream, sugar, and local coffee tingled your hands. You took a long sip from it and faced your father. He had wrinkles in new places that you didn’t remember. Still the same old glasses. Still the same old white socks with a hole by the pinky toe. Both of you sat in silence waiting for the other to say something.

“How did you get here?” he asked you. You took a long and slow breath. Your story was first.

“I’m not sure how honest you want me to be with that,” you told him.

“Tell me,” he said. “You have no idea how many nights of sleep I’ve lost over you. I missed you. What happened?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you the obvious. Why I ran away,” you confessed. “Why I up and left you guys.”

“No,” your father shook his head in shame. “I know why. Where did you go?”

“I went to L.A. and then Vegas. And then New York. I went to a lot of places,” you explained. “Me and Kelly ran off to L.A. We got stupid jobs and then we— You swallowed hard. The memories were so long ago now. Four years could be a long time to some, but it still seemed so short to you. You remembered the wallpaper in that room. You remembered how unbothered Kelly was. You could hear Hugo’s voice speaking a different language. You remembered the gun that pointed at Kelly first.

Then you remembered Petyr’s hand reaching out to you. Saving you. How time flies.

“Go on,” your father leaned forward. “What happened in L.A.?”

“No, I-we went to Vegas. Kelly had a boyfriend named Hugo. He pimped us out to his friends and his people. Hugo took us into a room where a bunch of mob men played a secret poker game. Half of the room was filled with cigar smoke. All of them were really unhappy with him. So, they pulled out a gun and they—

Your voice trailed off. You bit your lip down hard.

“So, that’s what happened, hm?” your father said. “I remember Kelly’s body coming home to her parents. Your mother and I still lived next to them. We went to the funeral, but they never spoke of what happened. I always thought she overdosed from drugs. Murder. That’s…rough.”

You nodded your head and kept going. “I met a man. A powerful man that night. His name was Petyr Baelish. He took me in and made me his favorite.”

“Favorite? His mistress?”

“No, Petyr ran an escort business. We were called his pretty birds, and I was one of the favorites.”

Your father sat back. His hands ran down his face, digesting the story you told him. Most fathers would berate or punish their daughters for doing sex work. Your father closed his eyes and exhaled. The chair creaked when he left the seat and turned around. He reached for two glasses and an unopened bottle of whisky. He and poured the amber liquid into a glass in front of you and double for himself.

“Sex work. Gangs. Did you ever get arrested?”

“No.” you shook your head. “I was always careful. Petyr had the police in his pocket.”

“And how did you get here? Are you in trouble?”

You sighed. The weight of your story here got heavier with every question he asked. You looked away from him, contemplating what to say.

“Tell me, Y/N. I can protect you. I can help you. Let me help.”

“Dad, it’s not that simple. I got involved with the wrong kind of people.” “Yeah? Tell me who they are. I can take care of it.”

“No, no. Dad, you don’t understand. These people are fucking awful. They kill people every day. They don’t deal in drugs. They’re not a mob. They are assassins, Dad. If you go after them, you’re done.”

“Tell me who they are,” your father slowly blinked, completely unbothered by what you told him.

“Did you just hear anything I said?”

“I did. I am telling you that I can take care of it.”

You squinted at your father and scoffed. You huffed and stood up from the chair. You lifted your shirt and pointed to your left side. A large black tattoo peeked from your jeans.

“I’m one of them! They’re called the Red Kings. They are the underbelly’s assassins. They-they killed the Starks. That rich family? The ones who ran Winterfell Inc? They were responsible for the Red Wedding, Dad. You can’t fuck with these people!” You yelled at him. You felt tears tug at your eyes. One of them escaped down your cheek.

The chair creaked again as your father sat back. He made his amber liquid disappear and poured himself some more spirits. He started to laugh, but then he closed his mouth. He shook his head and looked back at you, smiling.

