Thomas had been running the tavern with a meticulous routine these past few days, his new bridge bringing in more customers than ever before. He had already made back what he spent on the boat bridge, and the profits were steadily climbing. But the success brought with it a sense of unease; he knew the Goldcloaks would eventually come demanding a cut or threaten to tear the bridge down altogether.
The new entrance was becoming a preferred shortcut, allowing people to move between districts more easily than having to walk a kilometer out of their way to cross the river. Business was booming, and it seemed like just another ordinary day until word reached him that King Robert Baratheon, along with Lord Eddard Stark and their retinue, had arrived in King's Landing from the North. The city was abuzz with the news, merchants chattering, taverns bustling, and courtiers scheming in anticipation. The timeline was beginning, and Thomas knew it. He calculated that there might be nine months left before the chaos of the War of the Five Kings erupted.
Determined to prepare, he decided to visit Ros that morning. He knew that once the royal retinue arrived in earnest, events would start accelerating, and he wanted to ensure that Ros was safe from the grim fate he remembered from his previous life. When Thomas arrived at the brothel and asked for Ros, the madam at the entrance told him plainly that she was not meeting with customers.
"Just a conversation," Thomas insisted.
"She's not taking anyone," the madam replied sternly.
Ignoring her, Thomas walked down the hallway towards Ros's room. "She won't see you!" the madam called after him, her voice carrying an edge of irritation. Thomas pushed open the door to Ros's chamber to find her sitting on the bed, a dark bruise coloring her left eye. The sight of it twisted something in his gut.
He knelt beside her, touching the swollen skin with a gentle hand. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.
"Some lord," she replied bitterly, "wanted to bite, I allowed him, He bit too hardd. I pushed him back, and he hit me."
His jaw clenched. "Who was it?" he asked. "Tell me, and I'll take care of it."
She shook her head. "The guards dealt with it. It's not your fight, Thomas." She took a shallow breath, wincing slightly. "I'm fine. I'll be all right." There was a defiant edge to her voice, but also a hint of resignation.
Thomas's voice softened. "You don't have to stay here, Ros. Come with me. You don't have to keep going through this."
She looked at him with a wry smile. "It hurts to move but if you want.." she said. "You can take me while I lay down"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to hurt you, even if you could. This isn't about that. I'm offering you a way out."
Her expression softened, then hardened again, a knowing look in her eye. "You and I both know what it's like, that constant need," she whispered. "I know you want it and I can do it if we—"
Thomas cut her off gently. "I have other ways to take care of that," he said. "You can come work at my tavern. You'd still have what you need, and you wouldn't have to stay here."
Ros's eyes glinted with a spark of curiosity. "What's the catch?" she asked, though she reached out and traced a finger along the front of his breeches, as if testing his sincerity. "It sounds too generous."
Thomas took a breath. "The only catch is that you'll have scratch my itch which is basically you scratching yours" he replied.
She nodded. "Still is too generous as My mother sold me for two hundred and seventy gold dragons, The madam won't let me go without payment."
Thomas winced internally; that was over half of what he had saved. But the sight of her bruised face and the look in her eyes compelled him. He wasn't going to abandon her to a life of servitude and death in the hands of filth like Joffrey. He stood and left the room, making his way to the madam.
"I'm buying Ros," he said simply, dropping a purse of coins onto the table. The heavy pouch landed with a metallic clink, its weight clear to both of them. "Two hundred and seventy dragons. Paid in full."
The madam's gaze flickered between the purse and Thomas's stern expression. She picked up the purse, counting the coins inside before nodding. "She's yours."
With Ros leaning on him for support and saying he did not have to do that for the rest of the time, Thomas brought her back to the tavern. When Marla and Lyra saw the new arrival, they exchanged looks of surprise. They weren't shocked to see him bring home another woman, but Ros's bruises and frail state were unexpected. They immediately tended to her wounds, applying salves and gently dabbing at the bruising.
Later, as Ros rested in one of the spare rooms, Thomas found himself alone with Marla. "I'm sorry," he said. "I spent two hundred and seventy dragons for Ross."
Marla raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot," she remarked, trying to keep her voice even. "Why?"
Thomas looked down, his expression conflicted. "I need someone like her for my itch I can't always rely on you and lyra" he admitted, "and I didn't want to see her suffer. She reminded me of Lyra when we first met and that time she got hurt."
Marla studied him for a moment before resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's your money, Thomas," she said quietly. "And your decision."
