MrPlotThickens
patreon
GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag 13 - Skewering A Squid
🕑 Added 2024-11-09 18:33:28 +0000 UTCAs it often does, plans don't go as one desires. Such was the situation for Tommen Baratheon. The boy was sent to the Wall to trick Jaime into joining the Night's Watch. Once Jaime had taken the oath, he was to return to King's Landing.
Sadly, the Ironborn invasion happened during that time. Winterfell was taken over, and that meant Tommen couldn't head south as planned. On top of that, his royal status, no matter how weak it was, made him a target.
So, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont decided to do the best he could to protect the young boy and sent him to Bear Island for its unlikeliness of being targeted by the Ironborn. Hence, the cold, remote place became a temporary home for Tommen.
Clank!
"Aaaaagh!"
Thud!
"How can you be a boy? You can't even lift a sword."
Tommen felt utterly humiliated, but he persisted in trying to beat the little girl before him. It had been just a few days since he met Lyanna Mormont, a girl four years younger than him, and yet so talented in fighting.
He hated her, but he knew he shouldn't throw tantrums like Joffrey. He tried to fight her every single day, trying to gain some ground. But she was so quick with her tongue and feet that each fight ended with him landing on his butt, humiliated.
"You truly never learned to swing a sword?" Lyanna Mormont asked with interest. "Mother says you're a bastard, but once, you were a prince. Don’t princes learn to fight? I read that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was among the finest swordsmen. Though I’d wager he wasn’t half the warrior King Robert is."
Tommen embarrassingly grunted and pulled himself up again. "No, a Prince doesn't need to swing swords. He has people to protect him."
"Truly? Then tell me, why did Prince Rhaegar die? Did he not have those sworn to guard him?"
"..."
Tommen was out of ideas at that point. Honestly, he wasn't against learning to fight. He just never got to since Cersei was so insane about teaching everything to Joffrey all the time. Still, whatever he knew, he thanked Robert for it.
"I will beat you soon." He declared.
Lyanna Mormont shrugged and walked away. "I'm going to steal apples from the farm. Why don't you come along?"
"That's wrong!"
"Ugh, so weak." Lyanna scowled. "Go find some dolls to play with then."
At that point, it was a matter of honor.
Tommen ended up joining her.
####
"Your Grace, this way!"
At the same time, another Mormont led King Robert through Wolfswood. Dacey Mormont, the six-foot-tall woman from Bear Island, was the definition of beauty with brawns—Strapped in her leather armor, her long black hair in one thick braid behind.
Robert walked beside her, leading a hundred men to raid Winterfell and save Bran as well as Rickon. They moved slowly, careful not to alert the enemy, all the while they waited for night to come.
"How many climbing ropes do you have?" Robert asked her. "We'll need to scale swiftly and deal with men on the wall."
"We have ten, Your Grace," Dacey answered. "I can climb fast."
Robert nodded and looked at the other men behind. "Find more quick climbers. Get 'em ready to scale the walls. We can't let them sound the alarm before we’ve got Bran and Rickon."
With that, Robert prepared to enter the castle. Beside him, Robb helped to command the men as most who came were Northerners. Furthermore, he couldn't be the first one to climb due to his weight. He could scale the walls, but not as fast as he needed to.
As time went by, the sky began to darken in a dusky hue. The birds returned to their nests, raising a ruckus before slowly going silent. By that time, the castle became visible in the distance. Majestic and colossal, a daunting task to scale.
But no one complained and prepared to make a move. They waited a little more for the sky to turn fully dark. By then, they expected the Ironborn to have relaxed and gone to eat or fuck whoever they could find.
"Scale it,” Robert commanded in a hushed voice.
Instantly, ten figures left the treeline, all draped in dark clothes to blend in the darkness. With ropes and metal hooks, they rushed to the castle's wall. After that, they waited for the patrolling guards to make one rotation before throwing up their hooks and starting the climb. At 80 feet high for the outer wall and 100 feet high for the inner wall—it was an extremely challenging task.
"They're up." Robert started moving finally. "Stay alert."
With his warhammer dangling on his back, Robert reached the wall and started scaling the same rope that Dacey used before. With the patrolling men already dealt with at the top, he led all his men up.
From there, they divided into two large groups of fifty and went in two directions. Scaling the inner wall was simply not possible, so they had to get access to the gates through actual fighting. But the trick was in being quick.