“You think this is funny?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t. You’ve been through a lot in the past five years since I’ve seen you. I’m sorry. I think it’s time I explain a couple of things to you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you threw your arms in the air.

“Like how I knew your mother had been cheating on me since you were young,” your father chuckled. You felt yourself sink back into your seat, feeling dread creeping into your toes.

“You knew? You knew all long?”

Your mind flashed back to your tenth birthday. Lilly’s terrible singing voice shouted louder than everyone’s. Your Uncle took pictures of you with his expensive camera. You blew on your candles and wished your father was there.

It wasn’t until you looked to the right of you. You wished you didn’t see it.

Your mother’s arms were wrapped around another man’s. His mouth was on hers. They buried themselves into one another right in the next room. It seemed like you were the only one who saw. Then again, you knew adults to be deceitful maybe your Uncle ignored what was happening. The sight of it shocked you to the core, and your father told you that he knew. He knew all of this time.

“I did. Your mother and I didn’t get along too well. We tried hiding it from you, but…that didn’t work out now, did it?”

“You can’t be serious right now. How could you? How could you know and not do anything about it?”

“It was for the best. I caught her before we had you. After you, things changed.”

“What-I-what?” you reacted. “What else are you hiding from me?”

“Y/N, calm down.”

“No! What else are you hiding? Do you know how much that fucked me up? You go away on business trips all of the time. Mom brought over all of her boyfriends. One of them looked at me weird. And they would fuck. Mom always bought me shit to keep quiet. And here you are! You already knew! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

“Oh now, it’s not that simple. It was simple when I told you that I’m on the run from assassins, but now it’s not simple because you knew Mom was fucking other guys.”

Your father sighed and finished his second drink. It reminded you of your own You tossed it back and felt the burn in your throat. Fuck. Of all the shit your father hid from you, this one fucking hurt. You wanted to lose it.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“Too much,” your father confessed. A long sigh left his mouth as he looked down. It was his turn to be ashamed. “We hid too much from you. I kept telling your mother that. You were always a little too clever like me. What do you want to know?”

“Did you cheat on mom too? All of those business trips?”

“No. Never once,” your father shifted in his seat. “I loved your mother, but I also loved my job. Things changed when you came along. I wanted to be a real father. I wanted to be here as much as I could.”

“And yet, you were away so damn much.”

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice? That sounds like bullshit.”

“I know it does, but I need you to believe me,” your father pleaded with you. He ran his hand through his long hair. “I’ve lied to you about what I do for a living. I’m not a business man.”

“Oh?” you reacted, not at all surprised. Your father stood up and started to head towards the stairs. You followed him up as he spoke.

“When your mother and I started getting serious, she made me promise that I had to leave my past life. I wanted a family, but I wanted to keep my job. I love my job. Your mother didn’t think it would be safe for me to continue. So, we made a deal. I could keep my job, but I was to leave you out of it. I went on ‘business trips’ for my job, but that’s all I could tell you. That’s all I wanted to tell you. You got older, and I wanted to shelter you away from everything terrible in this world. I love you so much, and then that night happened.

“You came in from a party drunk out of your mind. I knew why. You were bored. School was too easy for you. You never made any friends except for next door Kelly. Small town life wasn’t for you. You needed more. I understood that, but your mother didn’t. You both screamed at each other for hours. I thought the police were going to get called, but then you left. You packed what you wanted and you left.”

“You didn’t stop me,” you said, tears tugging at your eyes. Both of you stopped in front of a room. The closed door had three locks on it.

“No, I didn’t. You were too clever for that place. You needed to see and experience the world on your own without your mother breathing down your back. That’s why we divorced four months after you left.”

You looked around. Of course, mom wasn’t here. The house was too still. No one was nagging.

“She fucked off and is probably travelling Europe with a fuck toy. I stayed here, moved North into this homestead. Figured no one from my family would bother me here. I’ve been here for a year and nothing’s happened until you knocked this evening. So, how did you find me?”

