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GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag 30 - Chatty Women, King's Road & Dangling Beauty
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 19:43:15 +0000 UTCIt had been five months since Robert ended the Lannister rebellion. It had been five months since he'd been a married man. It didn't take long before the Lords from all across the Seven Kingdoms rushed to the Red Keep to pledge their allegiance to him once again, a message that they stood with him. Even Prince Doran came personally, finally surrendering to the King's Throne.
The rumors were rumors, but most nobles had access to spies, and spies didn't lie. The nobles knew that Robert was blessed with godly strength and it was insanity to go against him. The men of the Tyrell army that Robert had spared told the story in every tavern, each more exaggerated than the last.
In five months, peace returned to the Seven Kingdoms. And more than that, prosperity had also arrived. All of the Crown's debts were paid, and the Iron Bank also sent ten million gold dragons as their compensation.
The Crown had the money, an heir, a queen, and soon more.
Amidst all that, despite all the death and sadness, Margaery was the happiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. She dearly missed her family, but she took solace in the fact that she fulfilled her father and grandfather's dream. She was now the queen, her son would be the next King and…
"I hope it's a girl this time." Margaery caressed her softly bloated belly, her face flushed, her thick, long, wavy brown hair combed behind her, her body a little fuller due to the changes of motherhood. She sat in the pavilion overlooking the sea, the breeze was gentle, and due to the approaching winter, it wasn't that hot.
"Why? I've never heard anyone wanting a daughter." Myrcella asked, seated opposite the Queen, relaxed, tasting some fruits. Unlike Margaery, Myrcella hadn't changed much. Still the same slender, beautiful, golden-haired beauty. Though some would say she looked more feminine now for some reason, more than ever before.
Margaery caressed her belly and looked down, her large brown eyes smiling. "So the next King has someone to protect. And I, for one, am quite eager to see just how lovely our daughter will be—especially if she inherits his height.”
"Now I'm interested to know that." Myrcella eyed the pregnant woman, all smiles, not a hint of jealousy and malice. She was happy with the deal she had received. "Can't wait to be an aunt, again."
Giggling, Margaery eyed the golden-curled woman. Over the first three months of her marriage with Robert, her husband had stayed true to his vows and promises. Each night was unlike anything—scentful, dirty, loud, full of bodily pleasure. She never imagined herself falling for a man like Robert before, but now, she found herself longing to enter his bedchamber every night and spread her legs with as much allure as she could.
No moon teas, no holding back. They made love every night, and every day, and it always ended with him spilling his seed. Well, there were certain occasions where she teased him with her mouth. But she couldn't say she didn't enjoy it.
The highlight of her married life was when Robert had her on the throne in the middle of the night. The thrill of possibly being seen, the location, his mighty arms, his lap where she rode him sitting, it tickled her mind.
And sure enough, after countless occasions of him spilling his virile batter deep inside her young, fertile cunt, she became pregnant once again. She was overjoyed, and somewhat disheartened. They continued their filthy, sexual adventures for a month after her pregnancy, but then the Maester warned them not to do it anymore. Robert was too big in every way, it wasn't good for her body to get battered so much.
Begrudgingly, but acceptingly, she transferred her duties to her closest friend, Myrcella. Since Robert focused on her for so long, Myrcella was left unsatisfied, and finally, she got the chance.
"I see you still can't sit straight." Margaery sipped some juice and giggled at Myrcella constantly shifting in her seat.
Myrcella chuckled and shrugged. "I know it's been three days... It was my decision. I thought I had the courage to take him from behind. But it was more than I imagined. Still... if I take it slow, I think I’ll manage."
At that, Margaery leaned forward over the table and looked her friend in the emerald eyes. "How was it? The experience?"
Myrcella knew no shame and proudly divulged the secrets. "He's big, too big."
"Tell me something new."
"Heh—He was gentle. But I don't think I'll make it regular. It wasn't as amusing as I expected. I rather prefer to take him the normal way, or just… Oh… I'm feeling hot. I love slathering his that… with my mouth. I just rub my entire face against his big, thick… sweet thing. I just… ram my face into his sack and lick him there and… It just makes me feel so hot."
