The Prince in the Rock Arc II
A/N: Sup' dudes, Papa Wildfurion's back with another chapter of this fic?
I'm on my last days of a loooong vacation, so I decided to…you know, try and get a second chapter done with 23 days before the supposed deadline- which will aways be the 27th day of the month following the last update.
I have to confess I'm excited with this story, despite the absurdly low numbers in readers and followers. I mean, seriously, I like interacting with my readers…it keeps me motivated, you know? Lol.
Aaaaanyways, there'll be a new character joining Prince Robert's gang in this chapter. This Arc won't be too long, probably two or three chapters till Jon Arryn dies and the true timeline of Game of Thrones begins.
Since Robert's a whoremonger, a lot of females will be attracted to him. Some will hate him, some will love him and some will fuck him. Don't blame me, guys- all of my last works were on anime style, so I'm not used to the 'normal' romance yet.
And I hope my girlfriend never reads this.
ANYWAYS, answering the Reviews on our last chapter…
kira444: Reuploaded because…you know, public here's bigger and GoT lore's smaller than ASOIAF. Also, everybody loves a cocky Black Prince who's hella cool and a whoremonger…I guess. This is basically the improved version of my other story. Thx for the review, man, hope you continue to show your appreciation.
Su5pect: That's the thing. I wanted to make a balanced character- focuses on fighting, delegates other stuff to trustworthy allies. Thx for reviewing!
Guest 47: That's basically the essence of Robert's persona- he's like his father in many ways, but a bit smarter. More interactions are yet to come, hope you continue to read this from now on.
Guest: Well, here's more cousin. Enjoy.
Now then, let's go for the reading.
NEXT DEADLINE: 27/04/2019.
Wildfurion
"The Citadel took my chain, but they could not take my knowledge." —Qyburn.
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor do I own any of the series/anime/movies/comics/games/books cited. I merely own my character, and this fanfic.
The Prince in the Rock Arc II.
-{Robert}-
Robert's Apartments, Kitchen Keep, Red Keep, King's Landing. 1st Moon Turn, Month of the Father, 298 AC.
The next morning, Prince Robert Baratheon, of the Seven Kingdoms, wakes up from a dreamless coma, with a headache so terrible it felt as if elephants had trampled over his head. He's naked, and his large bedchamber reeks of alcohol, perfume and strong Dornish incense, and his younger sister- Princess Myrcella- sleeps comfortably by his side, still fully dressed in crimson silk, and with her little arms wrapped around him.
"What…the fuck happened last night?" the young knight asked to no one in particular. He looked around his room, seeing his favorite war hammer abandoned over a desk, together with his clothes and a still sleeping Tyrek Lannister. The young squire hugged a bottle of strong Lysene wine, and dirtied the floor with his drool. "There was the feast, and then I got a drink, and then another, and then another…"
As expected, King Robert decided to hold a feast at the Small Hall, to celebrate his eldest and favorite son's return to the capital. Wine and ale were abundant, and the Prince- being the drinker he is- insisted on his flagon to be kept full. The rest of his memories were pretty blurry, but he was sure he'd punched Ser Arys at least twice as he was being carried back to bed. "That doesn't explain Cella, though…why in the world is she here?"
Robert may not be an extremely smart man like the erudite Qyburn, or a shrewd person like the manipulative Bella, but he is far from stupid either. Even before he departed from the Westerlands, Robert had known Myrcella would cling to him as soon as she had her eyes on him- but he never expected her to show up in that crowded Ball Room, freshly bathed, perfumed and dressed in her best clothes. "Who'd say that…this young and already trying to have my eyes on you, huh, Cella?" Robert whispers with a smirk, kissing his precious sister's forehead affectionately. The faint, citric smell in the room was most probably her perfume- one he'd gifted her for her last nameday. "Not today, though, not today…"
With a tired yawn, the muscled man rises up from his bed and pulls a pair of trousers from the wardrobe. He then walks towards the door and pulls it open, landing his eyes on the bulky figure of Ser Arys- who stands guard by the entrance. As expected, the Prince's sworn shield has a purple circle around his left eye, where he was punched the night before.
"Ser Arys, my good ol' friend." The Stormlander greets apologetically, patting the Reachman knight's shoulder amiably. "I apologize for last night. I was a bit…out of myself…"
"There's no need to apologize, Your Grace. I was the one who tried to bring you here in the first place, so I'm to be blamed as well." The green-eyed Kingsguard replies with a smile. Ser Arys has been one of the Prince's oldest companions- being a loyal protector and Sword Shield since he joined the Kingsguard, on 290 AC. He's a good, cordial man who gets along nicely with the cheerful Baratheon. "I figured His Grace would be thirsty in the morning, so I also took the liberty to leave a jar for His Grace, with some ice."
"Thank you, that's great! Just what I needed, mah' ol' man!" The Prince then looks around, seeing the stairways that lead down to the lower floors of the tower- where there's a small kitchen, a bath, a dressing room and cells for the servants. "Is Jenny here?" Jenny was the Prince's personal cook, and casual companion in his bed as well. Ser Arys nods. "Tell her to bring me some food then, is it still morning? I guess…tell her to make it for four, with me included."
The Baratheons- especially the King and Robert- being usually strong and healthy as bulls, were well known through the Kingdoms for their huge appetites. This included food.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
The Prince gives his shield a mere nod- too tired, and with too strong of a hangover to elaborate any more sentences. He finds the jar of water on his nightstand, and quickly sends half of its ice cold content down his throat with one generous gulp. With his thirst sated, it was time to get his squire up…
So he kicks Tyrek's side with the least strength he can muster in his hangover, the Lannister boy wincing in pain as he's brutally pulled out of his sleep by his mentor.
"Why?!" His cousin simply asks, looking at him with the biggest scowl a boy of three and ten can muster. Robert could tell by his face that the kick hurt…a lot.
"To toughen you up, lil' man." The Baratheon replies with a chuckle, offering a hand to pull his squire up. "You ain't becoming a true Knight, if you aren't tough."
"Say that to Ser Loras Tyrell…" Robert heard the boy mumble lowly.
"Loras lost to me on the semi-finals at Lannisport, six months ago." Was the Prince's carefree response, as he handed his war hammer to the squire. As usual, Tyrek whimpered under the weapon's immense weight- though he manage to keep standing this time. "Now go and polish this. We're goin' to train after I eat."
