The Future of the Kingdom

Shh----

Squeak---

Squeak--

Squeak.

Shivering, The Imp gave little Tyrion a shake, then pulled up his trousers.

Theon Greyjoy...

"Little lion."

The sudden voice startled the distracted Tyrion. He turned his head with a trembling smile. "Oh, charming Lady Melisandre, you nearly made me piss myself."

"Only nearly?"

Melisandre wore a hooded crimson cloak. When she moved, he could glimpse the blood-red gauze dress beneath it, and deeper inside... Tyrion's Adam's apple bobbed.

Tyrion turned around, clasped his small hands behind his back, and looked up at her with his head held high. Grinning, he said, "Good day. Please forgive its presumption, my lady."

Melisandre chuckled. Her ample breasts quivered slightly beneath the thin cloak fabric, and Tyrion could not help imagining himself making them shake.

Meeting Tyrion's scorching gaze, she smiled faintly. "It seems the cold winds of The Wall have failed to extinguish your passion, adorable little lion."

Tyrion quickly withdrew his gaze and said humbly, "Beautiful lady, in truth, not even white snow could conceal your charm. Alas, no one can resist your flames. I am merely one of them."

"I like that mischievous tongue of yours."

Melisandre extended a hand toward Tyrion. "Two men once rejected my flames. I am pleased that you are not the third."

Tyrion glanced at Melisandre's pale, slender fingers, then wiped his own hand on his clothes before bending to take hers.

"Clearly, those two men had special preferences. Such as not liking women."

A somewhat ingratiating expression appeared on Tyrion's face as Melisandre's husky, low voice sounded. "One was the Onion Knight, and the other was..."

Her ruby-like eyes shifted as she looked down at him. "Lord Crabb."

At her words, Tyrion's heart skipped a beat, but he said indignantly, "Oh, I do not know that smuggler very well..."

After