"Really? And he likes it?" Margaery asked in amusement.
"I think so. Whenever I do it, he grabs my head and pushes me in harder. I just lick him more then—Oh, what about you? What's your favorite position?"
It was insanity. What they were discussing was truly vile and bordered on unhinged. But as the two were obsessed with the same man in different ways, it was normal for them.
"You first," Margaery asked back, a little ashamed to admit it first.
Unlike her, Myrcella instantly confessed. "Oh, where do I start? It's all amazing, but my favorite has to be when he's on top. Oooooh… When he's on top, all the way inside me, I can just feel him so deep, so full, stretching me like a tight grip forced wide. His big body, his mighty arms hug around my head, his big chest, I feel his chest hair tickling my breast and then I just kiss him, totally drowned and vanished under this weight. All I feel is him, and only him, stretched, my legs spread as he shatters every control I hold with his constant drilling—Mmm… I already miss it."
Slightly wide-eyed, Margaery smiled. Of course, she'd felt that too, the exact same thing. It was hot and she absolutely felt what Myrcella was saying. But it wasn't her favorite. "To me, that one is perhaps my second most liked position. It's more of an ending where I've lost all strength and submit to him until he spills inside me."
"Oh? Then what's your most favorite?"
"Lifted." Margaery dreamily replied. "He's so tall and strong that no matter what, I feel like a helpless damsel before him. But when he lifts me up in his arms, his arms underneath my knees as he dangles me on his big, needy thing. I love that feeling, as I get to kiss his lips while he takes me. It feels even better when he push—"
"Pushes you against the wall?" Myrcella finished what Margaery was saying. "I know exactly what you're saying, Your Grace. Well, no matter what, we end up battered, unable to stand, barely awake and conscious by the time he's done."
"And that's the most intoxicating part, isn't it?" Margaery fondly smiled. "He's so needy. He used to thrash my breasts with his tongue and drink up everything greedily, claiming it was fine since I'm his woman. I had to find a milkmaid for our son—Not that I hated it… He made me feel wonderful."
A little bit of jealousy flashed through Myrcella's eyes. Her deal with Robert was to never sire his seed even though he always finished inside her. She stayed true to her promise, but knowing she would never experience her breasts swelling and being drained by the man she was obsessed with disappointed her.
"But where has he gone, I wonder? It’s been days now, and he hardly sets foot in the Red Keep anymore," Margaery said lightly, though her brow was faintly furrowed. "And that girl from Naath—he took her with him, didn’t he?"
"Missandei." Myrcella nodded, sharing the Queen's concern. "He's working on Harrenhal."
####
With the realm at peace, Robert had nothing much to do. How many times could he bed Margaery and Myrcella every day? At one point, he felt useless, so he headed out to do things himself. He had the strength that was illogical, so he used it.
Going north on the Kingsroad, he decided to widen the road and make it fully paved with massive stone blocks. He had the manpower and the money, and he personally used his strength to lift entire blocks of rocks and stack them on the ground. He worked nonstop, finding some purpose in the work.
Most considered it beneath him, but the smallfolk loved him for it. They would occasionally stop by to watch him do the unthinkable, carrying rocks that weighed tons around with mere grunts. Some smallfolk brought him food, and he even held the court regularly right out there in the field.
Leaving Stannis behind to run the city, and the new Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion was in charge of coin, Robert lived tension-free and did what he was known for—might.
But as he kept making the road and going further North, he eventually arrived at the massive, ruined castle of Harrenhal. It was empty now, under no Lord's command. The last owner was butchered by Tywin's army.
"I'll fix it." Robert declared with a much deeper intent behind it. But he stayed mum at the start and started preparing.
He called for builders to draw him a plan so the massive castle could be returned to its past glory. It was the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, so it was a massive undertaking.
But he was willing to put in the work, and he did just that. Stacking stones, building the roofs, fixing the walls, and creating new support beams. He slowly worked on the many towers of the castle. Heck, the gatehouse of the castle alone was as large as Winterfell's Great Keep.