The boy opened his mouth to say something…but decided against it, and left the room with a polite 'Your Grace'. Tyrek was a good lad, thirteen namedays of age… ' I must find him a wife soon.' The Stormlander mused. 'A wife with lands, and money. I'll ask ol' Jon about some girls later…'
He also needed to look for someone suitable to Joff. But that would come later, much later…
Now, it is time for his little Princess to wake up. Robert makes his way to the comfortable bed, placing his hand onto Myrcella's shoulder before shaking it with the least strength possible. "Time to wake up, Cella." He whispers gently to her ear, hearing her mumble in her sleep. "Wake up my little princess."
"Alyssa…give mefive minutes…"
'Alyssa? Oh…that Alyssa.' Alyssa was a buxom, brunette common girl who has been serving as the Princess' handmaid for quite some time already. She was one of the few girls that resisted his charms, though he DID see her being courted by that Valeman boy Hugh. "It's not Alyssa, it's me, Robert."
"Big…brother?!" Myrcella's green eyes suddenly shot open, meeting his greenish blue orbs merely inches from her face. The girl realizes this, and a blush takes over her cheeks.
"That's me! *chuckle* You're still callin' me that, Cella?"
"G-G-Good morning, how was your sleep?" Robert's younger sister asked, completely ignoring the fact she'd just been caught on his bed…again. "You were…"
"Pretty drunk, yeah, I know." The Stormlander cut her short with a smirk. Deciding to further his teasing, Robert swiftly picks the girl into his strong arms- in a way that Myrcella now lays parallel to the floor, more than twice her own height. "Now then…little lady. Did you miss me so much you needed to sleep with me?"
"No! I-"
Just before Robert could further his teasing, the door is pushed open by Ser Arys. "Her Grace, the Queen, and Prince Tommen." The Knight announces, as the prince's mother steps into the chamber with the grace of a goddess.
Cersei Lannister is a woman still considered to be the most beautiful in all of Westeros- despite her age of thirty-two namedays- with her golden curls and emerald eyes. Robert couldn't help but agree- the frilly purple dress she wore only made her even more gracious.
Though Robert was smart enough to see behind a pretty face. His mother was smart like Myrcella, and, though she was gentle and loving to her children, ruthless and fierce like him and Joffrey.
"Big brother!" the little blond figure that was Tommen immediately said, running up to him to hug his leg. "Good mornin'!"
"Morning there, little man, why are ya speaking like me?" the cheerful Stormlander asked, ruffling his little brother's curls with a flashy smile. He then turns to his mother, whose eyes study him…thoroughly.
"Mother." The Young Stag greets with a grin, carefully putting the clingy Myrcella down to give the woman a tight hug. "I missed you…"
"And I missed you too, my big, noisy cub." Cersei replied with a warm, gentle smile. He felt her lips touching his shaved cheek for a brief moment, before feeling a strong pull on them. "Though you did drink too much yesterday."
"Aye', I did…" The Prince replied with a sheepish grin. "Cella here brought me to bed before I misbehaved, though…"
"Is that so?" The Queen asks ironically, turning to Myrcella with a raised eyebrow. Damn, that expression runs in the family. "Haven't I told you, Myrcella, that you're too old to sleep with your brother."
"I'm sorry, mother…" the blonde girl replied with a blush. "It's just that…"
"I pulled her to me by accident." Robert cut her short, giving his sister a mischievous wink- that their mother obviously noticed. "Quite the mover I am in my sleep. Poor Cella had no choice, but to sleep with her big, noisy, drunk brother!"
"I see…" The Queen replied with a smile. Leaving the matter slide, she places her index on her son's bare chest- running her finger over the showing muscles of his chest. "You've grown taller, since the last time you came to visit."
"Jenny's been feeding me well, I can't help it."
"Big bro, who's Jenny?" Tommen innocently asks, earning a disapproving glare from their mother.
"Jenny is…" at this moment the door opens, letting in the smell of delicious, roasted lamb with onions and spicy sauce. "…right here!"
In walks a very pretty girl, on her early twenties. She's a bit chubby, though it doesn't make her any less attractive, and has long, straight blonde hair and blue eyes. A classical beauty from the Westerlands.
"Your Graces." The girl says with a bow, placing the tray of food upon the large, round table on the room's solar. She then looks at Robert, who's openly eying her curvaceous figure with – heavily restrained- desire. "Is a drink of your desire, my Prince?"
"Yes, please. Bring me that strong black ale from the Crossed Swords, Jenny. The same as always." He then turns to his mother and siblings. "And iced Dornish wine for my family."
As they sit down to eat- enjoying the privileged view the Kitchen Keep has of the Blackwater Bay- the Prince seems to finally notice an absence at his table. "Mother, where's my boy Joff?"
"Joffrey is at the Library, studying with Grandmaester Pycelle…" Is the Queen's response, as she savors a bite of the spicy meat. "In six days, the city will be flooded with knights and ladies, from all over the realm…"
"And in six days, all of them will learn how the dirt tastes." The usually cheerful prince says, calmly accepting a glass of his ale from Jenny. Who then serves his family wine, before leaving with a bow. "I'm winning this tournament."
"Of course you will, you're big bro!" Tommen cheerfully says. "The people say big bro is Daemon Blackfyre reborn. And Daemon never lost a tournament!"
"He also died, with an arrow through his neck." The Queen says sardonically, squeezing Robert's arm gently. "Don't let such rumors get over your head, Rob."
"I won't…" the Baratheon replies with a teasing wink to Myrcella. "Because I already know I'm the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms."
The rest of the meal follows normally, with the Prince talking about some of his experiences in the Rock, while listening to what his siblings and mother had to tell him about their lives.
"Brother." In walks Bella, Robert's shrewd half-sister, dressed in a hooded cloak that seems to merge with the shadows of the Keep. "The Small Council is being held at the Tower of the Hand, Lord Arryn requested your presence."
"And who are you?" The Queen asks with a displeased scowl.
"I'm Bella, Your Grace, and I serve the Crown Prince, my dearest half-brother." The girl replies with a mocking smile. Feeling the tension escalating in between them, the Prince squeezes her hand gently.
"Come on, Bella, don't be like this…" he whispers to her ear, feeling her body shiver under his voice. "Mother is not a person you'd like as your enemy. Now go and warn ol' Jon, I'll be following you soon."
"Understood." The black-haired girl replies, bowing to the Queen and her children before leaving- as swift and graciously as she had entered.
"I still don't understand why you brought such a girl to the Red Keep, Rob."
