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GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag 10 - The Fallout & The Crisis
🕑 Added 2024-10-04 14:39:17 +0000 UTCAh, Dorne is lost.
Seeing Daenerys' portrait on the wall was a clear message to him. Despite all the time they had, they didn't remove it. They wanted to tell him that they had other options. And it made his Baratheon blood boil. How could anyone support the Targaryens after their decades of terrorizing, unstable, incestuous reign?"
But at the same time, the utter, disgraceful mess that was Robert's years as the King left him with no easy corners to turn to. There was no difference between a Targaryen and a Baratheon at that point.
"Your Grace?"
"Go on." Robert maintained his kingly persona and continued to follow Oberyn into the large hall inside the Tower of the Sun. It was huge, with large stained glass walls all around the edges from where sunlight illuminated the hall. The floor was carpeted, the curtains were silken, and the ceiling was adorned with carvings.
At the end of the hall was a high seat that was less than a throne but more than a mere chair. Nobody was sitting on it, as Doran Martell stood with the help of a cane, beside him was a woman in her twenties—olive-skinned, buxom and beautiful, with large dark eyes and long, thick, black hair. But she was quite short, her head barely as high as Robert's chest.
She has the same eyes. Robert felt disgusted towards her like an instinct. She had the same look that Cersei often had. The look of 'I am cunning and all else are beneath me'. It didn't help that he knew about Arianne's adventurous nature.
"Welcome to Dorne, Your Grace. Forgive me, my gout has me confined within these walls, or I would have come to welcome you at the port." Doran Martell spread his free arm wide and bowed his head a little. "I trust the journey was not too unkind?"
"It was alright," Robert replied and looked around the large hall. He noticed there were a few more women, all in their twenties. Most of them bore a striking resemblance to Oberyn Martell. "The Mountain is yours."
"A gift that I accept," Doran replied. "The journey must have been long and wearisome, Your Grace. Perhaps you would care to rest for a while? I have arranged a feast in your honor, where we can speak further."
He doesn't seem very keen on welcoming. What is he doing? What have they done?
"A good bath and a goblet of wine will do well to rid the weariness. I’ll retire to rest, Prince Doran," Robert responded. "Lead the way."
"My daughter will. Ah, this is Arianne Martell, my eldest daughter." Doran introduced her as if the entire realm hadn't already heard her infamous name. "She will see to all your needs during your stay, Your Grace. In her hands, you shall find both welcome and watchfulness, for that is the way of Dorne."
What are you planning, Doran? Robert's suspicion grew to the peak in an instant. Was Doran planning on shoving his daughter to him?
"Very well." Robert chose to continue acting like the 'old' Robert. Carefree, lecherous, a drunkard, and a whoremonger. "I'm no man to refuse a beautiful lady's company. I'll be in your care, Princess Arianne."
"It's my pleasure, Your Grace." Arianne huskily answered. Her words and face didn't match. Her words came out as if a shy maiden was talking, but her expressions were of a seasoned seductress. "Please follow me."
Robert did follow her. The way she walked, twisting her ripe, wide hips in front of him told him everything. She was dressed revealingly too, her bodice started with a very wide neck and small sleeves. Her entire belly to the waist was naked, followed by a long, fluttering skirt of many colors. There was a lot of gold jewelry on her wrist, neck, and even hair. The culture of Dorne was indeed too different.
He followed the olive-skinned Princess through the turns and twists in the castle and soon arrived at a large, luxurious room. There were servants already waiting there, a large bath prepared for him beforehand.
"I will come back to guide you to the feast, Your Grace. Please have rest until then." Arianne stopped near the bathtub. "The servants will help you bathe and dress… Or if Your Grace wishes, I can—"
"No need," Robert interrupted her. "I'll be fine alone. Take the servants with you."
"But, Your Grace…"
"That's how I live in the Red Keep," Robert added, and waved at the women maids that were likely selected with care since each of them had heavy sets of assets and faces that weren’t half bad either. All of them looked nervous. "I'll see you at the feast."
Arianne seemed to feel the King's annoyance and commanded everyone to leave. Then finally, she retreated. "They will stand outside, Your Grace. Make use of them as you see fit."
