Chapter Five

The Fifth King

Author's Note: My lack of updates on this is due to the fact that I moved this story to wattpad, where you can vote for it in the Watty Awards: wattpad (dot)com /story/1342048-kuroshidrago-the-karrucci-affairs-kuroshitsuji


The room was damp from humidity

It was a chamber Cersei had saved for herself,

Built in secrecy before Joffrey's birth

She grew tired of Robert many years ago

So this chamber was her special room

You win or you die…

She pulled the chain, lowering her present

It struggled, wriggled its hands

Alois asked for this

Always being flirtatious with danger

He never expected to end in Cersei's care,

As her personal bedwarmer

In a game of thrones…

you win or you die.

"Everything I've ever wanted is gone," she said to him.

"Do you know how that feels, Alois?"

The way she spoke was like butter and toast

It fit her demeanor

"Last night, your flirtatious actions embarrassed us all."

Alois remained silent

He didn't regret flirting with Littlefinger

Alois chuckled, "Petyr was asking for it, the way his hands skimmed my leg."

"Ughhh," a stinging slap took Alois out of his dazed state, "you have no sense, you shouldn't be a prince!" Cersei's anger was at a boiling point. She never acted this way, but she could not hold her resolve with such an insolent little boy.

"You will stay here until you clean yourself up," she lowered her tone, grasping his little childish face, "Alois, I do not wish to do this, nor do I mean to harm you, but as a Lannister you must learn to be regal. We do not flirt with our enemies, we befriend them until the right moment. I don't know what they did to you and Joffrey in Pixie village, but I assure you, they will suffer."

She kissed his warm forehead before leaving him for the night. Alois always felt she favored Joffrey over him, but now things are becoming less clear. He does not know what to think. Was he really his uncle's son? The people in Pixie Village told him that before they tried to burn him at the stake.

The egg had no soft shell. It felt like stone in his pale hands. Its surface was made of bumpy patterned scales, and when he turned the egg, flecks of purple glittered in the heat of the flames. Alois could feel life inside the stone, and he knew they were once soft but hardened by years of being alone in darkness. The egg itself was purer than a spider's web. Four of these dragon eggs had been blessed upon the world: to Narcissus Cartwright, to Ashuton Karrucci, to Ciel Phantomhive and finally to him, Alois Lannister. He felt bound to this egg, like as if it contained his soul in the form of a curled dragon.

"What are you doing?" asked Joffrey.

He watched in maddening horror as Alois lowered the rock into the pot of flames. The egg seemed to emit a gust of wind, which blew heat into Alois's face. His blonde hair blew in the wind, and bits of it turned black and white. The egg did nothing after that display. The life inside did not wiggle or move. Petrified, forever bound to it's distilled state of swirling purple scales.

"It won't hatch," said Alois, "why won't it hatch?"

"It's a stone!" Joffrey complained, "you've been bothering with it all night. Go to sleep." He turned over, paying no mind to his brother.

Alois could not simply "go to sleep."

He reached into the depths of the pot, grasping the black egg. The fires inside did not burn or tear away at his skin. In fact, the flames seemed to embrace it. Joffrey turned, wondering what his brother could be doing, and he shouted, "Alois! Get your hands out of there!"

He snatched the egg away but it slipped from his hands as he involuntarily drew away. The egg was hotter than a pot full of grits. Joffry grabbed his brother's hands and saw no trace of any burning, and yet his hands had burn marks.

"How could that not burn you?" he asked.

Alois looked away shyly, "I…I don't know."

It all seemed like a distant memory. Alois wanted to hold his egg again, to feel the life inside. Was the egg a demon like Sebastian? Could the dragon inside it be his claim to his father's throne?

Robert wanted to visit Winterfell again. It was a wondrous close-knit community in the Irishlands, home to the most brutal winters and gorgeous summers. Winterfell was know for it's Snowlamp, a tall tower that would light the sky when heavy snowfall came pouring down. Flames of red, blue and yellow would dance atop the tower in the dawn of night. Yet there was something else in Winterfell that Robert loved.

Lyna.

Lyanna.

He would never forget the dead maiden's name.

Lynna Stark.

He could remember how he earned his seat upon the throne. Watching as Charlie Karrucci bled to death, defeating the dragon with his warhammer. He felt it still wasn't enough. The boy needed to die a tortured death for what he did to Lyanna. In those days, **Robert was a warrior with a cause. He was clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a female's dream man. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over the lesser ones, and when he donned his armor, he was the emblem of his House**, he became a formidable relished in the smell of leather and blood, which clung to him like a scented normality. Today, in present time, he's nearly lost himself. His hair and beard had grown to uncontrolled lengths, his muscular physique was replaced with fat mass.

He saw a flash of long blonde hair, it seemed so familiar. Cersei was sitting before him, and it took him a long time before he knew it.

"What is it?" asked Robert.

Cersei withdrew a blue piece of paper from her purple gown, "We got a letter from the Phantomhives. They sent it via raven. It looks urgent."


** That LINE, Yes, I borrowed that line from the actual Game of Thrones book.

+-+Cersei seems to be a bit crazy here. Do you think Alois is really her son? Of course he is! You know how crazy the Lannisters are.