Bonus: An Affair in Winterfell pt.4

Catelyn Stark sat in her solar, where she did most of her work when she was not overseeing everything in the castle. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting direwolves, the sigil of House Stark. The flickering glow of lanterns cast warm light over the polished oak table she sat in front of, her composure carefully measured as she heard what Vayon Poole had to say.

“The household accounts have been settled for the month,” Vayon began, his tone methodical as he gestured to a stack of ledgers before them. “However, there remains the matter of the overages for the grain stores. House Manderly—”

Catelyn nodded, her auburn hair catching the light as she leaned forward slightly. Her hands rested on the edge of the table, fingers curling against the smooth wood. Despite her outward poise, there was a faint flush to her cheeks, a betraying warmth that spread from her neck to the tips of her ears.

Vayon paused, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. “My lady, are you well?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Catelyn’s lips parted slightly, her breath quickening before she masked it with a polite cough. “I am fine, Master Poole,” she replied, her voice steady though it faltered at the end. She folded her hands in her lap, her knuckles whitening as she clenched them, trying to maintain her composure.

Vayon didn’t appear entirely convinced. He hesitated before continuing, flipping through the ledger. “As I was saying, the overages—”

Catelyn's gaze went down to the source of her distraction. Beneath the table, unseen by Vayon, Maekar was knelt, his head buried between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her cunt.

Catelyn’s mind raced, struggling to focus on his words. She shifted in her seat and tried to cross her legs tightly as if to anchor herself, but Maekar's hands gripped her thighs, keeping them apart as he continued to feast on her. His tongue traced circles around her clit, his lips sucking gently, drawing out a soft moan that she quickly stifled.

The minutes dragged on, each moment a test of her restraint. She forced herself to nod at appropriate intervals, responding with faint murmurs of agreement as Vayon elaborated on the financial intricacies of Winterfell’s operations. Her voice, though calm, wavered ever so slightly, her attempts at nonchalance betrayed by the faint quiver in her words and the occasional gasp as Maekar's tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot.

When Vayon finally closed the ledger, satisfied that his report was delivered, Catelyn let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. She reached for a goblet of water, her hand trembling as she brought it to her lips. The cool liquid provided a momentary reprieve, though her flushed cheeks and shining eyes did not escape Vayon’s notice. Beneath the table, Maekar redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping her ass to pull her closer to his mouth.

“If you’re not certain you’re well, my lady,” Vayon said again, his tone laced with polite concern, “perhaps you should rest. Winterfell’s affairs will wait.”

Catelyn managed a small, gracious smile, even as her body began to tremble with the onset of her peak. “Thank you, Master Poole,” she said softly, her voice regaining its steadiness even as her breath hitched. “I’ll take your advice.”

As Vayon gathered his things and left the room, Catelyn’s composure finally cracked. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white as she came, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Maekar, sensing her peak, increased his pace, his tongue and lips working feverishly to draw out every last wave of pleasure.

As the door clicked shut behind Vayon, Catelyn let out a low, guttural moan, her body slumping back in her chair as she rode out the final waves of her orgasm.

‘He has a blessed tongue,’ Catelyn thought as she collapsed in the chair.

Maekar emerged from beneath the table, his lips glistening with her juices and a wicked grin on his face.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured.

Catelyn could only manage a weak smile in response, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her release. She reached out, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing against his lips.

His gray eyes met her blue, and she let out a shaky laugh.

“That was close,” she murmured, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her flushed face.

Maekar leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a fleeting kiss. “It made things more fun,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.

Catelyn sighed. “You’re insatiable,” she chided, her hand drifting to the bulge in his pants. She traced it lightly with her fingers, eliciting a soft groan from him.

“You had me this morning, Maekar,” she added, arching a brow at him, though her tone betrayed amusement more than reproach.

“I’m a young man,” Maekar countered with a smirk, leaning back slightly as she touched him.

Her hands moved deftly to the fastenings of his pants, but as she began to undo them, Maekar caught her wrists gently. His eyes sparkled with playful defiance.

“Do it with your mouth,” he suggested, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl.