“I told you I was a part of the Red Kings. I got into trouble with them. My friend put me in a car with a lot of cash and gave me this address. I didn’t know what would be here. He only told me that this was a safe place for me.”

“Which friend?” your father asked.

“You wouldn’t know him.”

“Try me.”

You chuckled at your father’s stubborn attitude. He would say that about every boy you were interested in. He would know their name, their parents, where he lived, etc. You shook your head again. “I told you. You wouldn’t know him. He’s an assassin.”

Your father sighed and pulled up the left side of his shirt. You saw the same black ‘X’ tattoo in the same placement as yours. You felt your whole body freeze and your mind go numb. Words could not express how you felt.

“I told you, kiddo. I’m not a business man like you thought I was. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve introduced you to the family business like most fathers did. I’m a Red King just like you. Now you know.”

You sat down with your eyes wide. Everything made sense. The frequent ‘business trips’ your father took. The secretive lies your family had to tell everyone. Why your family lived in a small town and you grew up knowing nothing about the world. And now here you were, the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.

“How? What?”

“I was a lot like you when I was younger,” your father started. “I was bored. I was too damn clever. I made friends with the wrong kind of people because I was the wrong kind of person. I joined the Red Kings knowing what exactly we were: assassins. I doubt you’ve met him in person, but Roose Bolton, the head of the Red Kings, is my best friend.”

“Roose Bolton is your best friend?”

Your father nodded and laughed. “I was one of the first Red Kings. I liked what I did a lot. He gave me all of the best assignments. He was saddened that I didn’t want you to be a part of it all. But, the boys and I had a great time. We still do.” Your father pulled out a photo album from the mess on the table. Inside, your mother complied all of the pictures she had before you were born. You saw young Roose and your father standing side by side with beers in hand. You couldn’t see their Red King tattoos, but you saw how happy they both were. You’d never seen Roose smiling now like he did in that picture.

In the corner, you spotted a handwritten note: Bolton and Locke. 1970s. Whore’s Foot. New Years Eve.

“Do you and Roose still talk?” You stared at the picture, not sure what was real and what was a lie.

“Yes, I’m still an active member. I know what’s going on. Damn Stannis is breathing down our backs. That’s partially why I’m here. Laying low was the best option for all of us old goats. Do you believe me now? About everything?”

You nodded your head and turned away from the photo album. You look around the room, trying to connect your thoughts into what you could say next.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I had planned to, but you ran off before I was ready to tell you,” your father laughed. “And I see karma slapped me in the face for it. How did you join? Did Petyr Baelish introduce you to the Red Kings?”

“He did, actually.” You started. “They came to us after the Red Wedding. I met Roose and all. Then, I fell in love with a Red King. It was wild and fun for a while until now. Everything’s gone to shit.”

“And the Red King? Did he fuck up?”

“No, I did. I messed up and he threw me out. He threatened me.” You said. Your father’s knuckles cracked. Your saw his shoulders tense up and his nostrils flared.

“Threatened you? How? Who is he?”

You swallowed hard. “Dad, I-I’m not sure if you want to know. I mean, you said Roose was your best friend and—

“Stop dodging the question. Which Red king threatened you? Who threw you out into the cold?”

“Ramsay Bolton,” you confessed. “I’m in love with Ramsay Bolton. We’ve been dating for about a year, but I think its over now, He doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Ramsay? Roose’s youngest son, Ramsay Bolton?” His voice lowered to a growl. His fists clenched at his sides. “I taught that boy everything he knows. I put a gun in his hand. Now, I’m gonna put one to his fucking head.”

Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)

@angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09 @i-theredqueen@sleepylunarwolf  @loki-0fasgard@ravenqueenbr

Ramsay Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything Ramsay Bolton related)

@boltonblade  @why-so-red @sj-thefan @sunshinesydney @drunkenpoets@antiscocialfanwarrior@fnnexua @parkerplexed  @fraueninflammen

If you wish to be added, removed, or switched from any taglists, only ask friend!