Robert merely nodded and watched her shut the door. Finally, he decided to take a relaxing breath and walked closer to the tub of water. He knelt beside it, looked into it sternly, and tried to smell it. Dorne was famous for its poisons, and there were plenty of masters of poison.
He had no doubt that behind everything, the Martells had hidden intentions.
Let's be careful here.
####
Hours passed, and very soon a knock came at Robert's door. He had dressed up already, so he opened it and found Ser Barristan waiting there. It was a relief that Arianne wasn't there. The woman was hard to read since there was nothing beyond lust and desire on her face at all times.
"Let's go," Robert coldly said and walked out. "Did you find out anything?"
"They are not sincere," Ser Barristan answered with troubled expressions. "Your Grace, staying here is dangerous. You should retreat to the ship."
"And give them an excuse to justify their treachery? I’ll stay here for the night, Barristan, but keep your men sharp and ready for anything. Watch what you eat and drink; who knows what poison they might use?" Robert warned him. "Bring the warhammer to my chamber after the feast."
Soon, they arrived at a large hall where music, chatter, and wine were in abundance. The spicy scent of food and various fragrances permeated the air. Men and women of Dorne were packed into the hall, some already in the midst of indecent fondlings.
As soon as Robert entered, the hall fell silent. But once the interested guests greeted him, the controlled chaos resumed.
"Your Grace." Doran Martell approached him with the help of Arianne holding his arm. "Please, have a seat with me at the table."
Robert followed him and sat down at the long table. From there, they could look at the entire hall with all the busy men and women. Oberyn Martell was particularly visible, touching his paramour in plenty of ways. It couldn't even be called a dance at that point.
“Surely, merely escorting Gregor Clegane to this place is a task beneath the dignity of a King,” Doran remarked with a steady gaze. “What truly brings you here, I wonder?”
Robert calmly kept looking at the people. He felt sandwiched, as on his right was Doran, and on his left was Arianne Martell, her chair a bit close. Enough that he could thoroughly smell the pleasant scents she carried in her hair.
Let's be Robert.
"Can't a king roam around the realm he rules now?" he grumbled, annoyance lacing his voice. "I was in the North months back, and now here I am in the South—two extremes of my realm."
My realm, he said. A hint that the likes of Doran weren't going to miss.
"Your Grace, have some wine." Arianne poured him a cup of wine and passed it on.
Robert handed the cup back to her, his fingers already reaching for another. "Ah, you're a fine companion, Princess," he said, pouring himself some of the wine with a grin. "Let’s raise our cups, and drink to your name. May the gods keep you this lovely forever."
He raised his self-served cup and clanked it with Arianne's before sipping just a little bit. He then focused back on Doran to his right.
"At last, the realm’s healing, but damn it all, it took Ned’s death and that serpent Cersei's treachery to snap me out of it." Robert steered the discussion. "I suppose, there is no need for war anymore. All kingdoms are united for common prosperity. Isn't that right, Prince Doran?"
"Common prosperity? Does that include Dorne?" Doran asked.
"Dorne is, and forever will be one of the seven kingdoms. Do you have different ideas?" Robert asked him back and stared at Doran's face. "Let the past die, Doran. We're all too old to be holding grudges."
"Grudges?" Doran’s fist tightened against the table, his calm mask slipping, just for a moment. His voice cut through the air, sharper. "Grudges? Elia was not a slight to be forgotten, Your Grace. It was not only her life taken from Dorne. It was my house's future—our bloodline, our pride. That loss still bleeds."
This bastard! He's still holding on to the past. He's obsessed with the Targaryens.
"What do you want? I gave you the Mountain, and now you want Tywin’s head too? If that’s your desire, you’ll have to fetch it yourself." He glared, not hiding his frustration. He’d already pushed Tywin too far and knew another insult could break the realm. "Elia’s husband took my betrothed, raped her, and the Mad King slaughtered anyone he pleased—smallfolk or lord. The rebellion wasn’t some game, Doran. It was justice, plain and simple!"
"Killing my sister and her children was justice?"
"No, it wasn't." Robert agreed there. "Tywin killed them before I gave a damn order. If I hadn't nodded to his 'contribution,' he'd have burned King's Landing to the ground just to save his hide!"
Gods be damned! It's impossible to get through him. Robert drank some more wine in annoyance.