Robert didn't mind. It kept him busy and his mind occupied. There were no dragons left, and he wanted to erase their legacy. The ruined castle was a reminder of the old days. But, he did wish for a dragon to occupy the castle in the future. It won't belong to him, but the Crown, yet it'd remain the new Lord's home.
Though, currently, he was a little preoccupied with a certain woman from Naath. He had just finished one of the main towers and set up the massive room that would belong to the castle's Lord. And for inaugurating that room and that bed, he was joined by Missandei.
She had been with him during his senseless outing, and he didn't hate it at all.
By now, he had restricted himself to only four women. Margaery, his queen, Missandei, Rhaea, and Myrcella. He knew it was immoral, but taking note of his extremely high sex drive, he felt it was the best solution.
"Gaaaaah! Seven hells! You… you're tight as ever, Missandei!" Robert groaned as he glided his entire girthy, thick cock through Missandei's hot cunt.
"Oooooh! Yes…. I… I'm… glad… Mmmmmmh! Please, please… More!"
Pa!
Robert slapped her ass closest to his reach, hard enough that a red palm etched on her dusky skin. He loomed, standing at the edge of the bed, bare and massive, his thick cock drilling with no mercy.
Missandei lay sideways across the mattress, her knees curled toward her chest, both legs tightly pressed together, letting her ass dangle invitingly off the bed’s edge. Her slick little slit peeked between her thighs, glistening and snug, curved perfectly for him.
With feral grunts, Robert shoved himself into her in a greedy thrust, burying his entire cock to the hilt. Her tightness hugged him like a scorching hot vise. After weeks of being ravaged by him, her body had learned how to take his full size, barely. He growled when he saw her tiny toes curl and twitch in response, her legs trembling while his shaft speared deep with no restraint.
“Ohh… Oh yes, Your Grace! Take me! Harder!” she wailed, a breathless cry of need. Her neck arched all the way back, mouth wide open and eyes unfocused, the pleasure stretching her spine like a taut bow. Her breasts bounced wildly with every pounding thrust, her nipples flicking the air like begging for his tongue.
Pa!
Another palm landed on her jiggling asscheek, raw and stinging, and she whimpered at the delicious sting. Her back arched deeper, her ass rolling with each blow, each thrust, as if it lived just to be used by him.
“So good… Keep me like this forever… My King! Under your magnificent… cock,” she gasped, almost dazed, her words broken between each ragged breath. She used to keep her mouth shut initially during their sexual encounters. But after months of rough, ravaging nights, she let her mind and tongue join and blabber whatever she felt.
She spoke as if in delirium. Her body trembled under the weight of every plunge that dragged her closer to pure bliss.
Pa!
His hand came down again, this time with even more force, making her flinch and cry out.
Robert’s eyes gleamed with raw hunger as he grabbed hold of her thigh, thick fingers sinking into the plush dusky meat. He gripped her waist with the other hand, pinning her down, controlling every twist and bounce as he rammed himself in with unrelenting rhythm.
The weight of her sideways folded legs squeezing her pussy only made her tighter. Her silky, clenching core squeezed the king’s cock like a wet fist. Every squelching slide of her walls stroked him perfectly, so snug and greedy it felt like her body was trying to keep him inside forever, kneading him with every thrust.
“Oh oh… Yes! Harder! Deeper!” she cried out again. The sloppy friction of his cock inside her echoed, a constant rhythm of slaps, groans, and the sound of her body giving in completely.
She used to worry; about her future, about what it meant to be taken to King’s Landing. Would she be caged again, dressed up, and used as property by another powerful man? But Robert surprised her. He gave her silver, gave her freedom, gave her books, tutors, and choice. He even offered to find her a husband, a nobleman of high standing. But none of them would have let her live so freely. None of them would have let her choose. And she chose Robert. She chose this, his brutal cock, his wild hands, his untamed passion. It was hers, and she wanted every rough second of it.
Pa!
Another ass-marking slap stole her thoughts away, jolting her into the present. The searing sting was followed immediately by another deep plunge, grinding and ruthless. Her legs trembled as she felt it coming. The gathering storm deep in her belly, the heat tightening like an angry, vicious grip, her body ready to explode with pleasure.
