The second day in the Red Keep began with tension in the air.
Ethan woke early again, his body still adjusting to the warmer southern climate. The constant noise of the city below made sleep difficult. He practiced sword forms in his small room for nearly an hour before heading to the training yard.
This time, more men were present. Gold Cloaks trained lazily while a few royal knights sparred seriously. Ethan found a quiet corner and worked through the footwork Ser Rodrik had corrected yesterday. Sweat soon soaked his tunic, but he pushed through the discomfort.
A familiar voice called out.
"Not bad for a northern bastard."
Jaime Lannister stood watching him, arms crossed, golden armor gleaming even in the morning light. He wasn't wearing his helmet, and his famous golden hair fell loosely around his shoulders.
Ethan lowered his sword and bowed slightly. "Ser Jaime."
Jaime walked closer, studying him with those sharp emerald eyes. "You've got decent form. A bit rough, but there's potential. Most bastards from the North swing like lumberjacks."
He drew his own sword — bright and Valyrian steel.
"Care for a lesson?" Jaime asked, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.
Ethan's heart beat faster. This was an opportunity… and a risk.
"I'd be honored, ser."
Their spar was controlled but intense. Jaime was on another level — faster, more experienced, and incredibly precise. He disarmed Ethan three times in ten minutes, each time offering calm corrections.
"Elbow higher. Don't fight with anger. Fight with purpose," Jaime said after the third round. "Anger will get you killed in this city."
[Sword Mastery progress: +18% toward Level 8] [+110 EXP]
[Favorability with Jaime Lannister: 23/100 (Mild Respect)]
As they finished, Jaime wiped his blade. "You're interesting, Snow. Most people here are either boring or stupid. You might be neither." He sheathed his sword and walked away without another word.
Ethan stood there catching his breath, feeling both exhausted and energized.
Midday – The Tower of the Hand
Ned Stark had been summoned to his first Small Council meeting. The atmosphere in the tower was heavy. Catelyn paced worriedly while Sansa sat sewing with her ladies, though her stitches were distracted.
Ethan was helping organize the armory when Sansa found a moment to slip away. She pulled him into an empty storage room near the back of the tower.
"I can't stay long," she whispered. Her hands were trembling slightly. "Mother is watching me closely now."
She looked more beautiful than ever in the soft light coming through the narrow window — her auburn hair neatly braided, wearing a modest blue dress with the direwolf sigil.
Ethan gently took her hands. "Are you alright?"
Sansa shook her head. "Joffrey came to visit this morning. He kept talking about how I'll be his queen and how I should be grateful. The way he looks at me… it makes me feel sick."
Ethan pulled her into a hug. Sansa buried her face in his chest, breathing shakily.
"I keep wishing we were still in Winterfell," she murmured. "In the godswood… just us."
He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly. This time Sansa responded with more hunger. She pressed herself closer, her hands gripping the front of his tunic. The kiss grew deeper, their breathing becoming heavier. Ethan's hand slid to her waist, pulling her against him.
For a few precious minutes, they lost themselves in each other — soft kisses turning into longer, more passionate ones. Sansa let out a tiny whimper when Ethan kissed the side of her neck, her body trembling against his.
When they finally pulled apart, her lips were flushed and her eyes glassy.
"I want more," she whispered, almost ashamed of her own words. "But… I'm scared. Not here. Not yet."
Ethan nodded, stroking her cheek. "We'll wait until you're ready. I won't rush you."
Sansa gave him a grateful, loving smile and rested her forehead against his. "You make me feel safe. Even in this horrible place."
[Sansa Stark Favorability: 77/100 (Strong Romantic Interest + Growing Desire)]
She gave him one last quick kiss before slipping out of the room, checking the corridor first.
Afternoon – Throne Room
King Robert held a small audience. Ethan stood among the guards as various lords and merchants presented their requests. He watched everything carefully.
Joffrey sat beside his father, looking bored and cruel. When his eyes landed on Sansa (who stood with her family), his expression turned possessive. Ethan clenched his jaw but remained still.
After the audience, as people were leaving, a soft, elegant voice spoke beside him.
"You seem very watchful, Ethan Snow."
He turned to see Margaery Tyrell standing nearby with two of her ladies. She smiled warmly, holding a small bouquet of flowers.
"My lady," Ethan greeted with a respectful bow.
Margaery stepped a little closer. "I saw you training this morning with Ser Jaime. You lasted longer than most. Tell me… are all northern men as resilient as you?"
There was a playful, almost teasing note in her voice. Her eyes studied him with genuine interest.
Ethan smiled slightly. "We have to be, my lady. The North doesn't forgive weakness."
Margaery laughed softly — a beautiful, musical sound. "I like that answer. Perhaps you could tell me more about the North someday. I find it fascinating."
[Margaery Tyrell Favorability: 29/100 (Growing Interest)]
Before Ethan could reply, she gave him a graceful nod and continued walking, her dress swaying elegantly.
Night – Ethan's Room
Ethan sat at his small table, reviewing the basic map of the Red Keep he had bought. He was marking possible hidden passages when a quiet knock sounded at his door.
He opened it carefully.
Sansa stood there in a simple nightgown and robe, hood pulled up. She slipped inside quickly and barred the door.
"I told them I was going to pray in the sept," she whispered, cheeks already red. "I only have half an hour."
This time she was bolder. She kissed him immediately, pressing her body against his. They moved to his narrow bed and sat down. For the next twenty minutes they kissed deeply, hands exploring over clothes — respectful but filled with growing desire.
Sansa's breathing became heavy as Ethan kissed her neck and collarbone. She let out soft sounds that made his blood run hot, but he never pushed past her limits.
When it was time for her to leave, she hugged him tightly.
"I'm falling for you, Ethan," she whispered against his neck. "Truly falling."
[Sansa Stark Favorability: 81/100 (Bordering on Love)]
After she left, Ethan lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, heart full and mind racing.
He was playing a dangerous game in the most dangerous city in Westeros.
But for the first time, he felt like he wasn't just surviving — he was starting to build something real.
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