"At least the Targaryens tried to make amends with Dorne. And what have you done, Your Grace? Drink yourself blind? Bed every whore in sight? Squander gold? The Crown’s drowning in debt, isn’t it?" Doran dropped all pretenses of respect. "You want Dorne on your side? Then give me back what was stolen. Marry my daughter and father her children."
I knew it. Robert saw that coming from a kingdom away. No, I must control this rage.
"Her?" Robert glanced at buxom Arianne. She was closer to his age than Margaery, and in the ideal case, a perfect wife. But he knew far too much about her whoring to even consider her a candidate. She was no different from Cersei and would fuck a random man just to spite him if he ever angered her. "She's a maiden?"
Doran clenched his teeth. That was the reason why he despised his daughter's actions. Every respectable lord hopes to receive a maiden as his wife. Why would a King accept anything less? But there was no backing down this time.
"A widower demands a maiden? Arianne is no maiden, but she will be your obedient wife."
Robert chuckled and slammed the goblet on the table. He then rose to his feet, not very keen on talking anymore. Besides, he felt something annoying between his loins. He wasn't sure, but he was almost certain.
She put aphrodisiacs in the wine? But she's drinking the same thing.
"House Tyrell seems to think otherwise, Prince Doran. As I stand here, they have brought their precious rose, Margaery Tyrell, for me to wed, bed, and fill her belly with heirs." Robert almost chuckled at that part. He was the most eligible bachelor in the realm at the moment. Forget daughters, Lords would hand over their noble wives if he were to ask. Everyone desired free access to the King and the Red Keep. "I fear the wine didn't suit me. Good night."
Indeed, the wine had made his balls itch like they were going to explode.
Let's leave this damn place in the morning.
It was on nights like those that he longed for Catelyn. Dealing with aphrodisiac would have been a breeze if he had his prized wife beside him that night.
####
If only Robert knew that Catelyn was also remembering his name at that moment. Deep in the North, close to Winterfell, in a massive tent filled with Robb, Arya, and a few lords of the North who had come for House Stark's aid.
In silence, she watched her son make his speech. In silence, she pondered over Robert's offer to marry him. To have the King's backing for the North—for House Stark.
"My lords, this treachery cannot stand. The Ironborn have taken refuge within Winterfell's walls, and that traitor, Theon Greyjoy, leads their wicked host. This isn’t merely a battle; it is a matter of honor for the North! They have invaded our lands, and such audacity shall not go unpunished. Mark my words, none of them will return alive from this folly."
Catelyn felt pained hearing his words. Bran and Rickon were still in Winterfell. Instead of doing everything to protect his brothers, Robb was quick to raise his sword. That made her remember Robert's words about too much honor being counterintuitive.
"My lords, I ask this as Lord Stark! March with me in saving this land's honor! March with me in the name of the Old Gods!"
Catelyn wept at that. Her words had fallen on deaf ears. Robb was too keen on proving himself as the new Lord Stark. So much so that he failed to even think about the consequences of rushing into a battle.
This can't continue. I must send word to Robert. He will… He will surely help us… For Ned.
####
Robert couldn't sleep that night. Hours passed, and sweat formed over his skin, drenching his clothes. He discarded everything that could cover his flesh and tried to sleep. But that bloody spear made of meat refused to stand down, constantly remaining erect and throbbing for attention.
What did they plan on accomplishing by spiking my wine?
Clack!
The door?!
A sudden sound caught his attention. Robert raised his head and looked down towards his feet beyond his cock, and noticed the doors to his chamber were being unlocked. He remembered locking them.
Fearing the worst, he made sure his warhammer was right beside his bed. After that, he closed his eyes and acted like he was asleep. What he wanted was any admission of a plot to kill him, or whatever the Martells were planning.
"Hehe~"
Giggles?
Clack!
Robert heard a feminine giggle, followed by the door locking again. Someone had entered his room, that much was clear.
Then, he heard soft footsteps, and finally, a weight pressed on at the lower edge of the bed. Something rustled on the sheets, as if knees dragging. The breath was also audible, a faint hum was everpresent.
Quickly, Robert shot open his eyes and gripped his warhammer handle beside his bed, prepared to smash it onto the head of the intruder. It could be an assassin, he reckoned.
"Ah! It's me, Your Grace!"