She bit the sheets, moaning around the fabric, her voice raw and trembling. Her ass jerked backward, her spine stiffening into a perfect curve. Her toes curled like claws, her entire body locking up; and then, an explosion of electrifying sparks.
Her climax surged through her like wildfire. “Ummphh! Mmm-y Kingh—ng! Mmph!”
“Gods!” Robert growled, sweat glistening on his chest. “You… milk me this hard… every time! I… I’m glad we met…”
There was no jest in his tone, no boisterous man of the past. Just the man he had become—heavy with lust, yet steady, sure, and fully at peace with the passion he shared with the four women who’d chosen him.
Missandei’s cunt clamped down on him with rhythmic, desperate pulses, squeezing as though trying to drink every drop from his thick cock, and he loved it. The sensation was maddening. Each squelching pump inside her slick love tunnel was more intense than the last, his tip bumping gently but insistently against the back wall of her cunt; her cervix nudged by his girthy length like it was being kissed by a stubborn, clinging lover.
Robert groaned deeply, chest rumbling, as thick ropes of his load poured into her welcoming depths. Spurt after greedy spurt soaked her womb in white, the hot flood mixing with her juices into a frothy, creamy mess that churned inside her like an erotic potion.
His hips bucked forward again and again, fucking her like he meant to rearrange her insides.
Her breath hitched each time he thrust deeper than before, stuffing her so full she swore she could feel him pressing against the curve of her stomach.
When he pulled out slowly and plunged it back in, a wet slap was followed by a wet squelch. His virile balm oozed from her battered, sore folds, spattering the edge of the bed in messy bursts.
Eventually, Robert eased out, thick cock gleaming with their shared filth. He stepped back slowly, never breaking eye contact with the sight between her squeezed legs. Her pussy twitched, visibly flexing as it squelched out the glistening remnants of his seed, a slow, creamy drip leaking over her dark inner thighs.
Missandei lay boneless, her limbs too weak to move, her body wrecked and wonderfully used. Her cunt still throbbed, flushed, and parted, leaking shamelessly. A purring sound slipped lazily from her nose, content and faint, as if her whole body exhaled in blissful surrender. She wasn’t just satisfied; she was cherished, fucked full, and adored.
"We'll move ahead to work on the road next. Just focusing on the castle will take forever." Robert said, naked as the day he was born, muscled up, his belly reduced to a working man's belly; still there, but not that fat. “If your heart longs for King’s Landing, go. I’ll not chain you.”
He poured himself a big cup of wine from the table and walked back towards Missandei. She looked absolutely gorgeous as she sat up by the edge of the bed, her thighs dirty, creamed up white, her golden eyes such a view, and her curly hair drenched in sweat. Her thin, pouty lips panted, her eyes drunk on sex.
Missandei shook her head and watched the King approach and stand so close to her that his knees touched her dangling legs, and his cock, still half-hard, dangled right in front of her face thanks to his height.
Missandei knew exactly what was to come next. She was the one who suggested it, after all.
"No, I want to see more of Westeros," Missandei replied in her soft accented common tongue. Though, she never looked away from his cock that was at half-hardness, and was already what most men had at their peak.
Robert nodded and raised the big cup of wine, bringing it adjacent to his abdomen, near the center. He looked intently at the beautiful Naathi, her slender body a work of art and her eyes just mesmerized him.
"But I'll only take you till the Twins. The land beyond that is just… cold and barren. Nothing to see." Robert declared and tipped the glass a little, letting the expensive wine drip down straight on his veiny cock, coating its tip, its girth, sliding to cover his balls in that scentful veneer of wine.
Missandei instantly lowered her face to his cock, swallowing his entire length. His half-flaccid state was the only time she could swallow him whole, and this time, it tasted like god's nectar.
"Ummmmh!"
Her moans buzzed around him, lips stretched wide as she worked his shaft. She licked from the base to the tip with lazy adoration, slurping audibly as though every inch of his cock was her favorite treat. Her tongue curled against the crown, flicking at the slit until he twitched against her mouth.