"She's useful." The Prince replies with a grin, finishing his whole flagon of ale with one long, generous gulp, before placing the empty horn onto the table. He then kisses his mom, and siblings, goodbye, before grabbing a white, cotton dress shirt from the wardrobe. "I'll be on my way now."
And so he made his way to the Tower of the Hand, whistling a song he'd heard in a brothel. 'I wonder…'
'…maybe I can see her tonight?'
-{Renly}-
Jon Arry's Solar, Tower of the Hand, Red Keep, King's Landing. 1st Moon Turn, Month of the Father, 298 AC.
The Master of Laws of the Seven Kingdoms- Lord Renly Baratheon, of Storm's End- doesn't need to be a genius like the IMP, to know that Prince Robert was trying to get drunk…yet again.
'Like father, like son, I suppose.' The young, handsome Baratheon thought with a discreet grin as he watches the Prince casually empty another goblet of precious Arbor Gold- before swiftly helping himself some more of the cold wine. 'Good, it'll be easier to get rid of herthen…'
The Lord of Storm's End is a tall, clean-shaven, good-looking man of twenty-one years of age, and has the characteristic black hair of his House long and falling down upon his shoulder. Renly's looks are eerily similar to the prince's- one might even mistake them for brothers- though he is much shorter- standing at 68 inches tall, while Robert is over 82- and has a less muscular build. His attire is also much more frivolous than the Prince's simple white, rough, cotton dress shirt- and consists of an extremely expensive, dark green velvet doublet embroidered with golden stags, completed by a half-cape made of the rare cloth-of-gold.
"I believe we're all on par with the Kingdoms' dire financial situation…" Lord Jon Arryn- the Hand of the King- begins with a sigh. The Old Falcon is dressed in a long, blue tunic with the sigil of his house- a soaring falcon- sown on its chest. "The Crown is currently 5 million, 600 thousand Gold Dragons in debt, and it keeps growing…"
"Yet the King keeps spending…" The stern Master of Ships and Renly's older brother, Lord Stannis of Dragonstone, replies. "The tournament on Prince Joffrey's nameday will cost us at least 200 thousand Dragons more."
"Not if I win it, though…" the Prince Robert comments with a grin, chewing at some almonds while tasting his drink. "Why are we still counting coppers, old man Jon? Thought the fucking Mad King'd left us a pile of gold."
"And His Grace made sure to spend it, quite generously, might I add." The royal Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish- more famously known as Littlefinger- rebuts with a sardonic grin of his own. Renly never truly liked Petyr, he was too ambitious for his position. "Though I'm sure the Crown Prince is conscious of this."
"Ya better watch your silver tongue, Littlefinger, or the next thing you're kissing is lil' Betha here." Betha is the name given to the Prince's massive hulk of pure steel he called a hammer. 'He always carries that thing around…' the Lord of Storm's End thinks with a sigh. 'I wonder if he takes it to bed too.'
"I apologize, Your Grace, I meant no offense." Baelish replies with false humility. The Young Stag sits on his father's reserved place, right by Jon Arryn's seat- as the King is, as usual, too busy whoring around to attend.
"I'm sure you didn't, Baelish."
"Lords, Your Grace, please, we need to focus on the matters at hand." The Master of Whispers, the eunuch known as Lord Varys, says in the usual gentle, effeminate tone of his. "There are Seven Kingdoms to run, after all."
"Indeed, Lord Varys. Thank you." The elderly Hand says with a nod. "The Tyroshi are knocking at our door, demanding we pay them their debt. What do you suggest, my Lords?"
"Tell me, how much is the taxes on clerks, artisans and traders?" the Prince asks- serious for the first time in that meeting.
"About 40%, I believe, Your Grace." The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, replies. "Why, though?"
"Reduce them to 30%." Robert then turns his gaze to Renly, making the Lord instinctively perk up on his seat. What he saw in that green eyes wasn't the usual, carefree Stormlander he's used to…it is the Prince's grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, that he sees. "Uncle Renly, I want you to pass an edict, reducing their taxes in 10% for an indefinite time."
The Lord of Storm's End merely nodded, accepting a glass of water from a passing servant.
"May I ask how this will help us pay the debt, my Prince?" inquires Baelish. It is a question that also forms on Renly's head: how in the world would lower taxes help pay the Crown's Debt?
"What my nephew wants to do with this cut in tariffs, is to attract more merchants to King's Landing." Stannis adds solemnly, giving the Master of Coin a glare that does not go unnoticed by Renly. "With those people having more money to spend, consumption of food and other imports will increase, as will the revenue from the port fees and tariffs."
"Hmm, I see…" The Spider says after some seconds of musing. "That is a good plan, Your Grace."
"Ain't that?" Robert, now back to his usual self, replies with a sheepish smile. "Since we're all talking bout' damn Dragons here, ol' man Jon, I'd like to make a request…"
"And that is?"
"The Dragonpit. I want rights over it." The Prince says, biting on a savory Peach from the basket on the table. "That ugly thing ain't being used for centuries, and my Maester wants to do some stuff in there."
"A 'Maester' that was…banished for dark…practices…" the old figure that is Grand Maester Pycelle speaks up. "Your Grace, I don't believe Qyburn is…unworthy of royal…"
"Qyburn has been my most royal retainer for years, Pycelle. He's more than worthy of my gold and trust."
"Your wish is granted, my Prince." Lord Jon replies with a warm smile. "As long as the city's not put at risk, the Dragonpit is all yours."
The rest of the Small Council meeting follows, long and tedious, until it is finally time for lunch. They talk about many things, things that did little to interest the young Lord of Storm's End. The Prince steadily makes his way to leave the Tower, seeing an opportunity- Lord Renly steps up to him with a smile.
"Uncle Renly! Hot day, ain't it?" Robert greets with a grin, tapping the lord's shoulder amiably. "I'm going to Chataya's after my lunch, wanna come? Lord Arryn has invited me to eat with his family, but I can't stand that wife of his."
"Unfortunately, I can't indulge in such pleasures today, my prince." 'And probably not never' Renly thought with a grin. He had to prepare for the city for the guests that would come to watch/ participate in the tournament, including a certain knight. "Though I do wish to have a word with my dear nephew."
"Sure, speak." Is the Prince's casual reply. The duo passes by the Sept, and Renly sees Robert's eyes staring at the Maidenvault- as if he could tear the damn building down just with his glare. "What is it, uncle?"