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch.19)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 3144

Author’s Notes: This was originally two chapters, but i’ve combined them into one. There is still going to be 25 chapters. i will be doing something different as a “bonus” chapter. [I’m also super stoked to share this one with you guys WOW i can’t wait for you to read it!!!!]

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/29622417

Charlotte was a goddamn great friend to you. She didn’t ask. She only took action. It seemed like only five minutes and she was there with fast food, hugs, and lots of water. She tucked you into your bed and surrounded you with the fast food. You sipped on the large soda and slowly ate what she gave you.

You debated on telling her everything. You wanted to spill the beans to her, but what if she told on you? It wasn’t uncommon. Rape was not good for business. Then again, would she have done all of this for you if she wanted to sabotage you? Charlotte sat away from you in silence. She never said anything or did anything. She just waited.

You hard a light-hearted tone, and Charlotte picked up her cell.

“It’s Petyr,” she said. “He’s holding a meeting in a couple of hours.” You sighed from exhaustion.

You forgot about Petyr. After what happened last night, you knew you trust him anymore. Your safety was clearly not his priority. It broke your heart, but you had to come to terms with it. If you told Petyr what brad had done, he could kick you out. Or worse, he could have you killed. You weren’t sure if Roose and Petyr still had an alliance, but you were sure Petyr had some kind of power.

But Ramsay wouldn’t let that happen. If Petyr made you a target, Ramsay would come and defend you. Right?

You weren’t sure of anything anymore. You did know one thing: Petyr Baelish was at that wedding reception last night without Lysa Arryn. Charlotte’s fingers snapped in front of your face. You turned to her and she frowned.

“I didn’t want to pry,” she began. “But, are you okay? Did something else happen last night?” You pulled your sweater tighter around you, hoping to God she didn’t see anything. Charlotte moved off your bed to throw away your garbage.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell me,” Charlotte began. “I’m not going to force anything, but you can trust me. I want you to know that. Before we go see Petyr, you need to clean up yourself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Petyr’s been stricter with us lately. I believe he’s still up to something he isn’t telling us. I can only assume that this meeting is about last night.”

You stare at Charlotte blankly, trying to take in all of the info she just told you. Both of you made your way towards Petyr’s meeting place outside the Vale. It wasn’t your place to judge, but Petyr hid a lot of his business, personal life, and finances from Lysa. You saw how obsessed she was with him, but you and the other birds knew he could care less about her, if he cared at all.

Charlotte kept you in line. When your mind wandered off, she kept you focused. She put some warm English breakfast tea in your hands. The heat from the cup warmed you, and it kept you grounded.

You walked into an office space that looked rented out by Petyr. It definitely wasn’t his. The general décor had hotel feel to it. Bowls of fruit and vague abstract pictures had no real value just pleasing to the eye. You saw Olyvar among other favorites, but not Ros. Your stomach dropped.

You forgot about Ros. How could you forget about Ros? You lost her at the reception. What happened to her? You stared at the door. She would come in anytime now. There was nothing to worry about. Charlotte sat you down next to her, away from anyone else, including Olyvar.

“Y/N, are you alright? I heard you were there last night,” Olyvar greeted. He was dressed handsomely for 6am in the morning. Every hair was in place. You felt slightly jealous.

“Leave her be,” Charlotte glared. “She’s seen shit.” You narrowed your eyes. Charlotte’s never snapped at anyone like that. She’s endearing. That was her thing. Every favorite bird had one driving selling factor. Yours was your charm and attention-giving. You made your clients feel needed and cared for. You made them feel like they were the only person to ever exist.

Charlotte was kind and endearing. The innocent little lamb that sin could ruin. She had been nothing but nice to everyone when she became a favorite. To see her snap like that, to be so protective of you, was different.