“Umhhh..” She moaned again as her throat wrapped around him, working the lazy girth of his swelling manhood with practiced ease. Her tongue slithered around the shaft, chasing droplets of wine with greedy licks. His cock thickened inside her, slowly expanding, and she suckled harder, lapping up every bit of wine that clung to his skin like she needed it to live.
Robert poured another thin stream of wine down his abdomen. The cold trickle slithered over his skin before dripping onto his shaft. The shocking chill of the wine mixed with the scorching warmth of her mouth, set fire to his nerves. His balls tightened beneath the sweet torture.
Missandei stayed latched on, her mouth working his length like a woman possessed. Every wet slurp echoed with hunger. When she felt him reach nearly full girth, she backed off slightly, licking circles around his swollen tip, slathering her spit across it before dragging her tongue along his shaft, teasingly slow.
Robert tilted the goblet again, letting the final pour of wine splash over his lower belly, trailing down to the base of his cock, wetting the thick roots of his dark pubes, and soaking his balls in a chill that made his cock throb.
Missandei gently shoved his cock aside with her cheek and leaned in low, lapping at his balls like a starving worshiper. Her lips sucked in each drop of the wine, her mouth hot and sloppy against his sack. She groaned like it was the finest wine she’d ever tasted, nosing into the mess while her tongue cleaned every trace.
By now, he stood fully hard. His cock jutted upward, heavy and proud, and the goblet was empty.
Missandei rose up slowly, her tongue dragging over his faint pubes, licking the last traces of wine off his skin. Her hands stayed busy below, massaging his jewels with gentle squeezes while the other hand stroked the full, veiny length of him.
Gods! Myrcella would have burned a village to be in Missandei's place. Robert thought, chuckling. He was fully aware of how obsessed Myrcella was with sucking and licking him down there. It was like a religion to her.
Missandei stood fully, her glistening lips curling into a sultry smile as she flicked her tongue over his nipple. Her hand kept stroking his cock in slow, worshipful pumps. Her smooth body was bathed in candlelight, swaying in front of him like temptation incarnate.
Robert’s big hand found her waist, gripping her like a man who owned every inch of her. He maneuvered them both toward the nearest wall, shuffling her step by step until her back thudded gently against the cold stone.
In one fluid move, he turned her around, positioning her exactly how he wanted.
She raised her hands, pressing them to the wall, her back arching in graceful submission. Her ass pushed out, round and perfect, curving like a ripe fruit just waiting to be plucked. Her spine bowed as she tilted her hips, offering herself completely, no shame, only hunger.
Robert dropped his gaze, marveling at her. He spread her cheeks wide with both hands, and the soft heat of her sweat met his palms. That dusky, flawless skin begged for his touch. He watched the way her tight little ring puckered and twitched, that wrinkled star nestled between her cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, he brought the head of his cock to that forbidden entrance and began to tease it, rubbing it in gentle circles over her tightest point.
"How about I take this?"
"Umh…" Missandei tightened her fist on the wall and nodded her head. "P-Please be gentle."
"Hah! I was jesting, woman—After Myrcella, I don't think I'll ever try that again." His words were followed by a low, lewd chuckle, and then a tender press of his lips to the silk of her back, his beard grazing her like static heat.
He kissed her slowly down the curve of her spine, leaving warm, wet kisses trailing like dripping wax down her glowing skin. His cock throbbed as he rubbed it between her trembling thighs, sliding over her soaked slit again and again. Her lower lips hugged him hungrily, twitching with need, every motion coating him in her nectar and teasing him maddeningly close to the edge.
Then, rising back up, Robert angled his hips and pressed the tip inside her. A deep groan rolled from his chest as he sank in slowly, inch by inch. Her tight heat clung to him, hot and snug, a scalding embrace that sucked him in like a greedy whirlpool. The stretch made his skin crawl with pleasure, and his eyes rolled halfway shut.
She swallowed him, inch after inch, a hot sheath squeezing down as though her pussy would lock him in forever.
“Ghhh!”
With a primal grunt, he shoved the last half of his cock into her in one vicious slam, hips snapping forward with a thunderous slap that echoed through the chamber.
“Ahh!” Missandei yelped. Her head fell forward as her cheek smacked against the cold stone. Her hands barely caught her as her legs buckled, her chest heaved, lips parted in a stunned moan.