"You see, there is this maiden…"
"*chuckle* Her name is Loras, I suppose." The cheerful Baratheon cuts him short with a chuckle. "Don't worry, uncle, I won't be harming his pretty face in the jousts."
Yes, the Crown Prince was- indeed-one of the few people in the Seven Kingdoms to know about Lord Renly's true sexual preferences. Surprisingly, however, Robert couldn't just care about what others did in bed- he had better things to do, after all- so he never judged his flamboyant uncle, not even once.
"Respect your uncle, boy." Renly replies with laughter of his own, punching his nephew's arm playfully. "There is this certain maiden I know, she's coming to King's Landing for the tournament with her brother."
The charismatic lord than shows him a small image inside an exquisite, rose-shaped gold locket. Depicted in a Myrish style of oiled painting, the girl is gracious and very beautiful- having fair skin, curly brown hair and brown eyes. Her name is Margaery, Margaery Tyrell, and she is the youngest daughter of the rich and powerful Lord Paramount of the Reach.
"Beautiful, isn't she? They say she looks like Lyanna Stark."
"Pretty girl, indeed." The Prince replies with a smirk. "Seems to run in the family, she looks just like Loras."
"She's a precious flower of Highgarden, beautiful and intelligent, perfect to be a Queen." This is it. Renly had put his Trebuchet right by the Prince's Dragon. He knew Robert, his nephew was like the father- never truly able to resist a pretty girl, at least from Renly's perspective. "And she'll be coming to the capital to watch her brother compete. Does it sound interesting to you, Robert?"
"It does…" The Prince halts. They stand on top of the Red Keep's massive walls, with full view to the chaotic mess of a city that is King's Landing. Robert's greenish blue eyes land upon the Sept of Baelor, at Visenya's Hill. "Ya know Uncle Renly, I hate this place."
"May I ask why, Your Grace?"
"It stinks, and it's nothin' more than a nest of vipers." He then turns back to Renly, with cheerfulness no longer in his eyes. "And I have little love for vipers, the one I truly love is a dragoness."
"A dragoness your father does not approve of, with no money and no lands." Renly replies. "Be realistic, Robert…"
A tense silence follows, the Prince's gaze is lost on the horizon, though Renly needs not to look at him- to see the fuming wrath building within.
"Ya know, sometimes I think why I don't throw you from this fucking wall, uncle Renly." Robert finally says with a resigned sigh. "Very well, I'll consider the Tyrell girl. But do not build any hopes up, lil' man."
"Still better than nothing, I suppose." The Stormlander replies with a smile. "Now come, shall we eat, my Prince?"
'A small victory.' The Baratheon thinks with a small grin. It wouldn't be long, until Margaery had the Crown Prince dancing to her tune- and the Tyrells would finally oust the despicable Lannisters from court, once and for all.
'Just you wait, Cersei, your days as Queen…are counted."
-{The Dragon's Daughter}-
The Sept, Red Keep, King's Landing. 1st Moon Turn, Month of the Father, 298 AC.
The sun had long set in the Seven Kingdoms, the westernmost corner of civilization in the know world.
In the quiet, lonely darkness of the Red Keep's small Sept, the hooded girl lights up one more candle to the Maiden. 'May she give me the courage I need to fight my battles.' She thinks, before moving on to the Warrior's altar, kneeling before the statue of the god before lighting up another candle. 'And may the Warrior guide my beloved's swords.'
"Are you done with your prayers, my lady?" Ser Preston asks from his place by the Sept's door. Ser Preston Greenfield is a short, blonde knight from the Kingsguard who is in charge of 'protecting'- more of watching- her for the night.
He's also a perverted lecher, who gives her body shameless glances whenever he has the chance. 'He'd violate me without a second thought.' She thinks with a scowl, which is hidden by the shadows of her hood. 'If not for the fact he'd be dead the moment he dares to lay a finger on me.'
"My lady?" She hears the Knight say, his metal boots echoing on the floor as he walks closer. A gloved hand lands on her shoulder, and the girl looks up to see his ugly face looking down on her- his eyes are like a beast, staring at his prey. "I asked a question. Are you done with your prayers?"
"Ya'd better take your hands off her, Preston." A voice echoes in the dark, and both turn to see a young man, leaning against the Sept's open door. By his side, is another knight of the Kingsguard, in a white armor. "Else I'm removing them myself."
"Y-Your Grace!" The Knight nervously kneels, lowering his head to the one and only Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert 'the Younger' Baratheon. "I meant no offense, I was merely asking milady if she-"
"Get the fuck out of my presence, Greenfield." The handsome Prince says with a growl. Standing at 7 feet of height, the black-haired giant towers over the knight like an adult before a child. His greenish eyes then turn to her, and he rushes down to hug her. "Are you alright? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"N-No, he didn't. Thank you, though…"
"I'll be standing guard by the door, Your Grace." The other Kingsguard says with a playful grin. From his accent, she can tell he's from the Reach.
"Thank you, ser Arys." Robert replies with a nod, eyes fixed on the doors till they're shut. They are finally alone, and his gaze turns back to her with restrained desire. "I've missed you, Rhaenys."
The girl feels strong arms wrapping around her slender waist, pulling her close and the Prince lowers his head to smash his lips against her own. Her hands run over his toned chest, taking in the lines of his muscles as their tongues battle for dominance. Her muffled moans break the holy silence in the Sept.
So lost in their passion they are, that both never notice the hood falling from her head, revealing the beauty that hid beneath it…
Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, of the Iron Throne, is a beauty capable of making the Maid herself fume in envy. Her figure is slender, and gracious, and her olive skin reflects the meek light of the candles. Her brown hair falls into a long braid behind her back, reaching down to her wide hips. Rhaenys' eyes are breathtaking ponds of lilac- due to the blood of Old Valyria flowing in her veins- and her breasts, though the size of an apple, are firm and soft.
She's the only daughter of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the heir to the Mad King, Aerys II- the Crown Prince who died by Robert Baratheon's hands at the Battle of Trident, with a hammer to his chest. The daughter who was spared as a child during the Sack of King's Landing, when Ser Jaime Lannister broke into her room to rescue her from the gruesome fate, that her other relatives had…
And the girl that was now kept locked in the Maidenvault, a hostage, to prevent Dorne from rising in open rebellion against the Usurper. And the very girl, that fell in love with a man she was supposed to hate…
"We can't Robert, this is a Sept." She tries to push him away, as they break from from their kiss for air, only to be brought even closer into his embrace. "Let me go, Rob."