No matter what, the Ironborn didn't have enough men to completely turn the castle into a fortress. They were divided into too many areas to focus on.
"Kill them."
Robert charged forward towards the inner wall's entrance. Only three men guarded the gates, so they surrounded the men from all sides and killed them as quickly as possible. Although some shouts were made, the entire castle was already filled with many screams from all over. The sick Ironborn were committing heinous tortures.
"Kill any Ironborn you see without hesitation," Robert ordered and finally entered the inner castle.
From there, the slow bloodbath ensued. It wasn't that the Ironborn were less in numbers. They were simply unprepared for an ambush like that. Found eating, bathing, fucking, or sleeping, killing them was as easy as stepping on rats. With no discipline of an army, no centralized command, and Victarion already dead at Robert's hands, the castle was wild territory.
Robert knew the entire castle like the back of his hand and swept through every possible place Bran and Rickon could be. Every now and then they'd engage in easy skirmishes, killing the Ironborn.
As the night went on, Robb rejoined Robert after sweeping through his side of the castle. Eventually, that left very few places empty for Robert to search.
Bam!
Robert kicked yet another door open and raised his warhammer. At last, he saw a glimpse of his sons, but they were in mortal danger. He halted in the distance, glaring at the two figures holding daggers at Bran and Rickon's throats.
"Stand back, King Robert! If you want to save the—"
"If you kill them, I'll still kill you," Robert bellowed, his gaze never leaving Theon Greyjoy, who held the dagger at Bran's throat. "I'll make it slow, and it will last many fortnights. I know that rat, and you must be his sister. If you want to live, surrender. I'll let your father pay your ransom."
Theon Greyjoy and Asha Greyjoy looked like cornered cats in that dark room. Both their faces held fright at the sight of Robert's large frame and his blood-soaked warhammer. The brother and sister were waiting for more reinforcements and didn't expect the sudden attack.
They didn't consider Robb Stark to hold that much will and never calculated Robert Baratheon's drive to save the two boys. Why the King would place his life on the line for people not of his own blood confused them, but it didn't matter anymore. They had already lost.
"I considered you my brother, Theon! How could you betray us?!" Robb shouted at Theon, pain in his voice. "We drank and fought together—did that mean nothing to you?"
"I was your hostage!" Theon growled back.
Robert glared at Robb and placed one hand on his shoulder. He felt angered, even enraged that Robb was so foolish to not know when to stay quiet. All those emotional outbursts could have waited until after getting Bran and Rickon to safety.
Too emotional, too honorable, and too indecisive. Is this all that I taught him? Robert, or the soul inside, questions himself. I have failed as a father, as a Lord… Such a disgrace.
"Make up your damn minds!" Robert bellowed. "Live or die?"
Silence spread for a short moment. Robert, with all those behind him, waited for an answer. Bran and Rickon kept silent, fear in their eyes. Meanwhile, Theon and Asha looked at each other for a moment and nodded.
"L-Live," Asha declared and removed her dagger from the boy’s neck.
"Robb!" Rickon ran quickly and hugged Robb.
Clank!
Theon lowered his dagger and dropped it to the floor. At that, Dacey rushed in and picked up the crippled Bran in her arms. With that, the two boys were safe.
"Since only one of you gave me an answer," Robert coldly stated all of a sudden and stepped forward, gripping his warhammer tighter. Red-eyed, he glared at Theon the whole time, his face reminding him of all the Stark men who died in that castle. All the dead bodies he saw that night in many rooms. All the women he found in degrading conditions.
"Aye, a hostage indeed." Robert didn't even try to control his anger anymore. "But Ned treated you well, like a ward sent to him to foster. He fed you, he trained you, but… I am not Ned! I am King Robert Baratheon, and there will be justice—haaaa!"
BAM!
The warhammer swung so fast that Theon failed to react. Before he could even notice, it connected right in the middle of his chest, flinging him back in the air, and his back slammed onto the wall.
"For all the pointless deaths you've caused, no amount of ransom is enough!" Robert stepped closer to Theon, looking down at the boy on his knees. "North is cold, yet warm in welcome—you have overstayed that kindness—ha!"
Splash!
Robert hammered on Theon's back with such intensity that his lungs ruptured, the cracking sound of his ribs audible. He vomited blood from his mouth and lay flat on the floor.