Catelyn tilted her head, giving him a pointed look, though her lips curled into a smile. “You’re getting bolder and bolder, my prince.”

“I’m getting bolder?” Maekar teased back, his hand brushing through her fiery red hair. “You make me this way.”

Her laughter was soft, almost indulgent, as she leaned forward, her teeth catching the edge of his waistband. Slowly and with deliberate care, she began to tug it downward, her eyes flicking up to his in a silent challenge.

Just as his cock was about to be freed, they were interrupted by the sudden sound of the chamber door creaking open.

“Mother?” Sansa’s voice was clear as she stepped into the room.

Catelyn jumped to her feet, her face turning into a mask of composure despite the telltale flush on her cheeks. Maekar, with practiced ease, straightened his pants and leaned casually against the table.

“Sansa, dear,” Catelyn greeted, her voice calm but slightly rushed. “What are you doing here?”

Sansa frowned, her expression perplexed. “What do you mean, Mother? It’s time for our daily sewing session. You’ve already missed the last three.”

Catelyn hesitated, glancing briefly at Maekar before nodding with a sheepish smile. “Ah, yes. Let us go, then.”

Sansa’s gaze shifted to Maekar, her head tilting in curiosity. “What are you doing here, Maekar?”

Maekar smirked, his tone light as he replied, “I was helping your mother with an ache she had.”

Sansa’s eyes widened with concern. “Mother, are you not well?”

Catelyn’s lips twitched as she glanced at Maekar. “I am now,” she said smoothly. “Let us go, Sansa. We’ve three days of catching up to do.”

Satisfied, Sansa smiled innocently and turned to leave, Catelyn following closely behind. At the doorway, Catelyn glanced back at Maekar, her smile lingering before she disappeared down the hall.

.

.

.

Catelyn sat across from Sansa in her chambers, the soft clinking of sewing needles filling the quiet space. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Sansa was chatting animatedly, her voice light and filled with excitement as she recounted a gossip she’d overheard.

“Alys had to scold her younger brother because he snuck into the stables to steal a kiss from a milkmaid!” Sansa giggled, her hands deftly working the thread in her lap.

Catelyn smiled faintly, nodding along as Sansa continued. Yet, her thoughts were far from the gossip of Northern ladies. Her mind drifted back to Maekar—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at her. It had only been a week since their affair began, but it felt as though her entire existence had been transformed.

She had never felt so alive, not even in her youth. The days passed with a heightened sense of anticipation, each stolen moment with him filling her with a wild, reckless energy. Whatever shame or reluctance she had felt at the beginning had vanished. Now, she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

But Maekar will leave; he will not stay forever in Winterfell. The thought brought her mood down suddenly. She had fallen from her highs just a moment ago.

Her eyes strayed to Sansa, her sweet, innocent daughter. As Sansa prattled on, Catelyn’s mind began to spin, unbidden. If Maekar were to marry Sansa, he would never leave Winterfell. He would be here, close to her, a part of her life forever. The very idea sent a thrill through her—a mix of excitement and shame so intense it made her chest tighten.

How had she come to this? Catelyn Tully, who once prided herself on her honor, now plotting to use her daughter to keep a lover near. What kind of mother was she? The thought brought a flush of heat to her cheeks, and her hands trembled slightly, causing her knitting to falter.

“Mother?” Sansa’s voice broke through her reverie, her bright blue eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

Catelyn forced a smile, quickly regaining her composure. “I’m fine, dear,” she said, her voice soft and steady.

Sansa tilted her head, studying her mother for a moment before returning to her knitting, satisfied with the explanation. Catelyn watched her daughter, guilt gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. And yet, beneath it all, there was something else—a quiet, insistent voice reminding her that she deserved this. She deserved to be happy. Sansa loved her; she would understand, wouldn’t she? She would forgive her mother’s flaws, her mistakes. Catelyn clung to that thought, letting it anchor her.

Her mind drifted again, this time to Maekar. When would they see each other next? She longed for his touch, for the fire he sparked within her. The hours they spent apart felt like an eternity, and she counted the moments until she could feel alive in his arms once more.

