The King must know

Ned pushed away, causing Cersei to fall back on her naked backside. Eddard fled his tent quickly, stuffing his cock back into it's confines as he breached the cold outdoors.

He wandered through the camp in a funk, images of the proud, haughty queen on her knees in front of him playing through his mind. It was dark, Ned could not see but five feet without a torch, but by and large he found himself in front of the King's tent.

The Guard seemed to stiffen as he passed by, as soft feminine laughter echoed from the grand tent. He slowly approached the opening unhindered by the frozen bodyguards.

Pushing apart the flaps, he entered the King's pavilion, to find torches blazing, ensconced on the poles, a small but lavish table of wine and food, several immodestly clothed camp followers relaxing on cushions, and a lithe redheaded form mounting the King's girth with an inhuman vitality. The redhead giggled, "what would my father think my Liege?"