Petyr walked into the room with Sansa Stark following behind him. She had her long, red hair in a ponytail. She wore a similar outfit to you. A sweater with what seemed like comfortable pants. She had done her makeup well, but you knew exhausted eyes when you saw them. You watched her sit down next to Petyr. Both of you caught each other’s eyes.

“Good morning everyone,” Petyr said, sipping his coffee. “I appreciate everyone coming out to on this early morning. The reason why I called for this meeting is to talk about what happened last night. I want to clarify things and to answer as many questions as I can.”

Ros still wasn’t here. Her absence bother you like an itch in a place you couldn’t reach. Where was she? Why didn’t anyone seem concerned?

“First, I think we should talk about Ros,” Petyr swallowed hard. You felt your heart beat faster. Petyr told another gulp of his coffee. He exhaled his breath and started to speak again. “When I contacted all of you, the police informed me that they found her.”

Olyvar bit his lip. “And?”

Petyr looked to his precious birds, including you. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

“No,” Olyvar gasped. “No, come on, Petyr. Petyr! No!” Other favorite birds followed in their reactions. You were lost. What happened?

“I’m so sorry,” Petyr apologized. He looked solemn, his eyes scanned the room for reactions. Studying each one until he got all the information he needed. He stopped to look at you. He studied you for quite some time. Your eyes were open, but you weren’t all there. He knew that.

“What did the police say?” Charlotte asked, bring the attention to herself.

“Her body was in the dumpster right outside the reception,” Petyr said. “She barely had any family, but she did have her mother. I’ve contacted her to tell her what happened. Ros’ body will be sent home by her mother’s wishes.”

A mixture of sadness and confusion swept the room. You just spoke to her. You looked to Olyvar who had tears come down on his face. They were the best of friends. You watched him to try to keep himself as professional as possible. To lose your best friend suddenly was a painful thing. A part of your soul is ripped from you forever and it’s lost. Olyvar looked as if he lost half of his own.

You looked at Charlotte who remained stone cold. She did not cry. No tears even dared to form in her tear ducts. Instead she kept her eyes on Petyr. Her hand kept a tight grip on her phone. Her phone screen lit up to show Domeric Bolton’s face and a clock that recorded time as if she was on a phone call with him.

“I know this is sad news,” Petyr kept going. “But we must move on. What happened last night to Ros and Joffery was no accident.” That grabbed your attention like nothing else.

“What does that mean?” you asked. Your voice sounded hoarse.

“Joffery’s death was a deal I had made with the Tyrells,” Petyr said it flat out. Most of the birds were left dumbfounded. You, however, were not surprised. You felt disgusted, but also very happy that Petyr had a hand in ending Joffery’s reign of terror. Charlotte kept unfazed as well.

Petyr looked to Sansa continued. “Joffery needed to die. I think we all knew that. Olenna Tyrell and I hired assassins to kill Joffery once and for all. This means big changes for all of you. Sansa is in danger. Cersei Lannister believes that she and Tyrion had planned this out for themselves. This is not true. I want you all to know that. Sansa had nothing to do with this.” You looked to Sansa who remained quiet. She barely touched her coffee in front of her. You felt awful for her. After the deaths of everyone around her, you could only imagine the loneliness she felt.

“From this point forward, we will be hiding her with us in the Vale. Cersei will be on the witch hunt for her.”

“So we’re going to hide her from the police?” Charlotte instigated. Petyr narrowed his eyes at her.

“We’re protecting her,” Petyr confirmed.

“And what of Ros? Weren’t you supposed to protect her too? What about us?” Charlotte was pushing Petyr’s buttons. He kept his poker face and leaned forward.

“I am aware of the mistakes I am making, Charlotte. I am devastated over the loss of our Ros, and what happened between Ramsay and Y/N was my mistake. Ramsay was a monster,” Petyr said. Charlotte’s nostrils flared and she gripped her phone tighter. “Ros’ death was a murder. I had her meet with Joffery a few times. Someone outside my control knew this and took her out the same night.