Catelyn’s smile softened, her fingers picking up the rhythm of her sewing once again. She needed to plan. She needed Maekar near her, and she would use her daughter if she had to.

.

.

.

The night came slower than expected for Catelyn as she made her way through the corridors of Winterfell, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floors. The castle was quiet, the usual bustle of people notably absent. She was in the family apartments, her heart pounding with anticipation as she navigated the familiar halls.

She recalled the countless times they had kissed in shadowy corners of the castle that day. Maekar was always so spontaneous, his actions keeping her on edge, her heart racing with excitement and desire. She remembered the way he would pull her into a secluded alcove, his hands cupping her face as they devoured each other's mouths.

Their kisses were always fierce and passionate. She could still feel the heat of his body against hers, the taste of his lips, the scent of his skin. It was intoxicating, a sensation that left her craving more, always more.

He teased her all day. Whenever he got his hands on her, he would rub her cunt through her clothes, his touch firm and insistent. She would be left panting, her body aching with need. It had been torturous.

Some servants had noticed her disheveled state during the day—her hair slightly mussed, her cheeks flushed. She needed to deal with that, to find an explanation for her appearance. Perhaps she could tell them she had been unwell, that she had been feeling faint and needed to rest. Yes, that would do. And perhaps she could even use that as an excuse to spend tomorrow in her chamber, with Maekar for company. The thought sent a wave of excitement coursing through her, her heat rising in her nether region in anticipation.

As she walked, lost in thought, Catelyn was suddenly grabbed from behind. A gasp escaped her lips, but the moment she felt the strong hands on her waist, she relaxed. She knew exactly who it was.

Turning in his arms, she gave Maekar a playful scolding look, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. “Must you always do that?” she chided, her voice low and teasing.

Maekar’s grin was devilish as he leaned closer, his gray eyes glinting in the dim light of the corridor. “I thought you enjoyed that,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Isn't that what you said this morning? That the thrill of being caught excited you?”

Catelyn sighed, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment. “Yes, I did,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t deny it. Her thoughts drifted back to earlier, to the thrill of it all—the risk of being caught, the way her heart had raced at the possibility. She felt her cheeks warm again, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Maekar’s voice lowered, his words sending a shiver down her spine. “I think,” he began, leaning closer, “you would have liked for a servant or two to see. To see the Lady of Winterfell in such a scene. The look on their faces would have been priceless.”

Her face turned a deep shade of crimson, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. His audacity both shocked and excited her, leaving her speechless. She managed to regain her composure enough to retort, “Let’s go to your chambers. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

She took his arm, ready to lead him away, but to her surprise, he didn’t move. She turned back to him, confusion etched across her face.

“Maekar?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he pulled her back into his arms, his hands firm and possessive on her waist. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “I want you to take my cock in your mouth. Here and now.”

Catelyn’s eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process his words.

“Maekar—” she began, but he interrupted her with a sly grin.

“It’s only fair,” he said, his tone unrepentant. “You return the favor for this morning.”

Her cheeks burned, and she glanced nervously down the corridor. “This is too much,” she protested weakly. “Someone will hear.”

“No one will,” he assured her.

Catelyn hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his, before she weakly accepted. She dropped down to her knees, her heart pounding in her chest as she reached for the fastenings of his pants. Her fingers worked quickly, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as she undid his pants, pushing them down to reveal his cock, already hard and throbbing with need.

As his cock sprang free, Catelyn's hands were quickly on it. She still marveled at its size, its girth. She tugged on it gently, drawing a low groan from deep within Maekar's chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Be quiet," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting to the sides to ensure they were still alone.

Maekar's breath hitched as he looked down at her, his cock throbbing in her hands.

She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to lick the length of his cock, her eyes locked onto his.

She started at the base, her tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path up to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive head, drawing a soft moan from deep within Maekar's chest. He struggled to keep quiet as he fought to control his reactions.

Catelyn took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth, her tongue continuing its dance around the head of his cock. She bobbed her head, her hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, her movements slow, drawing out another low moan from him. She could feel his cock throbbing in her mouth, the veins pulsing beneath her touch, and it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her.