"Princess?" Robert frowned and relaxed his grip on the warhammer. Immediately, he took Robert's crass persona. He didn't want to impress her in any way. "What brings you to a man's chamber on such a night?"
"Heh." Arianne stared at Robert's cock as he rested on the bed completely naked. She licked her lips and shifted closer to the side of his waist while on her knees.
Then, softly, she landed one palm on his girth, holding it tight and still failing to circle her fingers around him. "Umm… I was wondering if Your Grace needed something."
Acting innocent? How far will you take it?
Robert scoffed and shamelessly squeezed her hand that already rested on his cock. Then, he made her stroke him slowly. "If it's not your wenching cunt you're offering, you can leave."
Arianne, instead of getting offended, bared her teeth in a mischievous smile. Willingly, she spread her knees wider, parting her white cloak that covered her olive legs. Her attire was too simple, just a white piece of cloak held together by a belt on her waist. The rest were countless gold bracelets, lockets, earrings, and hair decorations.
More and more, she parted her legs on the bed until the entire cloak was spread wide open, split from the front center. Both her fleshy soft thighs lay exposed, but more exposed was her noble cunt—perfectly decorated with a small patch of dark pubes, while her lubricated, brown flower bloomed.
"This cunt, Your Grace?" She chirped, giggling as if intoxicated.
Robert stared at her welcoming entrance in silence. It wasn't the prettiest, not at all like the appetizing core that Lynesse had. But in no way it wasn't enticing. Her brown pussy lips were spread open, and the clit was visible.
"Hah, daring!" Robert scoffed and slid his right hand between her legs. Without warning, he probed his middle finger into her soaking walls. He went in with ease, a sign of how used to she was in welcoming cocks in there. "And what do you intend to do with it?"
"Ummh~" Arianne moaned and roughly pulled open the rest of the gown from around her chest, letting the belt hold the rest in place. She released her jutting, utterly large breasts with a jolt. They sagged slightly, but their sheer size could make any man drool. The huge, dark nipples were made to be suckled. "I can sit on that fat royal cock of yo-oh-urs."
I do need a release.
After having accepted his fate and the body, it didn't take much to decide this time. He agreed right away and pulled out his middle finger from her wet walls. "What are you waiting for then? Hop on!"
With eager movements, Arianne quickly shifted and straddled Robert's naked thighs. She kept herself raised on her knees for a while since Robert's body was simply too large for her shorter frame. His hips and belly forced her to spread her legs more.
But eventually, she slid forward and coated the length of his royal cock with her juices. She felt like going insane in expectation, so she wasted no time and just aligned it with one hand and slammed herself down.
"Aaaaargh! Yes!" Arianne moaned so loud that it knocked out any trace of sleep in Robert. Her brown pussy lips so tightly clenched his cock that it made him go crazy. She wasn't as tight as Lynesse, but the way she shoved most of his cock was shocking. "That's… the biggest I've taken oh! Yet!"
Robert smirked and thrust up into her core to drive the last few inches left. It made Arianne's jaw drop, and her back arch backward. As it made her large breasts rise forward, Robert gripped one and fondled to his heart's desire. Her swells were enormous and soft like a cloud. That large nipple was a joy to pinch.
"Seven hells, Princess! You're better than the best of whores I've fucked." Robert crassly praised her or rather humiliated her. "You took it all!"
Arianne was in too much pleasure to be bothered by his words. Her body, on its own, rose and fell on Robert's cock. She thoroughly relished in the fucking as she used one arm to lean back a little, supporting herself on his knee. Her other hand played with her hair, her breasts jiggled in abandon.
"That's right! That's what whores do." Robert continued to degrade her and mold her breasts into whatever shape his palm desired. His other hand felt her amazing soft thighs, squeezing her. He had no desire or feeling toward Arianne. This was a plain and simple sexual exchange. He felt no need to hold back. "Come down here."
He gripped both her fantastic tits and pulled her down by them. That made the cloud-like globes squeeze against his chest, and her lips fell onto his lips. He had to raise his head a little, however, her height being a hindrance.
But that didn't stop him from gripping her asscheeks and ramming himself deep to the hilt with each thrust. He used his Baratheon strength to the fullest, to slay her whorish cunt. He squeezed her asscheeks so tight that she had to feel the burn.