"Do you really want me to stop?" He asks pleadingly. "I know you've missed me just as much as I did."
That was true. She always felt it hard, every time when he had to leave for Casterly Rock, she'd spend night after night, crying before her sleep. The septas would pity her, but even they couldn't understand what was going on with the former Princess.
"Of course I missed you, you idiot…" she mumbles back, fighting hard to hold the tears that formed in her eyes. "You left for the Rock and stayed in that damned mountain for more than a year, I thought you'd…you'd left me. I was lonely without you here."
"Aw, come on, Rhae. Ya know me better than that…" The cheerful Stormlander said with a warm smile, giving butterfly kisses on her jaw, before going for the tip of her small Dornish nose. "I may be an idiot, and a whoremonger, but I'd never abandon you. Even if I had to fight all the knights in the Kingdom, if I had to burn all the Seven Kingdoms down I'd still do it."
"I know you'd do it, you silly fool." The Targaryen princess replies, pecking her handsome lover's lips lovingly.
"Your silly fool."
For some minutes they just sat there, hugging each other- backs lying against the sept's walls. Rhaenys rested her head against the Prince's chest, hearing his heartbeats through the cloth. 'He's so warm…'
"It's getting harder, ya know..." Robert finally says with a sigh, breaking the silence with his usually loud, thunderous voice. Rhaenys' response is to merely raise an eyebrow- an expression she'd learned from Robert, who'd in turn learned from his grandfather, Tywin. "My uncle…Renly, ya know him?"
The Princess nods. She remembers the frivolous Lord of Storm's End, from the time they were caught together at the Godswood. He was a charismatic fellow, though Rhaenys couldn't bring herself to trust him.
"Today he talked to me about a girl…a Tyrell girl."
"As a possible bride for you, I presume?" The Princess inquires, earning a nod from her Stormlander lover. "It can't be helped, you're the King's eldest son, the Crown Prince…" A soft hand lands on Robert's shaved cheeks, and Rhaenys softly forces him to look at her. She could tell he was worried, without any words being said. That's how well she knew Robert. "Many Houses- great or small- will try to wed their daughters to you, every lord in Westeros would be happy to have his grandson sit on the Iron Throne…"
"I don't like complex words, and I do not like either want any of them, and you know that, Rhae." Was Robert's response, as his arms instinctively wrap around her. "If there's a woman I'll marry it is you, Rhaenys Targaryen…"
"The daughter of Rhaegar." The princess cuts him short, before he can answer, she continues. "A Princess that can give you nothing more than her body and name. A beggar Princess…"
"There comes you again with all the complicated words." Robert says with a sigh. "Your uncle…he's the rulin' Prince of Dorne, and your father would be the King. You're the beautiful, and smarter than my lil' man Tyrion. I can't see why anyone wouldn't think of ya as perfect."
"If only things were that simple, Robert. I don't even look like my father, and my mother's family would hate you…."
"Your uncles can hate me all they want from that desert of theirs, I ain't caring a bit." The prince replies with a thunderous chuckle. He then kisses Rhaenys' forehead affectionately. "I don't know who's worse. You, mother or my ol' man. You keep refusing me, Mom wants me to marry one of my cousins- that Lannister twins- and the ol' fat bastard that is my father wants me to have a good Northern wife."
"And here you are, embracing an enemy's daughter, in a Sept…" Rhaenys states with a sigh. Despite what Robert says, the Targaryen princess knows fully well what she is- a hostage. If not for her Dornish uncles, she'd probably be dead for a long time already. "Honestly, what to do with you, Robert…"
"Be my wife, be the Queen that the Seven Kingdoms need…you know I wasn't born to be a King, I'm a warrior, Rhae. I want you to sit on that damned throne, while I drink, hunt and whore my way to an early grave."
"And there's I wish nothing more than this, my love, to be your Queen, and give you beautiful, little Dornish princes and princesses." The Targaryen princess replies with passion, before he can kiss her again, though, she stands up- adjusting her cloak around her body before putting the hood on. "Let's go to the Godswood, there's less chance of us being found there…"
"I'm starting to like this…" The Prince replies with an eager grin. The walk to the Red Keep's Godswood is short and uneventful. The gargantuan silhouettes of the fortress's hide them from curious eyes in their shadows, and the ones that actually see them say nothing- probably it's just the Whoremonger Prince taking another maid for the night.
After a few minutes of walk into the vast groove, they finally reach the place Rhaenys was looking for: the Heart Tree, an ancient, great oak with limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines. Robert rapidly takes his seat onto the tree's woods, eyes devouring her body with untamed lust. The pale moonlight makes it through the dense treetops, bathing their bodies in white.
"You're beautiful, Rhaenys…" The Prince says after she removes the cloak. A sleeveless Dornish dress clings tight to the tall Targaryen's slender body, greatly accentuating her curves.
"*giggle* I bet you say that to all the girls~" Rhaenys replies with a giggle, as she walks up to him to straddle on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wore no underwear that night, and could feel the rough cotton of his pants rubbing against her crotch. "My whoremonger knight~"
"You're the only one I love, though." He says with an eager smirk.
Lemon Warning! (If you haven't FAV/FOLLOW/Reviewed yet, you're losing your gf/bf to Lord Varys.)
No words are said between them anymore. Rhaenys leans down to passionately smash her lips against his, fingers digging into his black mane as she invades his mouth with her tongue in a fierce battle for dominance. She can feel Robert's strong hands running over her body, exploring every part of her until one settles on her breasts, squeezing the flesh firmly while the other went to finger her wet mound.
"I like it when you're this assertive." Her lover says with a grin, as they break their kiss for air. His finger never stops coming in and out of her, and Rhaenys struggles not to moan in pleasure. "My slutty little dragoness."
"*moan* D-Don't call me slutty!" An embarrassed Rhaenys replies, trying to keep her voice down. She can feel Robert's licking the sensible skin of her neck, planting butterfly kisses on her scalp as his hand twists a hardened nipple. "I-I'm not a slut~"
"You're my slut." The Prince whispers teasingly, nibbling at her earlobe. Two fingers are now inside her, pumping in an out in a furious pace.
They kiss again, and this time it is Robert that dominates her. Rhaenys' loud moans are muffled by his mouth, as a mind-breaking orgasm runs through her spine. Her juices drench his pants, but they couldn't care less as the sounds of her pleasure fill in the silent godswood.
"You came faster this time, Rhae." The man teases, not stopping with his ministrations even though she's still sensitive. "Did you really miss me this much?"