"Ugh… This is annoying…" Robert cursed at the difference in their height. Having to crouch his knees to be at her cunt's level. The half-crouching wasn’t doing his rhythm any favors. "Alright."
But he was the strongest living man. Nothing was impossible for him. He had never done it before, but he knew Missandei wouldn't mind.
He gripped her narrow waist with both hands, just above her hips—and with a flex of his titanic muscles, lifted her rear. His cock never once slipped out.
Missandei’s toes left the floor completely, dangling as her back arched in a perfect, mouth-watering curve. Her palms stayed braced on the wall, and her face pressed flat as she gasped in disbelief.
“Oh! Your Grace! No—Ohhh~” She cried out, voice cracking with pleasure as she felt herself suspended in midair, her rear half completely lifted off. Her cunt stretched wide around his invading cock. Her legs dangled helplessly, and the helplessness only made it hotter.
Robert smirked, watching her squirm. He loved the feeling, almost her entire body weight squeezing down on his cock, her slick walls clinging like bark to a tree trunk; a very solid, girthy trunk. He started to move her, literally moved her—rocking her back and forth on his cock like she was a willing sheath. His arms never shook, and his hips never faltered, pounding into her even as he pulled her back to meet each thrust.
“Angh! Angh! Aaaanghhhh!”
Her whole body bent at a perfect angle, almost a 90-degree arch. Her toes scraped the air, dangling, her hands flat on the wall trembling as they held her from fully falling forward. Every slam of his hips into her tight, dripping core made her yelp, gasp, and mewl. The sensation of being helplessly fucked, strung up on his cock like a plaything, drove her into delirium.
She couldn’t fight it. Her mind spiraled into that deep, carnal haze. His cock, her only anchor. Pleasure swallowed her whole.
“Oh! Yes yes! Fuck! Y-Your G–Grace…! Fuck me!” She screamed, voice cracking, desperate and drenched. There was fear—of falling, but it only made the thrill more exquisite. She wanted to be had. She craved to be battered.
At some point, Missandei's legs started to swing with wild abandon. Her dangling limbs slapped against Robert’s shins with each brutal thrust. The room was filled with the obscene symphony of flesh; squelching, clapping, wet slaps, and hoarse, guttural grunts.
Standing tall, Robert gripped her waist harder and pumped into her faster, as if possessed. He’d draw back until only his tip kissed her swollen, glistening petals, then slam into the hilt, his balls slapping into her trembling underthighs. Again. And again. His cock dove deep into her sopping wet sheath, drilling into her molten heat with feral purpose. He loved that new position and knew the other three would too.
“Aahhhh! Ahhh! Har—der!” Missandei’s scream broke into fragments of raw bliss.
Her eyes rolled, jaw slack, voice hoarse from howling. Her pussy clenched violently, fluttering around his cock with each thrust, a soaked hole gushing from the inside out. Nectar flowed freely down her thighs, glistening in the candlelight as each impact shook another hot spill from her gushing cunt, dripping steadily onto the stone floor beneath them.
Robert’s pace turned downright animalistic. His breath was ragged, grunts ripping from his chest like a beast. Then, with a final snarl, he surged forward and slammed her entire body flat against the wall.
Her feet kicked in the air, still lifted off the floor entirely as his cock stayed buried to the root while he pressed hard behind her. Her body hung limp on his shaft, like a helpless puppet impaled on a thick, pulsing rod. The angle shoved his relentless cock deeper than ever before, hitting places that made her jerk and twitch.
Missandei's fingers curled wildly on the wall, clawing in desperation, her legs flailing in the air, searching for ground—something to anchor her against the overwhelming sensation flooding her mind. But there was no relief. Only the brutal, all-consuming fullness of his cock, pinning her to the wall and splitting her apart.
Right there, right then—he exploded inside her.
A hot flood of thick, sticky batter erupted from his cock, bursting into her quivering pussy in massive, messy spurts. It poured into her, so much she could feel it sloshing deep inside. Her pussy clenched around him like a trap, sucking every last drop greedily.
