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Chapter 90: Dishonest Maester!*
🕑 Added 2024-05-18 21:55:48 +0000 UTCThe tourney had concluded, with Jorah Mormont emerging as the victor, much as Damian had expected from his knowledge of the future. Though it wasn't officially confirmed, Damian was certain that Jorah had approached Lord Hightower to request the hand of his daughter, Lynesse, in marriage. Damian knew from his reading that this union would spell financial ruin for House Mormont, as Lynesse's extravagant lifestyle would bleed them dry. However, he realized that any advice he might offer would likely fall on deaf ears, given the lack of familiarity and trust between them.
In his correspondence, Ned shared the reactions of various nobles to Damian's appointment as the High Lord of the Iron Islands. None openly challenged Robert's decree, but there were murmurings of discontent, particularly from Queen Cersei. Damian suspected that she viewed Robert's decision as favoritism towards the Starks, whom she saw as primitive northerners worshipping trees in a harsh, barren land. Despite her displeasure, Damian knew her influence alone was insufficient to cause any significant trouble.
What truly troubled Damian was the news concerning Aeron and Victarion Greyjoy. They, along with a handful of Ironborn men, had managed to escape from the dungeons of Casterly Rock on the night of the tourney. Their daring escape included hijacking a ship, allowing them to flee to the open sea. Upon learning of the escape, Robert had dispatched Lord Stannis to hunt down the fugitives, a task Damian knew would be challenging given the Ironborn's maritime prowess and the whole night as a head start they had gained.
'How were they able to escape from the caves beneath Casterly Rock?' Damian muttered to himself, with a furrowed brow. 'Someone must have helped them. Was it you, Tywin?'
The thought gnawed at him. Tywin Lannister was a man of cunning and calculation, capable of orchestrating such an escape if it served his interests. Releasing the Greyjoy brothers could create trouble for Damian, weakening his rule over the Iron Islands and but it would also destabilize Robert's hold on the realm and by extension would bring trouble for his grandchild which seemed counterproductive.
On Instigation, it was discovered that someone from the outside likely facilitated the breakout. The Chief Officer who held the keys to the dungeon had been found dead in his quarters, his throat slit with a precision that suggested a professional hand. The implications were clear: this was no spontaneous jailbreak; it had been meticulously planned and executed.
"Tywin's way of removing any suspicion from himself," Damian mused, his mind racing. "Or it might truly be the work of an outsider. Euron, perhaps. Has he returned to rescue his brothers?"
The possibility of Euron Greyjoy's involvement cannot be ruled out. Known for his ruthlessness and cunning, Euron was capable of such a daring rescue. If he was indeed behind this, it meant that Damian's troubles were far from over. Euron, the motherfuking troublemaker, would not rest until he had reclaimed what he believed was rightfully his, and that included the Iron Islands.
For now, Damian had no definitive answers.
"My lord, is everything all right?" asked the maester, noting the young lord's deep contemplation.
"Victarion and Aeron Greyjoy broke free from their cells and fled to the sea," Damian revealed, his eyes locking onto Maester Qalen's.
"It-it's deeply troubling news, my lord," Maester Qalen replied, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a flicker of concern.
"It is, Maester. But it’s not something you should worry about. A temporary hurdle, nothing more. Thank you for bringing this to me. You can go and have your rest," Damian said, dismissing the maester with a wave of his hand.
Maester Qalen bowed slightly and departed, leaving Damian to his thoughts once more.
As soon as the door closed, Willow, the pixie, shimmered into visibility, hovering near Damian’s shoulder.
"Did he try to read the letter?" Damian asked, his voice low and measured.
"He did try, my lord, with a lot of hesitation. Mumring 'I shouldn't', 'what if he finds out'" Willow replied, his tiny voice carrying the weight of his findings. "But he stopped halfway and resealed the letter."
Damian sighed, his expression darkening. The seals that lords used were not infallible; some maesters were adept at breaking and resealing them without leaving a trace. The knowledge that Qalen had even attempted to read a missive meant for his eyes alone was enough to stir Damian's ire.
"That man is untrustworthy," Damian muttered, more to himself than to Willow. "Even if he didn't go through with it, the mere attempt is enough."
"What do you wish to do, my lord?" Willow asked, his wings fluttering slightly as he hovered.
Damian paused, weighing his options. He couldn't afford to act rashly, those grey rats had considerable power in the realm. They had the ears of almost every lord. But neither could he let such a breach go unaddressed. Unfortunately, he had no evidence. Though he could dismiss Qalen on just the suspicion it wouldn't solve his problem. It would take time for the Citadel to send a new Maester and who knows if he will be as loyal as someone like Maester Luwin is to Starks.
"Keep a close watch on him, Willow. Report any suspicious activity directly to me," he finally said, his tone decisive.
"Yes, my lord," Willow responded, his form shimmering once more and fading into invisibility.
After a few minutes later, Damian felt something soft touch his lips.
"Knock it off, Lily," Damian scolded, catching the naughty pixie trying to steal a kiss from him.
When he caught her in his hand, he felt her skin, soft and bare, devoid of the usual flowery dress she wore. Immediately, Lily disabled her invisibility and revealed herself, and as he suspected, she was completely nude.
This pixie was the same one with those ample curves who had teased him upon their first meeting. A couple of days ago, she had stumbled upon Damian with Dacey, catching them fucking madly on his table. The scent of his seed, sprayed across Mormont's face, had somehow driven her mad with desire.
"Lily, what do you think you're doing?" Damian's voice was stern, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement.
"I couldn't help it, my lord," Lily purred, her voice a sultry whisper. "Your scent... it's so intoxicating." She stretched languidly in his hand, her wings fluttering slightly, the movement drawing his gaze to her large breasts pressing against his thumb.
"You know there's no possibility of you taking in my cock in your little snatch," Damian tried to reason. She was just a little more than a foot long, maybe fifteen or sixteen inches. Damian did fantasize about fucking elves or any other magical humanoid, and here was a pixie trying to seduce him. Unfortunately, her size made it impossible for them to copulate, but she did have an amazing body.
"My Lord, I would be satisfied with just drinking your sweet, powerful nectar," Lily pleaded, showing her puppy face.
When she saw her puppy face had no effect, she started to plead once again.
She pouted, her eyes large and imploring. "Please, my lord," she begged, "just once. I promise I'll be good after."
He shook his head, though he couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence. "You pixies are incorrigible," he muttered.
Lily's expression brightened at his laugh, her mischief undeterred. "Only for you, my lord," she whispered, leaning in once more.
Damian felt a mix of amusement and frustration. "And how do you intend to extract it? Do you want me to jerk off and fill a glass for you?" Damian asked, deciding it did no harm as long as no one knew about it.
"Just leave that to me, my Lord," Lily said, licking her licking her lips.
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