The Baratheon gives her no time to respond, he pulls the Princess down into another deep, passionate kiss, before shifting their positions so that she now has her back to the tree, while he's on top. His clothes are gone, and she could see the excitement on his eyes.
"I love you, Rhaenys." Is what he whispers to her ear when he penetrates her. "You're mine, my slutty dragoness."
With a smug grin, Robert stares deep into Rhaenys' lilac eyes as he pistons into her insanely tight crotch. The Dornish beauty responds to his movements with thrusts of her own, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills in the silent groove. She can't just hold her moans back anymore, as her nails dig deep onto her lover's muscled back.
"You hear it, you belong to me, Rhaenys Targaryen!" She hears him growling to her ear. Rhaenys' mind is blurred with pleasure, as he teases the aching nub that is her clitoris while taking her roughly.
"YES! I love you, Robert!" Is the only thing she can say, clawing to his back so hard she draws blood. "I love you! I love you!"
" Rhaenys I'm about to…"
"Inside, do it inside!" The Princess cuts him short with a bestial kiss, not even caring if it was a safe day or not. She could take Moon Tea later, just to prevent it, though. Hearing her sultry moans, her lover speeds up his thrusts- kissing and biting her hard brown nipples. "Yeeeeess~"
"I'm coming, Rhae! I'm coming!" She hears him groan into her ear, before going for a bite at her exposed, tempting, tanned neck. With one last thrust, Robert then buries himself deep inside her, before exploding in his release.
Lemon End! (If you haven't FAV/FOLLOW/Reviewed yet, you're losing your gf/bf to Lord Varys.)
For a moment, they just lay there- under the branches of the Heart Tree, enjoying each other's warmth under the eyes of the Old Gods of the First Men. With her lover so close, she could smell the Lysene perfume on his skin- mixed with the queer smell of a man's sweat- and the mint he'd chewed on before they'd kissed.
"I'll say it again…" He whispers to her ear. "I love you, Rhaenys Targaryen."
They were soon making love again. The Princess mounted him with passion, kissing and moaning as loud as she could- knowing nobody would venture into the Godswood this late at night. Unbeknownst to them, however, a pair of emerald eyes observed them from the shadows of the cottonwood trees.
And it was easy to tell, that they were not exactly pleased, with the sight.
-{Tyrek}-
Blackwater Bay. 1st Moon Turn, Month of the Father, 298 AC.
The Fury suavely rocks back and forth on the waves of Blackwater Bay. The tide is high, and the sea is abnormally calm for an early morning- yet, for Tyrek Lannister- the Crown Prince's cousin and personal squire- holding his breakfast down his throat turns out to be a harder and harder task. 'I hate ships.' The blonde thinks, while gripping the edge of the galley.
A friendly hand lands upon his shoulder.
"I can see you're not used to the sea, boy." The Lannister does not need to turn to know it's Qyburn, the Prince's pet Necromancer. The elderly man is tall, has grayish hair and warm brown eyes that give him a fatherly aura- an aura that serves to hide the ruthlessness and cruelty the man has. Dressed in a ragged, grayish robe- he looks more like a beggar, than a retainer of the heir to the Iron Throne."May I suggest you a remedy?"
"I suggest you don't experiment on the boy, old geezer." This time, it is Bella that makes herself heard. The Prince's bastard sister wears a revealing, white Dornish dress instead of the usual black robe. "He's the Prince's cousin, and a good squire."
"I was merely offering a remedy to our young companion." Is Qyburn's calm response. The Bloody Maester seems unfazed by Bella's open hostility to him. "There's no need to worry, my dear Bella."
"Just give him the damn remedy already, Qyburn." Prince Robert finally walks in, with a little girl riding on his shoulders. She had blue eyes, hair black as the night and a square jaw- like most of the Baratheons seemed to have- as well as peculiarly large ears. Her most noticeable feature, however, was the cracked, flaking grey skin that eats half of her left cheek. 'Greyscale…she must be Lord Stannis' daughter, Shireen.'
"Are ya alright, Tyrek?" The Prince then inquires, turning his greenish eyes back to the squire.
"I'm afraid not, Your Grace."
"Come on, big brother, let's play!" The girl pleads, giving a slight pull to Robert's hair. "You promised you'd play with me."
"And he will, my Lady." Says Bella with a giggle. "What are we doing here, Rob?"
"Uncle Stannis, I wanted to talk to him." The Prince replies with a sheepish smile, planting an affectionate kiss on Shireen's little hand. "He'll be patrolling the Bay today, so I decided to accompany him."
"Your mood seems to be especially bright today, Your Grace." Qyburn says, handing over a small flask of red liquid to Tyrek, who drinks it eagerly. The remedy tastes strangely sweet. "Did you have a good night?"
"Yes, indeed. Sex…great medicine."
"I can't help but agree…" Bella teases back. Despite the 5 years she'd been accompanying them, Tyrek can't still fully grasp what role the coal-haired girl had in the Prince's court. Qyburn said she was 'the one who kept him safe from knives at night', so…maybe a Spymaster? "Though it's been a while since I've had my share of it."
"Your Grace."
The four turn to the ordinary figure of Ser Davos Seaworth. Tyrek liked the brown-haired Knight of Onions as much as he liked the Prince's stern oldest uncle, that is, nothing. The man needed only to smuggle a cargo of salted fish and onions into a besieged castle, to be considered worthy of being a Knight! 'While I have to go through Prince Robert's training regime…'
"Ser Davos! It's been a hella long time." The Prince greets with a grin- picking little Shireen in his arms before putting her down. "I'll play with you later, my lovely." He says while filling the girl's face with kisses…even the grey part. Gross. Robert then turns back to the former smuggler, greeting him with a bear hug. "How's your hand?"
"Still working, Your Grace." The Knight responds sternly, showing them his left hand- which was…shortened, to say the least. According to what the Prince had told him, Lord Stannis considered it a just punishment for the man's years as a smuggler- to lose the tips of his left fingers. "Dale would be very happy to see you, my Prince. You've surely grown a lot since the last time…"
"At least now I can put my hammer through Victarion Greyjoy's face this time." Is the Stormlander's cheerful response. It was a thing few people noticed, the Prince's nose was a bit twisted to the right- broken by the armored fist of Victarion Greyjoy during the Battle of Fair Isle. Uncle Kevan once told him that a little Robert- already in love with war at such a tender age- had boldly attacked the Ironborn captain with an axe. "Damn, those were good times. I still remember the ol' uncle Stannis, using this ship here to sink the Golden Storm."