She took him further into her mouth, her tongue licking and exploring the length of his shaft, her lips brushing against his balls. She pulled back for a breath, her eyes watering slightly, before taking him into her mouth again, her enthusiasm and desire growing with each passing moment.

She stopped for a moment, her eyes darting nervously from side to side, her heart pounding in her chest as she took him in her mouth once more. The risk of being caught was truly adding to the thrill. She could feel her own desire building, her cunt throbbing with need, her body aching for his touch.

Maekar's hands tangled in her hair, his hips thrusting gently as he guided her movements. He pulled his cock out of her mouth, tapping it lightly against her tongue, something he knew she loved.

Suddenly, Maekar pulled her to her feet, his eyes dark with lust. Catelyn's breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. "We should go to your chambers now," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting nervously down the corridor.

"No," Maekar growled, his voice low. He spun her around, pressing her against the cold stone wall, his body covering hers. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "I want you here. Now."

Catelyn's eyes widened, her breath coming in quick, desperate gasps. "Not here," she protested weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maekar's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pressed his hard cock against her ass. "Yes, here," he murmured, his voice low and insistent. "I want to fuck you right here, right now."

He pulled up her skirts to reveal her bare legs and the tantalizing glimpse of her wet cunt beneath her dress. Catelyn helped him, holding her skirts up, her breath hitching with anticipation. She felt a rush of excitement as she exposed herself to him in such an open space. Any servant or guard could walk through the corridor, and if they did, her life could be ruined. Yet those thoughts were long masked by the lust she felt at the moment.

Maekar's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her. "Mmm, I wonder where your smallclothes went," he teased.

Catelyn giggled softly, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Acting innocent, are we?" she chided playfully. "You know very well you took them during our evening encounter. I was freezing without them."

Maekar smirked, his hands roaming over her bare thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin. "Let me warm it up for you," he said, his voice husky with desire as he positioned himself behind her, his hard cock pressing against her entrance.

Catelyn gasped as Maekar entered her, her body stretching to accommodate his size. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, a sensation she had come to crave, to need. She couldn't live without it now, the feeling of him inside her, completing her. Her breath came in quick gasps as he filled her completely, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensation.

Maekar began to fuck her against the wall, his hips moving with powerful thrusts. Catelyn tried to stifle her moans, biting her lip, her hands gripping the cold stone wall for support.

"Let's see how long you can stay silent," Maekar murmured, his voice low and challenging as he increased his pace, his cock filling her completely with each powerful thrust.

Catelyn's breath hitched, her body trembling with the effort to stay quiet. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. She knew she couldn't risk it, couldn't afford to be caught. With a final, desperate gasp, she stopped Maekar, pushing him away from her.

"I guess the fun is over," Maekar said, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and amusement.

Catelyn turned to face him, her eyes shining with desire. "We can continue the fun in your chambers," she purred, pulling him towards his room.

As they reached his chambers, Catelyn pulled him inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. She expected the night to be sleepless, like it had been for the entire week.

.

.

.

Sansa Stark stirred in her bed, her mind lingering in the remnants of a dream. In it, she had been a princess, dressed in silks of deep crimson and black, standing beside Maekar. His hand was warm in hers, his eyes filled with admiration as the courtiers bowed before them. She had felt radiant, every inch the noble lady she had always dreamed of being.

A sudden noise roused her fully, pulling her from the dream. Her brows furrowed as she sat up, the thick blankets pooling around her waist. She could hear faint voices coming from the corridor outside her chambers. They sounded hurried, as if someone was distressed or hurt.

Concerned, Sansa slipped out of bed, pulling a woolen robe around her slender frame. She padded softly to the door and opened it a crack, peering into the dimly lit hallway. She saw movement and heard a door closing. She gathered her courage and stepped into the corridor. The first thing she noticed was the faint glow emanating from the direction of Maekar’s chambers.

