I had to decide.
✔ Do I let the North bleed? Let the wolves die, claim Sansa as my prize, and rule through her?
✔ Or do I keep the wolves alive, gaining their trust, fighting alongside them, and securing a comfortable position of power?
In truth, I did not care about thrones.
I was not a king. I was not a conqueror.
I was a man.
A man who enjoys wealth, luxury, and most of all—pleasure.
And that meant my decision was already made.
✔ I would not carve a kingdom from the ashes of Winterfell.
✔ I would not waste my life in endless wars for a throne I had no interest in.
✔ I would take what I wanted, keep myself wealthy, and surround myself with beautiful women willing to serve me.
That is the life I desire.
Not a crown.
Not a legacy.
Just wealth and women.
The Wolves Must Fight
But if I was to live this life, I needed to ensure one thing—I could not let the North fall too soon.
✔ If Ned Stark died too early, Winterfell would crumble.
✔ If Robb Stark fell before he bled the South, the power vacuum would shift too fast.
✔ If the North was too weak, it would be impossible to use it for my own gain.
I would let the wolves fight, let them struggle, let them shed blood.
But I would not let them die completely.
I would keep them just strong enough to be useful.
And if I played it right?
I could still take Sansa Stark for myself, regardless of the outcome.
The Life I Wanted
I smirked to myself.
I have no interest in wearing crowns or ruling over men.
✔ I do not want to sit on the Iron Throne.
✔ I do not want to be bound by responsibility.
✔ I do not want the burden of ruling a kingdom.
I wanted wealth, comfort, and pleasure.
I want to enjoy the finest food, drink the rarest wine, and lay with the most beautiful women in the world.
And most of all, I want women like Sansa Stark to willingly surrender themselves to me.
To crave me. To serve me. To belong to me.
That is my throne.
That is my kingdom.
And I will build it, piece by piece.