"How many times!"
Bam!
Robert hammered once more, breaking his spine.
"Do I have to show you damn Ironborn your place!"
Bam!
This time his hip bone broke apart.
Bam!
Blood splattered everywhere, Theon's life slowly being taken away, one hammer strike at a time. Robert was a massive man too, and he had years of experience. Each of his strikes was powerful, yet precise enough to not finish him so soon.
"Stop!!" Asha Greyjoy roared just then and grabbed her dagger once again. She rammed it straight on Robert's massive back. But she failed to pierce through his armor much, only giving him a minor flesh wound.
Pa!
Robert slapped her backhandedly straight across the face. Lean and long-legged, Asha was thrown away.
"Know your place, squid!" Robert truly manifested his wicked self that night. "Your brother dies tonight!"
With that, Robert looked back at Theon's groaning, half-dead body. Finally, he raised his hammer high, aiming for the head this time.
Splash!
There was no hope of survival. As soon as the hammer connected, the skull caved in and deformed, split apart, shattering into a bloody mess.
"Lock her in the dungeon!" Robert passed the order while looking at Asha. "Kill every squid left in the castle. Leave no bastard alive—she’ll be enough."
"Your Grace, you must treat your wound." Robb stepped closer to him, seeing the dagger was still stuck in his back.
Robert didn't care, however. "The fight's nowhere near done. Send our quickest runner to the camp beyond the White Knife. Tell them to storm Castle Cerwyn and seize it."
Robb passed the same orders to his men and stayed there with Robert. He didn't like how Theon was killed, but if the King saw that as justice, then it was justice.
"Did they hurt you?" Robert focused back on Bran and Rickon.
"They didn't, Your Grace," Bran answered. "They only starved us."
Starving kids in their own home? Robert was emotional about the matter. It wasn't a big deal, but it did make him angry. Iron Islands has no place in the Seven Kingdoms!
"Have them fed,” he ordered Robb.
I still can't feel calm.
Perhaps an innate natural intuition, or expecting the obvious. Robert still didn't believe that the Ironborn matter was over.
He felt an itch in his palms. An itch to battle and smash a few more heads.
Only one way to find answers.
He glanced at Asha Greyjoy being taken away.
####
Morning came, and the Stark sigil once again fluttered above the castle towers. Robb took command officially and started to calculate the damage.
Robert woke up early, fresh as any other day, not an ounce of fatigue, or a wound on his body. Rather, he felt stronger somehow, just as he did after each battle. It was supernatural, but he didn't dwell on it.
Instead, he changed into a comfortable tunic and breeches, put on a warm fur cloak, and made his way down into the dungeons. Since the castle was built on a natural hot spring, the cellars were particularly warm, and unfortunately, damp as well. The air was warm and moist, making it nothing short of hell for the captives as humidity prevented the body from cooling down.
Robert passed the guards and walked downstairs into the main holding area. There, inside one of the locked stone-walled cells, Asha was kept chained by her wrist from each side wall, keeping her from bringing her arms together.
"Hah, here to savor the plunder?" Asha mockingly stared at Robert, her whole body drenched in humidity. Her loose tunic and tight pants stuck to her body like a second skin. Her face dripped with droplets, and her black hair was cut short.
Thin-faced, sharp nose, her dark eyes revealed her hatred.
Pa!
Robert slapped her on the face, but not too hard. "Playing the victim, are you, after your men did the murdering and raping of hundreds? The Ironborn have no right to cry injustice—you lot still trade in slaves and call yourselves warriors. Savages, the whole lot of you."
Asha smirked, lifting her knee with deliberate ease until her foot pressed against Robert's loins. "Go on then, get it over with. Isn’t that your way, King Robert? The whoremonger King. All you want is my tight cunt, isn't that right?"
Robert frowned, and gripped her throat, raising her until she stood on her toes. He was like a behemoth before her slender, long-legged figure. "You think whoring your cunt will save you?"
"It just might," Asha grinned widely, eyes half open in tiredness. "What do you say? Willing, young, tight Asha Greyjoy, the daughter of the most hated Balon—ripe for the taking for the King."
Robert dismissively sneered and stepped back. Although he manifested the crass Robert for that interrogation, he still tried to stay under control. "You sound more desperate to be fucked than to live."