"Aye, it was a great day, Your Grace." Ser Davos replies with a bow. "The Lord Stannis will receive you now."
The Prince nods, signaling for Tyrek to follow him. They walk down into the deck, through the rows of sweaty oarsmen into the small room that served as Lord Stannis' office on board. Furniture in the place consisted of little more than a table, two chairs and a bed. 'As expected of Lord Stannis…'
"Sup' old man Stannis, still as grim as usual, I presume!" Robert greets, as cheerful and nonchalant as always. Without even waiting for a response, the black-haired Prince takes the seat facing his uncle. "There's no wine here. Pity. Men work better on ships when they're drunk, at least that's what I've heard."
"Your presence honors me, Your Grace." Like the Crown Prince, Stannis Baratheon is a tall, broad-shouldered, muscled man . His eyes are, like the King's, of an intense blue, and both his raring hair and beard are of an intense black. Unlike his brothers and nephew, however, the stern Lord of Dragonstone has pale, thin lips and his face is usually tight in a frown. "To what do I owe the visit, though?"
'He truly has the personality of a lobster…' the Young Lannister muses. Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Stannis was known as the most serious and dutiful of the Baratheons- an accomplished commander, and a good man, but also a man with no friends. 'Except for the Prince…maybe…'
"I wanted to ask for a favor, ya know?" Is the Prince's reply- with the sheepish smile of usual. His personal cook, the beautiful girl named Jenny, walks in, with a tray of wine and cheese. "Thank ya, Jenny."
"What type of favor, might I ask?" the Master of Ships asks, eying the Prince disapprovingly as he drinks wine straight from the jar. Tyrek had heard the Lord wasn't fond of drinking or women. Seems like the rumors are true.
"I want you to build me a new ship…a good galley." The Prince begins, taking a bit of the cheese Jenny brought. Sometimes, even Tyrek was surprised by how much the man ate. "Joff's nameday's in three days, if things work out well for me at the tourney then I'll be heading to Sunspear with Rhae after that. I want to give him his gift when I return."
"And…"
"And I've been thinkin' about it, maybe a ship would be good."
"My Prince, you know Prince Joffrey is…" Lord Stannis tries to start, but is cut short by Robert's slamming his fist onto the table.
"I know what Joffrey is, uncle." The Stormlander says, cutting his uncle short with a glare. "I know what my lil' brother's been doin' when he thinks I ain't seeing him." Robert then takes another generous gulp from his iced wine, before continuing. "I think a ship will help him…distract himself."
'I'm afraid it won't, Your Grace.' The squire thinks with a shiver. He'd met the Prince Joffrey a lot of times, since he's supposed to follow the Crown Prince around and…well, he could say his first impression was not a good one. 'He threatened to put a sword through a serving girl just because she spilled wine on him. Talk about terrifying…'
One thing was certain. The Seven Kingdoms were very lucky Prince Robert was the King's eldest, and not Joffrey. Few minutes of silence follow, as Stannis Baratheon muses over his nephew's words.
"Very well." The Lord of Dragonstone finally replies with a sigh. Even a man as hard as Stannis couldn't say no to the stubborn Young Stag. "You'll have your ship. Give me a month or two, to hire the best carpenters and…"
"Take your time, uncle."
The Prince stands up to leave when, suddenly, the bells ring. Once, twice…they'd found enemies.
"Pirates." He heard Lord Stannis say. "And so close to the city."
"Yes, I was itching for a fight!" Robert then turns to Tyrek, with fire burning in his greenish blue eyes. "Fetch me my hammer, cousin. This is goin' to be fun!"
Not even bothering to wait for the young Lannister's answer, the recently knighted Crown Prince rushes out of the room, taking a longsword from a passing guard and rushing to the Fury's deck. A much smaller pirate galley makes itself visible through the mist of dawn. The ship is light and fast, probably meant to prey upon the slower merchant cargo ships.
Having seen the enemy poses no real danger, Tyrek then decides to go and get what his prince had requested. He rushes to the room he shares with Bella and Jenny- a fertile terrain to the Lannister's imagination- and finds the thing there, lying on the corner. 'So heavy…' the boy thinks, feeling droplets of sweat starting to form on his forehead. Usually it took all of his strength to even lift that thing few inches from the ground- the cable was too short for its enormous weight. 'How can Robert even fight with this?'
"I can help you with that, little man." A cheerful voice says, and the young squire turns around to see Prince Robert's sworn shield- Ser Arys Oakheart, of the Kingsguard. The Reachman had his beard trimmed now, instead of completely shaved off his face. "I'll take the tip, you take the cable. Come on, the Prince needs this."
With Ser Arys' aid, the boy managed to climb the stairways back into the galley's main deck in time. The Fury was closing in- very fast- to the smaller ship, and the Prince was already dressed in chainmail, with no helmet over his black hair. "There ya are, thought the battle would be over by the time you got here!" he teases with a chuckle, before lifting the war hammer up with his free hand. A single hand. "I'll be the first to board them."
"And I'll follow soon after, my Prince." Ser Arys says with a grin, unsheathing his own longsword.
The battle that follows in short…and bloody.
Always the crazed vanguard fighter, Robert's the first to jump onto the smaller ship, as soon as the corvus were fixed on its side. Like a bull fighting against a pack of dogs- a scene which Tyrek had seen once or twice in Lannisport- the Crown Prince swung his hammer like a massive club, breaking ribs and cracking heads open, slashing with his sword like an invincible hurricane.
The Myrish men in the pirate crew were smart enough to avoid him. Except for the drunk or the courageous, few dared to challenge the lightly armored Baratheon giant.
Then there is Ser Arys, gracious and skilled. Barely after landing he dodges an axe that would cut his skull open, swiftly gutting the man with his sharp longsword before going on a killing spree: the Reachman fought like the Warrior himself, dancing around the armed marauders with his sword.
Both were soon joined by Ser Davos, Lord Stannis himself and 20 more experienced sailors from the Crownlands. In a fit of mad courage, even Tyrek decided to jump into the heat of the battle- managing to finish a fat Ghiscari with his sax- a small, broad blade used in shield walls.
"Well, that was a good heat up." The Prince cheerfully says, though he winces in pain. A knife had found itself embedded to his right leg by the ship's captain, before he had his head cut off that is, and the wound is ugly and bleeding.