“Someone knew about the discreet meetings between Joffery and Ros, and instead of exposing Joffery as a sex-corrupt politician, they killed Ros. They were targeting me.”

“They were targeting Ros!” Olyvar shouted. “Not everything is about you Petyr! You were supposed to be protecting her!”

“You need to calm down,” Petyr snapped at Olyvar. Olyvar slunk back into his chair. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. The tension in the room grew by the second. You glanced down to see Charlotte still had the phone call going.

“You will all still see your regular clients. If the police contact you, you will answer their questions, but lie about Sansa’s whereabouts. Y/N, you were not there, understand?” Petyr looked directly at you. You looked to Sansa and nodded at her. She nodded back. You would not do this for Petyr. You would do this for her.

Petyr continued to go on about how everyone will now “be-on-their-toes”, but you couldn’t listen anymore. How could you? You almost died because of Petyr’s mistakes, and now Ros was actually dead. How could anyone trust him? How could Sansa trust him?

There was no way you could tell him about last night now. Not when his new priority was protecting Sansa. You didn’t care why anymore. You didn’t want to work for this man anymore. It wasn’t like you could get up and quit. Petyr provided everything for his favorite birds. Your room at the Vale, food, drinks, glamour, clothes, credit cards, cell phone, income, and connections.

Your life was tied to Petyr’s hands. Charlotte grabbed you again and began to guide you out of the meeting room. “The meeting’s finished?”

“The meeting’s been finished,” Charlotte frowned at you. “You’re really out of it, sweetie. We should grab you some breakfast or something.” Sansa walked towards both of you, and Charlotte put her cell phone away quickly.

“Y/N, I wanted to talk to you,” she side-eyed Charlotte.

“It’s alright. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her. I trust her,” you said. Charlotte smiled sincerely at you. Sansa nodded.

“I only wanted to express my condolences for your loss,” she began. “I understand this is hard time for you.”

“You have experienced more loss recently than anyone here. You shouldn’t be saying sorry to me,” you knitted your eyebrows together. Sansa shook her head.

“Loss is loss. Pain is pain. It shouldn’t matter if someone experiences more of sorrow than you. Tragedy is not a race or a competition. What matters more is that we support one another, now more than ever,” Sansa looked to Charlotte for that last sentence. “I trust your friend will take care of you, but if you ever need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you,” you said. Sansa smiled and made her leave. Charlotte took your hand.

“You said you trust me?” you weren’t sure if Charlotte just asked you a question or saying a fact, but you nodded your head anyways. She guided you out of the building to a car that didn’t belong to Petyr. It was a sleek little thing that went fast. Charlotte tucked you into the passenger side of the car.

She began driving which confused you more than anything. Whenever you needed to go anywhere, Petyr had drivers that could take you there. Petyr didn’t allow any of his birds drive after he had to pay off several DUIs and some ran from him. None of the birds needed to drive anywhere.

“Is this your car?” you asked her.

“Yes,” she smiled. “This is Miranda. Isn’t she lovely? She’s vicious, you know? She bites hard.” You looked around the car. There was barely any possessions in it.

“And Petyr let you have this? Where did this even come from? We didn’t come here in this car.”

“Petyr doesn’t know about Miranda, but you do meaning I trust you, ok? Just trust me?” You recalled movies where a character is told by another character to just blindly trust them. You recall their awkward faces and every instinct telling them to not trust the character, but they go for it anyways. You recalled those parts in the movies and you always rolled your eyes, but you nodded. Despite your gut telling you no, you fucking went for it.

Charlotte drove her car onto the highway where she gunned it. She sped past and weaved in and out of cars on the road. You didn’t want to tell her how to drive, but you were very sure you were going to die before you reached your destination.

“Where are we going? This seems to be a long way for breakfast,” you noted.