Asha continued to play her game and spread her legs wide, her tight breeches so soaking wet that the shape of her pussy became visible. The plump, young folds, high and low, with that entrance in the middle.
Does she think winning me is this easy? Robert felt ashamed of his infamous reputation.
"Tell me, what's your father planning?" he demanded, his tone edged with impatience. "Moat Cailin, Winterfell, Castle Cerwyn—what next? There's no bloody treasure in the North for you."
"Ummm…" Asha let out a planned moan, the smirk constant. "Fuck me and I might tell."
Robert frowned. At that point, he genuinely felt confused about what she was plotting. What was there to gain from being fucked by her captor? Did she expect him to fall in love with her cunt and spare her?
"What are you, a whore?"
"For a King, isn’t every woman just another prize?" Asha shot back with a wry smile. "I’ve heard the tales of the highborn ladies you’ve claimed. Tell me, how many of them came willingly?"
Clank!
Robert impatiently gripped her neck again and raised her higher in the air, this time lifting her off her feet. Both her wrists were spread wide as the chains coming from the walls kept her in that state—standing, dangling in the middle of the room.
"Why? Struck a nerve?" She struggled but kept that proud, sly look on her face.
Robert was obviously already hard. It wasn't much of a challenge to make him gain an erection anyway. As long as any woman asked for him to slide into her cunt, he'd be hard by default. But, that didn't mean he was insane like in the past. Although his appetite was high, his control had also increased.
He sized Asha up from head to toe. Her thin face was proof of her physically demanding life. Her lean body and those long legs barely reached half of his shoulder breadth. Her height, although tall, wasn't much before him.
She overestimates herself if she thinks she can win against my size. Robert pondered and looked down at her slender waist and legs that lacked the plumpness that the likes of Catelyn or Cersei had. In true ways, she bore a figure similar to Sansa or Myrcella.
"You think you can win this battle?" He asked.
"Oh, I know I will." Asha raised her chin with pride.
Robert took a step closer and looked down at her, her arms still restricted. He despised that challenging look in her gaze, but it did indeed light a fire in him, or rather Robert Baratheon.
He slid his other meaty hand under the waistband of her breeches and stretched with his fat fingers between her thighs. He felt a faint bush brush against his palm, and then the wetness of her core at the tip of his fingers.
"For each moan—you’ll have to answer one question." Robert decided to win in her own game. "If I finish before you, I'll let you walk free—I swear in the name of the Seven."
"Hehe, I accept." She grinned as if that was her intention from the start. "Release my han—"
She suddenly bit her lower lip as Robert slid his thick middle finger between her petals right then, slipping in easily.
"That wasn't in the deal," he reminded and dug his digit as deep as he could, feeling her tightness truly erotic. But it only boosted his confidence as there was no way she'd be able to control herself once he slid in there with his royal tool.
Robert suddenly let go of her neck and pulled his hand out. With his big wide palms, it took little effort for him to rip apart her clothes, one by one. Each and every piece of thread, down to her smallclothes.
In the end, she stood there naked, wearing only her leather boots. Her hands were still chained to the walls. The damp, hot air caused beads of perspiration to roll down the tips of her swells.
Robert eyed her naked form, toned but slender, smooth in some places, but she had clearly gone through battles with those small thin scars. His fingers glided down her neck, appreciating the curve of her small shoulders, and finally grabbing hold of her perking breast.
They both locked eyes and Robert could see the fearless front she was putting up. But that didn't cover up the shiver he felt under his palm when he squeezed her tender flesh. He pinched her hardening peak, twisting it like a soft toy. His other hand slid down her trembling, toned belly, tasting the curve of her hips and upper thighs, slowly sliding in between her legs.
Asha clenched her eyes shut, feeling the sudden, rough brush against her bundle of nerves. The tip of his fingers invaded her scorching portal, sliding down between her petals, and finally entering her. She bit her lips shut, forcing her mind to ignore the insistent pokes and prods, turning into muffled squelches as her body reacted on its own.
Robert kept at it, his fingers going deeper and deeper as he felt the juices of her loins coming out to aid her pleasure. Slippery and soft, the feeling made his loins envy his hands.
Asha finally opened her eyes, almost feeling accustomed to the constant rhythm. "H-Heh… is that all, whoremonger King? I Do–don't see what tho–those green landers wenches see in you!”
