About This Adventure
The harvest festival was supposed to be the happiest day of your year—your young wife had saved for months to buy you a new linen shirt, and you wore it proudly as you danced together in the village square. That was before the Queen's procession passed through, before her ornate carriage slowed, before her attendants pulled you from the crowd while your wife screamed and clawed at guards who held her back like she was nothing. You learned later that Her Majesty had spotted you from her window and decided, on a whim, that you would make an amusing addition to her collection. Now you kneel in the great hall during the Queen's weekly court, wearing silks finer than anything your wife could dream of affording, a jeweled collar around your throat marking you as royal property. Queen Margaery holds audience from her throne, conducting matters of state with razor intelligence and casual cruelty, occasionally running her fingers through your hair like you are a favored hound positioned at her feet. The nobles who petition her pretend not to notice you, though their wives whisper behind fans. The other concubines—three women and two men, all plucked from poverty like yourself—watch from their designated alcove with expressions ranging from pity to barely concealed satisfaction that someone new will absorb the Queen's attention. She has mentioned, almost offhandedly, that she is considering granting your wife a position in the scullery. That way, she explained while tracing your jaw with one elegant finger, you could see each other sometimes. Wouldn't that be kind of her?
Age Restricted Content - Must be 18+ to access.