She had taken him so many times already, yet every time she ended up like that, deliriously fucked and barely awake, but it felt like an addiction now.
He held her up, still impaled, his cock pulsing and spilling while he pressed ravenous, claiming kisses up her nape, her neck, marking her with his tongue. There was no love, but he cherished them all the same.
"Aaaargh… That was… satisfying!" Robert groaned, feeling the last of the drops emptying inside Missandei. "It'll be a good sleep tonight."
"Um-hmm… I-It will be… Your Grace." Missandei panted into the wall, feeling the cold stones against her sweating body.
"But first comes the bath." Robert declared and gently pulled back, lowering her down. But she couldn't feel her legs, so just as she was falling, he grabbed her and lifted her in a princess carry. "Don't worry, I'll fill up the tub myself."
Robert walked over to the bed and laid her down on the soft bedding. She was a total, sweating mess with a nasty, sticky froth between her legs. Even a blind man would say she was freshly fucked to the moon by the mere sound of her breath.
"Now, where's that damn bucket?"
Robert left Missandei on the bed and looked for the massive bucket that could fill his bathing tub with just two servings of hot water. It was massive and only he could lift it when full.
Listening to the King rummage, Missandei stayed on the bed, staring at the fresh ceiling of the new roof.
In moments like those, she felt somewhat emotional. Not due to regrets, but it was just her state of vulnerability and weakness. She felt safe with Robert, but somewhere in her heart, she often thought of her first liberator.
I wish things had gone differently for you, Daenerys.
SPLASH!
And then, she heard the King return with the massive bucket full of water. Next thing she knew she was once again lifted up and brought into the big tub of warm water. She sat with her back against the King's broad chest, feeling his warmth while his hands explored and massaged her slender, shapely body.
Having gotten so used to those hands, they felt like her safe zone.
Robert was no perfect man to her. But knowing him, he was one of those who'd go to any lengths to protect her. There was calm, peace, and satisfaction in that thought.
"Shall we continue the High Valyrian lessons, Your Grace?" she asked, relaxing her back into his chest while his palms massaged her mounds. His cock had returned to life under her bottom, but she knew he wouldn't take her again so soon.
"Absolutely! Where were we?"
####
"T-This is… I don't know how to… This is a lot, Your Grace."
“Seven hells, don’t brood like that, boy. Your father should’ve had the stones to ask me to name you true years ago. You were never a threat to Ned’s line—wasting you as a bastard was folly.” Robert patted Jon's shoulder. "You’ve a choice now—keep the Stark name, or start your own damned line. I’m giving you Harrenhal—well, part of it. You’ve no army, no coin to hold the whole castle or maintain it. One tower’s yours, with say over the rest and rights to the land around it. The rest of the castle remains Crown property.”
Jon Snow felt overwhelmed as he stood in front of the immense castle. It didn't look as much of a ruin anymore. The rotten, fallen rubble had been cleaned out, and construction was ongoing. But one of the towers had been fully restored and stood out amongst the rest.
Thud!
Jon fell to one knee and swore in the name of the King. "I am honored, Your Grace."
"Hah! Sure you are. I was your age when I became the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. It’s a cursed hard thing, boy—don’t let the silks fool you. Be fair, aye, but keep your wits sharp. They’ll come crawling—lords, ladies, all with honeyed words and greedy hands. They’ll bleed you dry, your purse, and your prick. Keep your guard up and you’ll live. Marry a fine woman—Northern, Southern, I care not. But spare me the Dornish filth—gods, especially not that harlot Arianne.”
While Jon saw Robert as somewhat of a manwhore too, he made sure to memorize that name. If even the King didn't like a woman, it had to be serious.
“Get off your arse and make a proper plan for that fief of yours. Ride it end to end—see the land, the people, the muck and glory of it all. Count your coins, know what's short. If you're in need, come back to me. I'll lend you some gold—no bloody interest, mind you. Call it a favor for my old friend's whelp,” Robert said, a hint of emotion in his voice. “Now go—feel the wind on your face. I've got my own madness—paving the road it is."
"Understood, Your Grace." Jon stiffly saluted and rushed away.