Robert, without answering, suddenly added another hefty finger to her cunt. His thumb also pressed against her swollen nub, and the hand on her breast clenched harder.
Asha quickly shut her mouth, biting her tongue to stifle the moan that almost escaped. Her pussy felt stretched, suckling on his fingers on its own. She could feel the yearning heat growing within.
Robert could see she was forcing herself not to moan, so he stepped closer to her smaller frame, looming over her like a giant. The hand on her soft breast moved to sink his fingers into her dark hair, pulling her head up to look at him. He then kissed her, sliding his tongue between her lips to free her clenched teeth. He suckled on her tongue, licking the air out of her young mouth.
He still didn’t hear a sound from her flushed lips, but he could taste the breathless pants struggling to gulp down their saliva. At this point he didn’t only want to hear them, he coveted them. His cock twitched at the sight of her reddened face, that tough facade a challenge to his primal greed.
Aye, there was more Baratheon in that moment than a Stark.
His length already stood like an iron pole, forcing him to answer. He pulled away from the kiss, took his hand out of her sopping cunt, and tugged on his own breeches, releasing his confined length free.
Without a second thought, he grabbed her by her ripe ass and lifted her.
The chains clattered and clanged as he carried her up to his height, face to face. Since Asha’s arms were still caught, spread wide, she couldn’t hold on to anything. Her knees instinctively tightened on each side of his waist, letting her exposed pussy stick close to his sizable, royal cock.
Robert’s fingers sunk into the soft flesh of her ass, making her hips move and her pussy grind over his length. The bumps and grooves of his cock titillated her need, drawing even more liquid aid from her loins.
He groaned, “Ghh… don't blame me if I ruin such a tight cunt. No cock would satisfy you after this… You’ll be begging for me to come back, crawling like a cat in heat.”
“Hah! I’ve had my fair share. Your little critter doesn’t scare me,” she quipped.
“Says an ignorant squid, in front of a beast!” Robert suddenly pulled her down by the waist, his magnificent crown, instantly finding its path between her lower lips.
His swollen cockhead speared into her, spreading her like never before, and stretched her Ironborn pussy lips wide. The sudden squelch and grunt reverberated right into her very soul, straining her delicate gates in one violent strike.
Asha’s eyes widened as she stared empty-eyed at the dark ceiling. Her back stiffened straight, and her lips opened wide with a long, sultry, soundless exhale. The air in her lungs came out, but the twitching knots in her belly never stopped.
“Hah! The squid seems speechless…” Robert grinned. He took pleasure from the look on her face, but even more so from the tight pussy around his cockhead.
He slowly slid in. Her insides struggled to accommodate his size, gripping and releasing her muscles in a bid to push him out. However, it only felt like caressing massages on his length. Her wet walls stroked his length with wet friction, thoroughly pleasuring him.
Asha could feel it creep up into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch. It widened her with precision from her petals to her inner walls, torturously unhurried. There, his cock stopped inside her, standing there like solid steel as her walls danced around him, throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
To see her reaction, he looked at her sweating face, panting hard. She didn't look at him anymore, averting her eyes completely. “I’m just half in, but the squid is faltering…”
Asha felt so full, her entire body throbbed and stretched so much. When she heard his words, the fire within her ignited once more. She pursed her lips, wanting to deny it once again.
“I—Ahhhh!”
The moment she opened her mouth, Robert pushed inside some more. His fat cock head smashed against the entrance of her womb, causing her to break out in a loud moan.
"There we have it! Tell me, did your father plan all this?"
"N-Noooh! No, it was Theon… it was his plan… Only-eh… Stony Shore was father's demand…"
Robert frowned and pulled back a little before ramming in once again. He shoved all of his cock inside, colliding against her deepest wall. He could feel her legs tighten around him, so he hugged her waist and moved her body with his hands.
He moved her slight body up with ease and slammed her down on his flesh sword, over and over. His large form toyed with her lesser frame as his cock drilled up into her with ravenous hunger. Every long, and stretching slide of his length was audible, like two wet hands being rubbed furiously.
Her smaller breasts bounced with every jolt, sweat dripping from her body. Her moans continued, now unrestrained like a siren of the sea.
"What's your father's plan? What next?"
"N-Nothing… ah, ummm… fuck! There is no plan! I didn't hear anything!"
