TitoVillar
patreon
GOT Chapter 49: The Night Banquet
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 04:00:57 +0000 UTC“Ten silver stags! Make sure they’re gentle with him!”
“A newborn ‘fawn’ can’t handle a pack of starving wolves...!”
Before the still-bewildered Jon could even open his mouth to refuse, Kal had already offered up the funds for this “activity.”
At the sound of Kal’s command, the members of the Blackstone Mercenary Company erupted into cheers. Without a second thought, they left their commander behind and surged toward Jon Snow, surrounding him in an excited frenzy—far more thrilled than the man himself.
Some of the looser-tongued ones even began boasting around the poor bastard, proudly recounting the glorious tales of their leader’s exploits back in King’s Landing.
They claimed that, as a fellow bastard, their boss had roamed Silk Street with complete freedom—and never had to pay a single copper.
Not because of his looks, not because of his name, but purely because of skill.
At that moment, Jon didn’t even have the chance to refuse. What could one mouth do against a dozen others shouting over it? He was instantly drowned in the raging tide of what they called “the people’s justice.”
Watching it all unfold, Kal hid to the side, grinning with a sinister gleam in his eyes.
He was already imagining what kind of expression Jon Snow would have once everything was over.
And now that the boy had been snatched away by him, it also meant he’d miss out on that fateful encounter with his future wildling lover.
Well then... might as well “compensate” him. Kal shamelessly found himself a perfectly “honorable” excuse for it.
...
The welcome feast held in honor of the king’s arrival had been going on for a full four hours now. Kal blended into the setting as naturally as water flowing downstream.
He genuinely enjoyed the company of these men, and eagerly listened to their boasts about war, hunting—and even their tales of adultery.
He hid in the shadows, chuckling to himself while reminiscing about the five wonderful years he had spent wandering through the Free Cities.
Eventually, as the banquet wore on, the guests of honor—both the hosts and the main visitors—finally made their fashionably late entrance through the castle’s grand gates.
Conveniently, the procession passed right behind where Kal was seated.
So he turned around with a smile and observed them with a serious, discerning gaze.
At the very front of the procession was the master of the castle, Lord Stark himself, escorting the Queen as they led the group.
And under the warm glow of candlelight, Queen Cersei Lannister—reputed as the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms—was indeed every bit as stunning as the rumors claimed.
A crown encrusted with gemstones framed her golden hair, which shimmered brightly.
The emeralds set into the crown matched perfectly with her dazzling green eyes—so flawless it was almost unreal.
Lord Stark guided her through the hall, up the dais, and into the seat prepared for her.
But the proud Lannister never once spared Winterfell’s lord a proper glance.
Even her smile was nothing more than surface politeness.
After taking her seat, Queen Cersei instinctively scanned the room, only to find that the one person she didn’t want to see was nowhere in sight.
Her brow furrowed ever so slightly before she quickly smoothed it over—like nothing had happened.
Following closely behind them was the king himself.
He strode into the hall, belly protruding proudly, arm linked with Lady Stark’s, and wore a bold grin on his face.
Though it would’ve been better if that free hand of his wasn’t holding a gem-encrusted golden goblet.
Trailing behind them were the children of both houses.
Little Rickon walked at the very front, all by himself.
At just three years old, he was doing his best to maintain the most solemn posture a three-year-old could manage.
Seeing this adorable sight, Kal couldn’t help but smile, nearly pulling out a copper star to hand over to him on impulse.
Rickon, however, noticed Jon surrounded by Kossi and the others. He stopped and greeted him.
With a headache brewing, Jon could only urge him to hurry along.
Next came Robb Stark, the current heir of Winterfell.
He wore a woolen coat in the Stark family colors—gray velvet with white trim—but unlike Rickon, he didn’t even glance at his brother.
That was because he was busy mimicking the King, escorting Princess Myrcella by the arm.
Unfortunately, Princess Myrcella was still just a child—not yet eight years old—and had to stretch her arm upward to awkwardly link it with Robb’s, creating a rather mismatched sight.
She too wore an ornate hairnet adorned with pearls and jewels, her golden curls cascading like a waterfall down her back.
As she passed by Kal, it seemed she spotted him.
But she quickly turned her head away in flustered embarrassment, pretending not to notice him. With a blushing face and a serious expression, she continued walking forward with a prim little smile.
Robb’s gaze was fixed entirely on her, grinning like a fool.
Next in line were Arya and the chubby Prince Tommen, walking side by side. His platinum-blond hair was even longer than Arya’s.
Just two years older than his sister, Sansa walked with the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon.
Although Joffrey was only twelve, he was already taller than both Jon and Robb.
Seeing this, Kal made a mental note to increase Jon’s food rations later. Things like bone-strengthening tonic or muscle-building powder definitely needed to be added to his diet.
Joffrey had clearly gone to some effort tonight. His deep green eyes stared straight ahead, and his golden curls fell smoothly over his shoulders, covering his wide golden necktie and the noble velvet collar beneath.
Sansa Stark walked beside him, radiant and full of joy.
But then, all of a sudden, Sansa noticed something.
Her prince’s usual smug, careless smile abruptly stiffened—and in the next second, his expression turned deathly pale, as if he had just laid eyes on something horrifying.
She instinctively turned her head to look—and saw a man even more handsome and seductive than the Kingslayer waving in her direction.
The moment Sansa got a clear look at Kal’s face, not far from where she stood, she froze for a second. Then, in a flustered panic, her eyes darted away, her cheeks flushed red, and she quickly lowered her head, picking up her pace as she walked forward.
And just like that, she ended up dragging Joffrey along with her.
Unfortunately, Kal hadn’t been waving at them at all.
The one returning his wave was someone walking behind Jaime Lannister—the man tall and striking, with flowing golden hair, piercing green eyes, and a smile as sharp as a blade.
Behind him ambled a dwarf, swaying with each step, trying to half-hide himself beside his brother under the gaze of onlookers.
It was as if he hoped Jaime’s flashy scarlet silk tunic, black high boots, and long black satin cape—with the roaring, untamed golden lion of House Lannister embroidered across the chest—could somehow shield him from attention.
But the dwarf, standing barely half his brother’s height, was struggling to keep up with his malformed legs—and with that oddly shaped head and an oversized face completely out of proportion, there was simply no hiding. On the contrary, it only made him stand out more.
Upon seeing his friend’s greeting…
The disgrace of House Lannister responded in kind—mimicking what Kal had once done to him—by flipping up his middle finger and mouthing the vilest “blessing” his lips could shape.
Following behind the two Lannister brothers came a man who caught even Kal’s attention.
It was someone Kal found himself genuinely curious about: the First Ranger of the Night’s Watch, Benjen Stark.
Kal watched him closely, stroking his chin—only to let his hand drop shortly after.
Benjen seemed to have noticed Jon and offered him a gentle smile.
Walking beside him was a younger man with a perpetual air of sleaze about him—Theon Greyjoy.
But Theon acted as if Jon didn’t exist, completely ignoring him. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Kal.
Jon didn’t mind. After all, this wasn’t the first time.
And finally, once all the honored guests had taken their seats, the toasts began. Goblets were raised, pleasantries exchanged.
Only then did the feast truly begin.