Robert sighed and also went to resume his road-making hobby. He didn't know what sort of legacy he was going to leave behind, but he was satisfied. He didn't drink like a madman anymore. Though he did still fuck like a beast, but it was only limited to four women. He believed he had fully reclaimed his lost honor by fixing the Crown's debt.
"Feels like I'm at the end of a story," Robert muttered while riding Northward with Missandei sitting right in front of him, between his arms on the saddle. He had customized it so he could do that, it felt warm.
"Why?" Missandei asked.
"Why not? I crushed the bloody villain, didn’t I? Snatched the queen from the fire, made her my wife, and filled her belly with royal heirs. The realm’s quiet, with no swords clashing, no enemies at the gates—so what’s left for an old king? Building a damn road?"
Missandei chuckled and caressed his bearded chin with her delicate hand. "Is there truly nothing you wish for yourself, Your Grace? Nothing that brings you joy, or stirs your heart? Many kings speak of sons, or riches, or monuments that will outlive them."
"Ha! None, I say! I feel not a damn thing—no fire, no dream. The realm? It was a festering wound from the start. And now? Gods help us, it's in finer shape than under that Mad Targaryen bastard."
Missandei lost herself in thought then. What could be done to make a King with no desire happy? She only had Daenerys to compare, and Daenerys was extremely radical, desiring change on a mass scale. But Robert had already done whatever he wanted.
"What of the Ironborn?"
"Ha! I'll deal with them myself soon enough. No need for banners or bloody horns—just me, a warhammer, and that pisshole will easily turn to dust." Robert rumbled and squeezed Missandei tighter between his arms. "There's only road-making left."
"And learning High Valyrian," Missandei replied with a teasing smile that couldn't be seen. "In the tub, of course."
The King just laughed at that and kept on going.
####
Four months later.
Robert's project of building the Kingsroad came to a momentary halt once he reached halfway to the Twins. Having done nothing but build the road, with Missandei sometimes going back, sending Rhaea, or Myrcella over, he was merrily busy when he received the word that Margaery would soon give birth.
So, leaving everything, Robert returned to King's Landing. He stayed beside Margaery, her belly bloated, quite the size, clearly the baby wasn't on the smaller side. He took care of her as his duty commanded.
And then, three days later, she went into labor. Robert stood outside the door to the chamber where the midwives were hard at work. With him were many others, Ser Davos, Stannis, and Tyrion.
"I know this isn't the right time, but a missive came this morning from Winterfell, Your Grace." Tyrion took out a rolled parchment and extended it to the King.
Robert finally stopped listening to Margaery's loud screams coming from the door and grabbed the rolled parchment. He gave it a quick read and a frown formed on his face, but no alarm. He was at a point of strength where nothing surprised him.
"The Wildlings have launched an all-out invasion? Why weren't we informed beforehand?" Robert asked the men of the Small Council. "Castle Black's lost, and those savages are at the gates of the Last Hearth!"
Clack!
Just then, the door opened and an old midwife came out, carrying a baby wrapped in bundles of blankets.
"It's a boy, Your Grace."
"Another one? Hah! Gods be good!" Robert bellowed, sweeping the babe into his arms. "Margaery, you marvelous woman—two sons! Look at this little brute—fat as a piglet already!"
"Your Grace…"
"Hm?" Robert looked back at the old midwife. Normally, midwives show excitement and smiles when they deliver sons. Even more so for the King. But she remained frozen-faced.
“Please… you must see the Queen. The bleeding… it won’t cease. There’s a wound inside, one we cannot reach. S-She… hasn’t long.”
______________
Question: Save Margaery or not?
Choice 1 - Save her. (If saved, she loses the ability to give Robert more children.)
Choice 2 - Let her die. (Robert won't be marrying any other woman. He already has two sons, and he would rather raise them worthy of the throne.)
Comments
Jacob Weiss
1 and you can do 10 more ch idk what that one guy is on about. I’m sure we can use more dorne drama, the problems of the wildings. You got this author I believe in you!!!!
MrPlotThickens
Yep. They why ending this story.
Atta
the smut is not that exciting anymore, bro only f the same whores ,I guess that’s make sense because he is the whoremongor
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