Robert gritted his teeth and fucked her harder. He gripped her ass once again and pulled her onto his cock with each thrust. Her pussy fitted around him like a wet glove, squelching and sputtering juices as he plowed. Her pussy lips sucked on his cockhead for dear life, pouting with a stretch.
“Ah! Ah! Aaaah!” she screamed as her belly tightened. The stifling sensation erupted in her loins, plunging her into ecstasy.
Asha’s honey sweet nectar finally flowed, bursting out when Robert pulled half his length out. Dribbling down his unrelenting, thrusting cock, she came all over Robert's need, some even dripping down to the floor.
She had already lost there, but Robert continued to fuck her, “So the young squid has drowned? Did you like it? Do you want more of… This! Beast! Fucking! You!”
He slammed his royal shaft in with every word, letting her release a splash with every heavy, powerful thrust.
"Yes, yes, yesss~" Asha became a lost cause. Lost in lust and heat, full and fucked to delirium by his cock.
Seeing her surrender, Robert finally slowed down a bit and pulled his cock out. He unlocked her wrists, freeing her from the restraints. Letting her exhausted body drop to the floor. However his manhood was still standing, still not satisfied yet.
One thing to note about Robert Baratheon was that once the beast woke up, there was no way of restraining it before the ‘end’.
He pulled her up from the floor by her arm and pushed her to face a wall. Standing behind her, he smeared his cockhead all over her sensitive, swollen, freshly fucked pussy lips.
“I still have some questions…”
“Ummm…” Asha moaned without care, sticking her ass out for him as her hands supported her leaning body against the wall.
“Heh!” Robert almost wanted to laugh at her eager willingness now.
He gripped her short hair with his fingers spread through and pulled her face back. He kissed her from the side while his throbbing cock rammed into her soaked cunt. His thighs slapped against her tight, shapely round ass, over and over. His straining cock widened her pussy lips again and again to ruin, going in and out with no mercy.
His other hand crawled in front of her body and grabbed her tight, small breasts for a hard squeeze and finally slid down to her belly, searching for her pussy. He teased her wet clitoris, letting it slip and slide around his fingers.
"Did you ally with the Vale or the Lannisters?" Robert interrogated.
"Maybe… I-ah… don't knooooowh!"
Asha couldn’t take it anymore, so full and stretched her muscles tightened until her body trembled. She came again with an explosive frenzy, utterly squirting her juices out. Her nectar splashed down to the floor, staining her legs and leather boots.
Robert felt the grip around his cock, so taut and heavenly it pushed him to the edge.
“Grk..” He grunted and quickly pulled out, pulling Asha by the shoulder to make her fall to her knees and face him.
With a few quick strokes on his length, he delivered his royal seeds all over her blushing red face and small tits, painting her white everywhere. From her dark, messy hair to her nose, every last bit sticky, stringy, and slimy, stuck to her body.
Asha didn’t say a word in protest, gleefully opening her mouth to take in his cream. She licked her stained lips, the corner of her mouth curling up. Her ass wiggling like a pet getting a reward.
She’s enjoying this?
Robert still felt some tingles in his cock from the sight of her, and in the heat of that moment, let that animalistic instinct slip over.
He stepped forward and rammed his spent cock into her mouth. He gave a few long fucking plunges to her throat until her back was pressed against the wall behind her. He kept his twitching cock in her mouth until it completely calmed down, throbbing alongside the deepest edge of her throat.
A while later, he pulled out slowly, letting her suckle the last bit of batter around his cock, the sticky, long strands as if the last bit of flavor for her to taste. She even cleaned him off with her tongue.
"Yet again, the Ironborn loses." Robert scoffed at her freshly fucked and spent form on the knees. "I have no darn clue where your confidence comes from despite losing each time. It's better you become a whore than hold grand ambitions."
With that, Robert retreated and left the cell. He wasn't sure if Asha was being truthful with him, so he didn't bother to tie her up again since he planned on 'interrogating' her some more.
If that was the only language she understood, he was a master of it.
####
Castle Cerwyn fell to Ser Barristan’s led army. The Northern forces killed every single Ironborn and continued to march forward. By the fourth day, they neared Winterfell.
It was a joyous occasion for the nobles and the knights. And thanks to the King's grace, a small feast was held for the lords at Winterfell.