“It is a long way for breakfast, isn’t it?” Charlotte giggled. She was still gunning it at 85mph. You had no idea why no police were chasing after her. Where was the police? Oh right. Joffery’s murder. There was bound to be a bunch of activity across the nation. Your mind went to Ros. He wild, red hair. Her cocky smile and doe eyes.

“Hey you, don’t wander off on me,” Charlotte snapped your attention back to reality. “We’re almost there anyways.”

Your phone started to ring. You turned it over to see Brad’s face flash across the screen. Your stomach twisted and turned. Your breath fell short. You had to answer. You had to.

“Don’t answer,” Charlotte told you.

“But—

“He was your date last night. He’s one of your clients right?” Charlotte looked at your ringing phone. “Something happened between the two of you. Your face makes it so obvious.” You touched your face and looked back to your phone.

“Don’t answer it,” Charlotte told you again. You let the phone ring and go to voicemail.

“He’s going to be so mad,” you muttered in panic. Your hands started to shake. Fingers twitched and you felt out of control of your body. Charlotte grabbed your hand and kept it steady.

“Tell me the color of that car right there,” she told you. You looked outside to see a blue van with a stick figure family on the back window.

“Blue.”

“Read the first word on that sign right there.” You looked to the highway sign.

“North.”

“What do you call that over there?”

“Wall.”

“Take a breath and say those words again,” Charlotte instructed you. You inhaled the air and exhaled.

“Blue. North. Wall,” you said. “Blue. North. Wall.” You felt calmer all of a sudden.

“It’s a grounding technique, if you were wondering,” Charlotte caressed your hand. “I know you didn’t want to talk about it earlier, but what happened last night?” You swallowed hard.

“I-I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet,” you admitted to her. Charlotte nodded.

“I understand,” she said as she pulled out of the highway and into a narrow road. It wasn’t paved. The tires caught pieces of gravel inside its grooves. You looked around to see dirty and old warehouses lining the streets. The exterior of these buildings were disgusting. You saw nothing but vandalism, dirt, and ruin on each of these giants.

“You said we were going to—

“We’re close. I told you to trust me. Please trust me for a while longer, pretty bird. I promise,” Charlotte pressed a button in her car and a garage door opened. She parked her car, and let you out. She brushed off your shoulders and nodded for you to come along.

As soon as she opened the door, your mouth almost dropped to the ground. The outside of this warehouse had grime and dirt smeared all over it with broken windows, but inside was a dream. Everything had been redone. The walls and hardwood floors were spotless. High ceilings showed the exposed steel beams and large windows brought in light and warmth to the common areas.

It was an open concept. In the middle of the room was the living area where plush couches and sectionals were arranged to face each other. Throw blankets and pillows decorated them. To the left was bookshelves that not only had books but trinkets from around the world. You spotted a beautifully painted elephant on the third shelf.

You sniffed the air to smell eggs, bacon, and pancakes. You heard the sizzle on the grill, and looked to your right.

“Domeric?” you said aloud. Charlotte walked over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Domeric Bolton saw you and nearly jumped back ten feet.

“Y/N?” Dom quickly looked at Charlotte. “Char, what is she—

“We’re placing her under our protection, ok?” she insisted.

“What? You can’t do that, Char. Are you crazy? Does she even know?”

“Know what? I’m really confused. Char told me we were getting breakfast,” you said.

“And you are,” Charlotte pulled up a chair. “Dom, give her pancakes.” “Out of all the girls in the world, you bring her into our home and—

“Domeric Eugene Bolton, you give Y/N some fucking pancakes right now,” Charlotte slammed her hands down on the counter. Domeric quietly put pancakes on a plate and served them to you.

“Did he just say our home?” you asked her. “Charlotte, what’s going on?” Domeric side-eyed Charlotte for a moment and went back to making breakfast.

“I’m not really one of Petyr’s birds. I never was. I was a plant. A spy,” Charlotte said to you. “I am a Red King, and I’ve been working against Petyr Baelish and you birds for years.”