"No, it's not just mine," he replied firmly. "We're in this together."
Marla sighed. "Thomas, no matter what we share in this place, you're still paying us." She looked toward the room where Ros was resting. "But... I understand why you did it. We're all broken here, in our own ways." She glanced at him, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "If Ros fits in, then maybe this is where she belongs too. The fact you even talk to me like an equal in the Tavern was enough"
---
The rain fell steadily, making the streets of King's Landing thick with mud. The bridge saw more use than ever, with people crossing to avoid the worst of the mire. It was a profitable evening, but Thomas had a feeling something was off. Just as the tavern was filling up with customers, a group of Goldcloaks entered. Their armor gleamed despite the dreary weather, and they ordered everyone to leave, forcing patrons into the pouring rain. There were some grumbles, but no one dared argue with the city's guards.
Thomas took a deep breath, steadying himself as he approached the Goldcloak in charge. "I'm the owner," he said politely. "If there's an issue, perhaps we can discuss compensation?"
The Goldcloak looked him up and down. "So, you're the one running this place," he said. "We're not shutting you down, don't worry. But we do expect some service. Thirty-seven meals, set the tables."
Thomas gave a slow nod, masking his relief. "Right away," he said, signaling Marla to begin preparing the meat. As they worked, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the end of the disruption.
Moments later, a deep rumble echoed through the tavern as footsteps filled the air. The boat bridge trembled under the weight of men marching across it. Thomas's heart raced as he saw the Kingsguard Ser Barristan Selmy appear at the front, followed by King Robert himself, with Queen Cersei, Prince Joffrey, and Lord Stark in tow. Thomas immediately dropped to one knee.
"Get up," Robert grumbled, waving him off. "No need for that here. We're just looking for some food and a dry place."
Thomas rose and composed himself. The sight of the King's imposing figure and Lord Stark's calm demeanor set him on edge. Robert's eyes drifted to the makeshift bridge. "What's that contraption?"
Thomas kept his tone formal. "Your Grace, four days ago, the boat crashed into my counter room during a rainstorm. I salvaged what I could and repurposed it as a bridge."
Lord Stark turned his gaze toward Thomas. "And your patrons don't mind?"
"They find it convenient, my lord," Thomas answered. "It saves them a muddy walk, and the toll helps maintain the bridge."
Robert let out a booming laugh. "A man who builds his own road and collects his own tolls! What do you think, Ned?" he said, looking at Lord Stark. "Should we start charging to cross the Blackwater Rush?"
The jest brought a small chuckle from Lord Stark, though Thomas remained cautious. He could feel Cersei's cold gaze lingering on him, appraising every word he said. He chose his next words carefully. "Your Grace, my lords, if you would permit, I will prepare a meal fit for the occasion but perhaps could I know why the Royal Retinue chose my Tavern"
Ser Barristan spoke up. "The path to the Red Keep is flooded, and our carriages are stuck. The other taverns along the way are already full."
Thomas felt a wave of relief. They weren't here because of him—at least not yet. "Thank you for visiting my Tavern. It would be an hono, my lords," he said, "to provide shelter and sustenance. Perhaps some entertainment as well, if you would like?"
Cersei scoffed. "We have Our own entertainers."
Ser Barristan answered saying "They are still stuck in the Mud, your grace"
Thomas bowed his head slightly. "If I may, Your Grace, we have a minstrel here. She will sing a song for your pleasure." He quickly excused himself to the kitchen, where Lyra was waiting. He whispered the song he wanted her to perform and hurried back to the task of preparing a meal worthy of royalty.
He put everything he had learned from his past life into the dishes—spiced beef with rosemary, roasted chicken with garlic and herbs, pork ribs glazed in honey. The rich aroma filled the tavern, and Thomas sent out each dish with Marla, who carried the plates gracefully.
A short while later, Marla slipped back into the kitchen, her eyes bright with excitement. "Lyra is singing beautifully," she whispered. "The king and his men are listening closely. Some are even crying"
Thomas nodded, a grin forming on his face. "Good," he murmured, and leaned in to plant a quick, heated kiss on her lips before gently pushing her back out to continue serving the food.
As he worked, he kept an ear out for Lyra's voice rising and falling in the background, her melody weaving its way through the murmurs of the tavern. It wasn't just food that kept people coming back; it was the atmosphere, the experience. And tonight, Thomas intended to make sure that King Robert and his court remembered "The Future" as a place worthy of their time.