Inside the Great Hall, Robert sat in the middle of the long table that oversaw the rest of the perpendicular tables where men ate, drank, and bantered. To his right was Robb Stark, and to his left was Catelyn Stark. His cup was full of fine wine, and on his plate were the bones of his finished meal.
"I’ll return to King’s Landing in two days. The realm is a mere snap away from falling into chaos, bastards…eh…" His words slurred a little, having had a little too much to drink that night. "From the moment I woke up, I've done nothing but fight for peace… but those fuckers don't care about peace. They want to shove their whore daughters on my lap for power."
"Your Grace, you're drunk," Catelyn softly spoke, trying to keep the King from getting too loud.
"I know… I needed this. Gods, what sin am I paying for? Lost Cat… lost my best friend… and that damnable Cersei, she’s ruined me," Robert muttered, hardly thinking. His heart spilled over, he snarled, "Seven hells, what am I now? Just a ruin."
"Your Grace," Catelyn said softly, placing her pale, slender hand over Robert’s clenched fist on the table. "You’ve been a blessing to my family. Without your strength, I dread to think how much darker our days might have become. You saved my sons… you’ve given House Stark a debt we cannot hope to repay."
My own sons, Cat. My own bloody sons. Robert glanced at Robb, who was also drunk and watching the few lords dancing with some ladies in front of the table. He's not fit to rule. Not in these ruthless times. Too soft… too honorable.
He despised himself in his heart. He had failed as a father and an uncle. He failed to tell Jon about his true heritage. He failed to teach Robb how to be an efficient lord. He failed to protect Bran from Jaime.
"Your Grace!"
Robert heard Ser Barristan's loud voice, his armor clanking with his rushed steps. He slammed his hand on the table, his breath heavy.
"Your Grace, Moat Cailin has fallen again! All our men butchered—twenty thousand Ironborn soldiers have blocked our path back!"
“I’m the one who drank, and you’re the one drunk? Hah! A miracle if the Ironborn could scrape up five thousand men, let alone twenty! Victarion’s lot was the main force,” Robert slurred, waving his cup. “Twenty thousand? Tell me, what damned house has that many swords to muster…”
Midway, Robert stopped speaking, his eyes clearing up. He stared back at Ser Barristan. "Do these 'Ironborn' have blonde hair?"
"They do, and their armors are all gravely deformed. But they carry the sigil of House Greyjoy," Ser Barristan answered. "Your Grace, the Lions have made their move. They plan to trap you in the North."
"For what? Claim the throne? Stannis is still at the Red Keep!"
"Your Grace, I doubt they care for the throne now—they seek you," Ser Barristan said, his hand falling instinctively to the hilt of his sword. "We must ride for White Harbor and press on to King's Landing without delay."
Bam!
Robert slammed his fist on the table and rose with a scowl. “Leave the North unguarded? Not a chance. I’ll stay right here until every threat to Winterfell is buried and gone. Tywin, Balon, or that whore Lysa herself—I’ll cave their chests in as I did Rhaegar's.”
Creak!
Finally, Robert left the Great Hall. He didn't need anyone to guide him to his room, nor did he desire any company. The wine, the sense of loss in that ancient castle, and the new danger—they all weighed heavily on his mind. Enough to keep him awake the whole night.
Thud!
He slammed the door shut and dragged his body towards the warm bed. On his way, he threw the fur cloak off his shoulder, then lazily stepped out of his boots. The boon of Winterfell was that the castle was warm inside, especially in the bedchambers.
Krrr!
The bed creaked as he rested his body on the bed. He lay flat and straight, the heels of his feet still dangling from the lower edge due to his great height. So drunk, yet he couldn't shut his eyes. They felt dry, yet he felt no fatigue.
Why this second life? For what? I see no peace on this path.
He felt no sense of closeness towards Stannis, nor did he have any other blood family left. While the ones he did feel close to, didn't share his blood. A Stark who longed to be close to Winterfell yet was forced to live as a Baratheon.
Knock! Knock!
"Who is it? Your king's resting!" Robert growled at the door, reckoning it was some servant. He really was in a bad mood.
Knock! Knock!
"It's Catelyn, Your Grace. May I have a word with you?"
"Cat?!"
Comments
Katana01
Looking foward to more
Robert Brown
Good stuff!!!... keep it coming.