The claps rang louder than any Robert had heard before. He fucked her in true, wild abandon, with no care of who she was or her status. Just a whore there for his pleasure. It was great that she was a looker and had a body to crave for. That plump ass made him greedy to drill so much that she'd never desire another cock in her life.
"Ummm! Fuck, you brute!" Arianne moaned and groaned at the same time, hard to know what was what. Her body jolted over his chest and lap like a toy for his pleasure. He lifted her, moved her, and slammed his hips up in her divine slit carelessly.
But she didn't mind it. She drowned her tongue into Robert's mouth and ate out his molten spit. She lost all shame to herself and licked all over the King's face before driving back to play with his burning hot tongue.
Their breaths mingled together in that heated exchange. Their spit, their fluids everywhere melted into each other. Her olive flesh contrasted against his pale one, but their sweat glued their skin together—Dornish heat was one heck of a thing.
"That's enough." Robert blurted all of a sudden and tried to sit up while keeping her clamped on his cock.
"WHAT?" Arianne exclaimed, not truly done with her need. A single climax was far from over.
But Robert had something else in mind. No, this wasn’t over, but a mere change of authority. "You're a good whore, but not the best whore. I'll teach you how Robert Baratheon fucks his whores."
"Aaaah! You-oh!"
Before Arianne could react, Robert lifted each of her legs one by one while keeping her on his lap. She was a buxom woman with a lot of desirable flesh, so it was hard for her to bend like that. But, he didn't care and made her land the underside of both her knees onto his shoulder, all the while she remained tightly stuck on his cock.
Then, Robert pulled her upper body closer to his chest, molding her breasts into her own thighs. He gripped her harder against himself and began lifting her body and slamming it down with the sheer strength of his arms.
Plop!
Plop!
Each plunge down onto Robert's cock made her ass slap against his thighs. The clappings that ensued were so loud that they feared someone might break in through that door. But nothing of sorts happened, and Robert fucked her in that dangerously bent position.
"Ummmm…" Arianne was a Princess. No man ever dared to humiliate her, degrade her, and fuck her like a whore. But Robert was a man far higher than her in status. He had the might, the cock, and the control. "Ooooh! Gods, you're… ruining me! Robert, slow down!"
"Shhh…" Robert looked at her face and smiled. "I'm the one in control now."
"Ah! Mmmhm… Oh, oh!" Arianne hugged his neck tight and let him fuck her wildly. It truly felt reckless as his cock hit so close to her womb. She felt her insides burning like no tomorrow, and before she knew it, she throbbed all around his invading length.
"You… You're amazing… You damn beast!" Arianne cried and cursed.
She loved the fucking but scorned it at the same time. She relished his cock but felt scared at the same time. But those burning convulsions made her lose it. The sensations arose from her core and spread everywhere before she finally squirted out like a fountain of youth.
"Um! S-Slow down… fucking slow down!"
"Fuck harder, you said? As expected from the famed Dornish whore." Robert degraded her still and lifted her high to the tip and slammed her down with aided force. He felt it on the tip of his cock—he had gone deeper than ever before. He didn't know the aftermath for the Dornish princess, but her cunt was going to need some long-lasting rest, he was sure.
"Ooooooh… fuck, fuck!" She squirted and leaked through the gaps made from the continuous fucking. Everything felt wet under her ass at that point, and sore. She felt her eyes going hazy and tiredness seeping in. This was a fucking she wasn't expecting. "I-ugh… I only bed handsome men!... Ah, you only… because the King! Ungh! Gods, fuck! M-Marry me, Robert!"
"Very well, I shall marry you!"
Robert stopped holding Arianne from her back and let her fall back like a ragdoll. But as her back landed on the wet bedding, Robert leaned forward, her legs still on his shoulders. He pressed down on her like a mating ritual and continued to fuck her sore pussy.
"You better prepare yourself, whore! I’ll do this every night, every morning—bed, the table, or perhaps on my throne." Robert quickly took one of her tits in his mouth and suckled. It was a sin to not taste them once, at least.
"Umh! Umh! Umh!" Robert's heavy thrusts down into her body made her gasp each time. The bed seemed to be at its limits too as it creaked insanely. She felt insane too, her mind empty with heat, lust, and that utter fullness inside her core. "Yes, yes! Day and night! Do me, do me all you want, just marry me and do me everywhere!"