Her heart quickened. Was something wrong? She had heard noises after all. She stepped into the hall, her curiosity overpowering her hesitation. The faint murmurs grew louder as she approached, though they didn’t sound like the cries of someone in pain. Her steps slowed as she neared his door, her hand hovering over the handle.

The sounds from within were clearer now—moans, undeniably of an intimate nature. Her cheeks flushed as realization struck. She knew what those noises were, even if she had never experienced them herself. Her breath hitched, and she stepped back instinctively, her mind racing.

But something held her there, her feet rooted to the ground. She tried to will herself away, her conscience screaming at her to leave, yet her hand moved to the door instead. She pressed her ear to the wood, her pulse pounding in her ears. It was unmistakable.

Was Maekar with a woman in there? Some servant or perhaps a whore from Wintertown? No, Maekar would never stoop so low as to pay for whores. It must be Lana, the servant that had been eyeing Maekar since he arrived in the castle. It seemed she finally got her wish.

Shame flooded her as she turned to retreat, but her curiosity burned hotter.

‘No, Sansa, what are you doing?’ she thought.

‘One little peek,’ a part of her mind whispered.

Against her better judgment, she pushed the door gently, testing it. To her surprise, it was unlocked. The gap widened slightly, just enough for her to peek inside.

Sansa's heart pounded in her chest as she gently pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. The sight that greeted her was both shocking and mesmerizing. Maekar was there, his powerful body glistening with sweat, his muscles taut and defined. He was fucking a woman from behind, her ass raised high, her body trembling with each powerful thrust.

The woman's moans filled the room, wild and uninhibited. Her hands gripped the bedsheets tightly, her knuckles white as she braced herself against Maekar's relentless pace. Her red hair cascaded down her back in loose, damp waves, obscuring her face from Sansa's view.

‘Not Lana,’ Sansa thought. She did not have red hair.

She couldn't look away, her gaze locked onto what was happening in front of her. The woman's moans grew louder, more desperate, her body shaking with the force of Maekar's thrusts. "Yes, Maekar, fuck me," she cried out, her voice filled with raw, primal desire. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

‘I know that voice,’ Sansa thought, but she quickly dismissed it.

Sansa's body responded to the sight, a warmth spreading through her, her cunt growing wet with arousal. Her hands moved of their own accord, her fingers tracing the curves of her body. She bit her lip, stifling a soft moan as she watched Maekar fuck the woman with a fierce, unyielding passion.

The woman's moans grew louder, more desperate, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Sansa's fingers found their way to her cunt, her touch light, drawing out a soft gasp from deep within her.

She knew she shouldn't be watching, knew it was wrong, but she couldn't look away. The sight was too mesmerizing, so forbidden. She could feel her own desire building, her body aching with need, her mind racing with thoughts of what it would be like to be in that woman's place.

To Sansa’s surprise, Maekar suddenly stopped his thrusts, his body glistening with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The woman before him, her body trembling, turned to face him. She knelt before him, her movements eager and desperate as her lips wrapped around his cock, and she began to suck him with a fervor that bordered on madness.

‘What’ 

The sight of the woman's face shocked Sansa to her core. The air seemed to leave her lungs in an instant, her entire body freezing, her thoughts coming to a crashing halt. The woman's face was now clearly visible, disheveled and sweaty, her auburn hair glinting in the candlelight. It was a face Sansa saw every day, a face she knew as well as her own.

Her mother.

Sansa staggered back, nearly tripping over her own feet, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The realization hit her like a physical blow, the shock and disbelief coursing through her veins like ice. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, couldn't comprehend the reality of it.

Her mind was a whirlwind of disbelief, horror, and betrayal. Her hands trembled as she turned and stumbled back to her chambers, the images and sounds still echoing faintly in her ears. She barely made it to her bed before her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest.

Her mind felt numb, unable to process what she had just witnessed. Tears pricked at her eyes, though they didn’t fall. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? She wanted to scream, to cry, to pretend it was all just a terrible dream, but the image was seared into her memory.

Her mother. Maekar. Together.

Sansa’s hands clenched tightly, her breathing shallow and ragged as she tried to make sense of it all.

But no sense came.

.

.

Its been a while....