"You're just a soldier, isn't it? You were never taught how to rule," Cersei spoke mockingly, seeing the man in front of her think that honor could save him.
"I was taught how to kill." Ned Stark didn't back down, saying it without looking away from the woman's eyes.
"So was I." Cersei just smiled and left the room with a flare, leaving Ned Stark even more certain that he was getting closer to unearthing something that would shake the realm.
Cersei learned what Ned was up to these days from her spies. Everything was fine until Ned decided to visit Gendry at the blacksmith's shop. That's when one of her spies informed her of what was going on. Cersei was quick to figure out what Ned Stark was doing, and by no means would she let him do as he pleased.
For her kids, Cersei could do anything, even if it came to killing; she would resort to it.
As she came out of Ned Stark's room, a frustrated expression appeared on her face. This matter should have died with the death of Jon Arryn. Letting Robert take Stark as his Hand was a mistake. She had so wanted her father to take the role, but alas, that pig of a king wouldn't listen to her.
She was about to rush back to her chamber and get something nice to eat before thinking about how to deal with Ned Stark when she heard a man's voice. Usually, she wouldn't care, but she had heard this deep voice before. Only once, but she couldn't forget it even if she wanted to. Before she knew it, her legs were already moving toward where the sound came from.
What she saw almost froze her on the spot. There was an incredibly handsome and muscular man doing pull-ups on some sort of makeshift rod.
Bare-chested.
Every time he pulled himself up, his muscles moved like mountains shifting on the surface of the earth. He was sweating, the air in the room was stuffy and hot, and his scent filled the space.
Cersei gulped. Unknowingly, her legs came a little closer. No matter how she tried, she couldn't take her eyes off that strong, muscular back, which felt like every muscle was made of iron.
The man was doing a strange exercise that Cersei had no knowledge of, but she couldn't care less. All she wanted now was for him not to stop. The man she was staring at was no ordinary man. Thor immediately sensed someone behind him. He didn't stop immediately because he was in the middle of a set.
Sensing no harm coming his way, he continued until he finally hit a thousand pull-ups, then dropped down. As he turned back to see who it was, he saw the queen rubbing her neck like she had a bad sore. There was sweat on her forehead, and she looked slightly dazed.
"How may I help you?" Thor asked, making Cersei immediately stop her wandering hand. Good thing she had only reached for her neck and thighs.
Only after hearing his voice did she realize who this person was—the foreigner. And by the Seven, he was magnificent…
It might have been months of sexual tension without any relief, but she felt her insides getting hot and moist. There stood a tall, muscular, handsome god of a man, topless, sweat glistening on his body, looking directly at her like she was his prey.
In reality, Thor was looking at her with confusion. What was she doing here? He had no idea, but he felt like she was looking at him strangely.
"The Seven have blessed you with a strong body." She suddenly spoke. It felt more like a threat coming from Cersei than a compliment. Did she know about his dealings? Thor paused and thought.
"Not as much as they have given you beauty." Which, in Thor's eyes, meant none, as the Seven had nothing to do with his powers.
"Do people often train like that where you come from?" she asked as she slowly walked closer, her face slightly tilted to the side, staring at him.
Thor just nodded, trying to figure out what she was after. If she was here, there had to be a reason.
"They say strong warriors have marks, while exceptional ones have none." Cersei slowly raised her hand and stroked his arm. Thor, for his part, just stood there, keeping his eyes on her, still trying to decipher her intentions.
She roamed around him, looking at every inch of him until her eyes fell on something she had almost forgotten. Her mind, high on lust, settled down upon seeing the mark that had concerned her so much in recent days.
"Wounds are indeed a warrior's pride, a mark that they lived to tell the tale while their opponent did not."
"So, you're one of those exceptions, I presume?" Cersei was now behind him, admiring his broad back while caressing it with her hands. When he wasn't looking, she took a deep breath of his masculine scent.
Only the Seven knew how much this was waking a primal fire inside her. It was getting unbearable. Her hand went up to slowly massage one of her breasts while another hand kept on tracing his back.
There was heat building between her legs. She knew that with just one touch, she would be a watery mess. By the Seven, she just wanted to claim him right now, order him to kneel before her, press into her until she couldn't move anymore.
However, she had more important matters to sort out first.
"Then what about this one?" She asked as she caressed the strange mark on his shoulder, reminding her of a past she never wanted to recall.
"Birthmark." Thor replied. He was on guard against her. Though she had no visible weapons, he wouldn't put it past Cersei to use an underhanded trick on him.
At his reply, Cersei paused, hesitant to ask another question. Her mind was in turmoil, constantly putting her in conflict.
She had more questions—about his origins, his parents, that mark. Was there any chance that he was her son? Impossible as it may have sounded, that mark… she couldn't get it out of her mind.
And yet, her body had a mind of its own. Her hands were massaging her breast while her breathing grew ragged. Her other hand was dangerously close to the junction between her legs. She knew that if she touched it, she wouldn't be able to stop herself.
"Why is a handsome and strong man like you here alone? You should be in the company of fair maidens." She gulped and asked while forcing herself to tear her hand out of her dress and walk back in front of him.
"A man who can't control his own lust will only become a beast. A real man needs no more than one woman he calls his own, to share his bed, fortune, and life." Thor replied awkwardly. He was beginning to think her motives were something else entirely.
Was she beautiful? Yes.
Was she fuckable? Very much so.
But by Odin's beard, he would not put himself anywhere near this crazy woman, even if she were the last woman alive in the Nine Realms. There was no way he was falling for this vixen's act.
However, his words did more harm than good. Hearing him, a genuine smile spread across Cersei's face. This felt like a smack in her husband's face.
"Then maybe you should start finding that one. Don't hesitate to come over if you need any help. I'll be more than willing to provide all you need." She was now dangerously close, making Thor recoil slightly. He was very close to pushing her away.
"No need. I'd rather not disturb you…" Thor's eyes hardened as he said this in the coldest voice he could muster.
It didn't work. If anything, it excited Cersei the wrong way. She suddenly felt an imposing aura from him, and it turned her on even more.
"Nah… if it's you, then—" She said, her finger tracing across his chest while she bit down on her lips. "Then, I'll allow it."
She turned back. If Thor didn't know better, there was an extra sway in her hips as she exited the room, throwing one last sultry glance his way.
Thor just stood there, his mind recalling her touch and her face. He was getting aroused. This was bad, really bad.
He understood now what she was after—seduction. Why? He had no idea, but he wouldn't allow it.
"Train harder. Meditate more. Don't let her win," he muttered to himself.
"To the grind…"
xxx
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