"Fine! Fine… I will." Robert panted like a dying horse. Her cunt had swollen up inside out and squeezed him tight. His balls had already started to itch inside, and the convulsions peaked. He felt the oozing cream rising like a pent-up volcano.
"Gaaaah!"
Robert pulled out just before he was about to shoot and stroked his cock between her legs which still hung on his broad shoulders. He stroked himself profusely, jetting out strings of white paint all over her heaving belly, her breasts, and a few drops on her lovely face. Once, twice, soon a puddle of creamy mess formed on her.
This was the King's gift to the whore of Dorne.
Argh… Robert finally felt his sanity return. He stopped everything and let his body fall back, head on the pillow. So this is how… Why didn't Cersei prefer this over anything else?
By then, he had understood that Robert's prowess when it came to sexual acts was beyond mortals. A cock and a stamina that could tire any woman in the Seven Kingdoms. From whores to noblewomen, all probably preferred him.
Yet, why didn't Cersei? Was the allure of incest so grand?
Wait! Why did I agree to marry her? I… Why did I say that?
Robert shook his head intensely. The ceiling above looked like a moving cloud to him, as if he were intoxicated. But he remembered not being drunk when he returned to the chamber.
What… He raised his head and looked at Arianne. He had truly fucked her unconscious, it seemed. What was in that kiss? My heart… it's burning.
He felt extremely panicked abruptly. Was this poison? Did she poison him through that kiss? Or her tits? He felt suffocated on the bed. All the walls around him looked as if moving and getting closer.
Hallucination?
He squeezed his eyes shut and still felt like his body was moving and falling into an endless void.
My thoughts… I… I don't know.
Before he could self-reflect, he found his thoughts fading into that same void. Everything became empty.
Was it sleep or unconsciousness?
####
"You love me, don't you? Your Grace, you will marry me today."
"My love."
"Love…"
Robert didn't open his eyes, but he heard everything. Somehow, whatever Arianne had fed him had stopped working. But it seemed she still believed it was working. Her words enraged him as he realized what the plan was.
To have me take the vows inebriated. Out my mind from that poison?
Indeed, it was the easiest way. Once the vows were exchanged, there was no going back since the Septon would spread the word and bear witness. There would likely be more witnesses.
"Aye, my love." Robert went along and opened his eyes. There was Arianne Martell sitting beside him on the bed. Her clothes were new, and her face was clean. "Wha…"
"Shh… Let me lead you." Arianne acted like a caring wife and helped Robert get out of bed. Despite being so much shorter, she was able to put all the clothes on him and ensure he looked like a man about to get married. "Come with me, love. Everyone is waiting."
Without saying anything, Robert let her pull him by his arm.
Clack!
She opened the door and led him out. Ser Barristan was standing right there, shocked. He tried to intervene, but there were other soldiers nearby.
Robert spared a short glance at him and made a fist behind his back with his free hand so it was only visible to Barristan.
"Father is so excited," Arianne mumbled like a maiden in love. "Many lords and ladies from last night's feast have come to bear witness. I can't wait to be yours, Robert."
Are they all involved? It might get bloody.
Soon enough, they arrived at the Tower of the Sun. The guards opened the door, and Arianne led him to the large hall. It was filled with the same guests who were present the night before. Doran was seen at the end of the hall like a father waiting to give away his daughter.
It disgusted Robert.
It was clear that everything was being rushed. Arianne didn't even wait for Doran to make any speech and just dragged Robert to stand facing her with the Septon on their side.
Finally, Robert stopped making his expressions seem foolish and confused. The spark in his gaze returned, piercing at Arianne's face. He felt his hands twitch, the longing for his warhammer and bloodthirst rising.
Almost makes me forgive Tywin for what he did. Martells… You scheming bunch. There is no honor in your house.
Septon coughed and started the marriage proceeding loudly. "We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife; one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."
Robert swept his gaze at the crowd, and finally noticed Ser Barristan far in the back with the warhammer in his arms.
If Targaryens are so treasuring to you. May you be damned with the same fate.