"Your Grace!" Tyrek rushes to his master's size, quickly tearing his tunic's sleeve to wrap around his leg. He hoped that would be enough to stop the bleeding, at least until they were back at the Red Keep. If not, then… "This wound's ugly. Let me take you to Qyburn. Please, Your Grace…"
"Hey hey, shush, Tyrek. I've received worse wounds." Robert replies with a grin. "Now, let's see what those boys had in their cargo, shall we?"
"Of course, Your Grace." Both Ser Davos and Stannis reply with nods. A good kick from Ser Arys later and the four find themselves inside the pirate captain's room. It turns out the man was a slaver from Tyrosh, if the dyed, yellow beard wasn't enough evidence- that is- and Robert hoped to see if there was anything of value in his private stash.
Turns out they found jewels, a stash of good Volantene wine, a beautiful axe, some documents in High Valyrian, and a young woman- gagged and tied to the corner of the room by a thick rope.
At first Tyrek thought Robert- being the greedy drunkard of a Prince he knew- would care more about his wine and jewels, than a poor slave to a Tyroshi pirate. 'I was wrong, I guess.' The squire thinks with a relieved sigh, as the Baratheon kneels by the woman's side, cutting the ropes easily with the sword he'd stolen from the guard. "Yo, the name's Robert, Prince Robert. We're here to help ya, I guess. Aaaaaand to get the wine. The wine's definitely important too."
The Lannister did have a hard time controlling the urge to slap himself on the face. 'Sometimes Robert acts like a bloody idiot…'
"T-Thank you, my Prince." The girl replies, with nothing more than a nod- most people would've thrown themselves at Robert's feet at this point. He could tell she was a foreigner, probably Volantene, by her accent, but how dare she?
Before any of them can say anything though, Robert winces again- this time a bit louder. 'The wound in his leg is deeper than it appears to be…'
"You're hurt…" Tyrek hears the girl whisper. He would congratulate her for having said the obvious, but she had already delicately pushed the prince to the captain's bed- forcing one of the strongest men in the Seven Kingdoms to sit down- before kneeling by his side to examine it. "I can help you, should you wish, Prince Robert."
"And why should we trust you?" Lord Stannis inquires, looking at her menacingly with his cold blue eyes.
"Because I'm a medic, I possess vast knowledge in treating and curing sicknesses and wounds." Is the girl's challenging response, her Common Tongue a bit broken- as expected for a native speaker of High Valyrian. Spirited person she is, if she dares to speak back to Lord Stannis. "Now, if you permit me, Your Grace."
"Aye, I accept your help." The Prince says with a chuckle before turning to Tyrek. "Bring me some wine Tyrek, and make sure to taste it to see if it's poisoned."
With the ship and its cargo successfully captured by the Royal Fleet, the Fury's crew was more than happy to guide their new 'addition' back to the capital's port, after getting rid of the criminals' corpses, of course. There, the small pirate galley would be either scrapped for materials- since the wood used to make them was expensive and difficult to find- or repaired and given a new home at the King's navy.
'Whatever the case, it's be put to good use. Better than with the pirates, I'm sure.' The squire thought, as he sat with his back to the wall, cleaning the blood from Robert's war hammer with a rag. Said Crown Prince was still there, sitting on the marauder captain's bed with his legs spread open- apparently trying to drink all of the man's private stash of wine as the foreigner tended to his wound. 'Now that I take a better look at her…she's rather beautiful.'
The Volantene girl is slender, noble and graceful. Her skin is slightly tanned- a common feature among the people from Essos- and she keeps her brown hair tied back into a thick braid. She wears a grey shirt under a simple white dress, and the focus she shows when tending to Robert is remarkable. Qyburn had left some materials for her to use, and quietly observed the medic's work- it was flawless.
When the Fury had finally docked at King's Landing with its captured prize, the once ugly, bleeding wound was now closed, and clean. The only sign of its existence, were the stitches of silk that kept it from reopening.
"Sweet. My leg feels fresh and ready now!" The Prince says with a whistle, putting his pants back on before turning his attention to the fold. "You're good, girl. What's your name?"
"My name is Talisa, Talisa Maegyr." The Volantene replies with a giggle. "And I do believe I'm some years older than you, my Prince. Perhaps I should call you 'boy'."
"Your abilities are remarkable, young lady." Tyrek hears Qyburn say. The old man's tone is of deep musing. "Perhaps you'd be willing to share some of your knowledge. I've never seen an Essosi medic like you…"
"Maegyr? I swear I've heard this name before…"
"And I swear I've never heard it." Robert says, already back to his usual carefree demeanor. "Say, Talisa, do you have somewhere to stay here in King's Landing?"
"I'm afraid I don't, my Prince. Why do you ask, though?"
"Ya see, I happen to be needing a healer." The Prince starts, changing his gaze to Qyburn- who stood, as always, dutifully by the door. "Ol' man Qyburn's good, but he's always doing other things for me." He then turns back to Talisa, placing his hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture. No matter how tall the Essosi girl may be, the Prince still towers over her like he does to everybody. "So what do you say? Do you want to join me, as my personal healer?"
"Let me warn you in advance that the Prince may be impulsive, drunk, and sometimes dumb as a door, sometimes too smart for his own good…" Ser Arys teases from his spot, guarding the bedroom's door. "But he's generous and funny. Besides, you'll get to live at the Red keep! A better patron in Westeros, there is not."
"I can't help but agree." The Bloody Master complements with a smile. A smile that sends shivers up Tyrek's spine. "Though you shouldn't try drinking with him, you'll probably be unconscious before he's even winded."
"Undisputable truth *sigh*..."
"So, what do ya say?" Robert turns back to Talisa, with the usual sheepish smile. "Will you be my Physician, Talisa Maegyr?"
"Well, seems like we were fated to meet, after all…" The Volantene medic replies with a playful smile. "I'll be under your care then, Robert Baratheon."
And so, another day begins in the capital city of King's Landing. And another, new companion joins the Hero Prince's fold.
Was that how that famous chapter of Adventures of a Dragon Rider ended? To be honest, Tyrek just couldn't remember it…
Chapter end.
A/N: Hey, enjoyed this chapter? Don't forget to Fav/Follow/Review, or you're becoming the new King Robert- thrice cucked. And yes, that's a hex.
NEXT DEADLINE: 27/04/2019.
Listening to: Think-KALEIDA.
Doing: Cleaning my apartment, listening to Jazz.
Status: I think I've grown some centimeters taller…
Papa Wildfurion's out.
Wildfurion