"Halt!" Robert bellowed, so loud that his voice drowned everything in the hall. It made Arianne flinch and shrink back. "Is this the honor that holds House Nymeros Martell? To spike my wine! To poison my blood! To have me stand here and welcome this sham? Is this it?"
Robert glared at Doran Martell who stood not far from them. He so much wished to make the man permanently crippled.
"My love, what are you saying? We’re lover—"
Robert fumed at Arianne and lost it.
Pa!
Right before dozens of lords and ladies, he landed a tight, powerful slap on her olive face. It reddened her cheeks instantly and filled her eyes with tears. She reminded him of Cersei in so many ways.
"Love? You shameless wench! You've bedded half of Dorne and still dare dream of being the queen? Love? Do you know what that means?" Robert bellowed at her face and finally looked at Oberyn Martell. "I came here to hand over Gregor Clegane for the murder of Elia Martell, and I have done it. I came here to see with whom House Martell stands—Now I have seen."
Robert stormed off like a bull and left the small stage made for exchanging vows. As he walked towards the guests, they all parted and made way for the furious King.
"Does this mean war? King Robert Baratheon?"
Robert halted and looked back. It was Oberyn, as expected. "That depends on your next actions."
"You know, it's not just Tywin who killed my beloved sister. You allowed it to happen, and praised the murder." Oberyn slowly walked closer to Robert, the confident smirk on his lips unchanged. The tension in the air thickened. "I wonder if that makes you an enemy of Dorne too—Or perhaps, you came here to deliver more than just Gregor Clegane."
Robert squeezed his fist and repeated Oberyn's words. "Does this mean war? Prince Oberyn Martell?"
Oberyn chuckled. "Depends on your next move."
"I'm returning to King's Landing."
"But you’re an accomplice to my sister’s murder, are you not? Do you think you’ll escape justice here? Alright, I'll allow you to choose trial by combat. Let's see if that fat frame of yours can wield a weapon."
At that provocation, Robert walked back. He stopped a foot away from Oberyn and looked down at his face, "That smirk of yours. Rhaegar had it too. The greatest, the best, the pride of House Targaryen—So many names and fame bestowed upon him, yet it all ended with a strike of my hammer. Don't jump around too much, little snake, you might get stepped on."
"Then I will bite and you will die from the venom," Oberyn giddily replied. "But where's the pleasure in that? I crave the sound of your screams as you beg for forgiveness for the murder of my sister."
Robert understood by then that there was no helping the Martells. They were so drowned in their lust for vengeance that nothing else seemed significant.
"Then you might want to add your brother, your niece, your whores, and your daughters to that list. House Martell's treachery will not go unpunished." Robert ignored Oberyn at that point and peered at Doran. "The fragile balance is being challenged. Only a matter of time before everything topples. Be careful, and good luck—Barristan, we're leaving."
Finally, Robert turned around and left for good. He was joined by Ser Barristan and other Kingsguards before they left the castle and headed towards the port. In no time, they boarded the ships, and all the captains started preparing to set the sails.
Robert was still seething, however. He didn't roar, but it was visible on his face.
"Barristan, we're not returning to King's Landing," Robert declared. "If it's Daenerys Targaryen they are pinning their hopes on, it's better I go and deal with her myself."
"Your Grace, I beg you to reconsider. We don’t know where she has fled, nor do we have the men to chase her to such distant lands. Such a venture requires careful thought, not haste. Let us return to King's Landing first."
Robert slammed his fist on the ship's railing in anger. "So, you want me to sit around and wait for the vipers to strike? I’m no fool. Tywin’s likely got his own schemes brewing. War’s done, but peace? Peace is as far away as ever."
"Your Grace!"
Robert and Barristan looked back. It was a young Kingsguard with a small, rolled parchment in his hand.
"Your Grace, an urgent raven from King's Landing arrived. The city's Sept received it." The Kingsguard handed the small piece of paper.
Robert snatched it unceremoniously and read it.
As soon as he went through the contents, he squashed the paper in his fist. His anger, which was already bordering the tipping point, exploded. "Cunts! Fucking Ironborn cunts! Barristan, we're going to White Harbor!"
"W-What happened, Your Grace?"
"Winterfell has fallen!"
Comments
Grey Jack
Robert us starting to show more of himself. A Bobby tempered by Ned is kind of scary to think about NGL.
