Balon

The Lord of the Iron Islands smiled while roaming the docks of Pyke. Everything is almost ready.

The Iron Fleet is nearly whole again. This time, Balon would wait for the right time to strike, when the Greenlanders are distracted. The Fall is clearly a good auspice, or so Damphair says. It was truly a marvellous event.

Balon was considering between raiding the North or the Westerlands when the time came. He will probably pick the least defended of the two. The North would satisfy his lust for revenge against the cursed stag, slaying his pet wolf would surely hurt him. Despite this, the Westerlands were an attractive pick. The gold of Casterly Rock could make House Greyjoy rich, and burning the Lannister fleet a second time would be satisfying.

Victarion had decided to call for a Great Reaving, and summoned every able man to join him. Balon had given him his blessing: his brother would bring glory to the Ironborn, raiding everywhere in the known world.

Victarion pillaged the coast of Pentos and the Sisters. Now he is probably heading towards Faros, the land of the cattle fuckers. Balon could already imagine the riches of this reaving, he would be able to build the greatest fleet ever seen.

As he climbed the stairs to his castle, the captain of his house guard Merrion called for his attention. "My Lord, a raven from Orkmont. Many have disappeared in the vicinity of the Iron Woods, and Lord Orkwood calls for your aid. All the patrols sent to discover the danger have met the same fate."

Balon raised an eyebrow, "This is most strange... Perhaps some rogue reavers are creating trouble. Reply to Lord Alyn, you shall depart with my daughter Asha to solve the problem. It is time she sees real action."

"I will relay your orders, my Lord." Merrion saluted and left. Balon finished climbing the set of stairs and entered the Lord's Tower.

He sat near his desk and started reviewing some missives that arrived tonight. The Farwynds are again trying their luck in finding lands in the West, claiming the existence of a continent where Winter holds no sway and everyone could rule as Kings. What a fool, the only landmasses found West were three barren islands. Gylbert is known for being not sane of mind. Perhaps, this time he would get lost somewhere beyond the Great Falls.

The other raven brought news Balon didn't expect. King Robert has welcomed a Stormsinger in his court, and if the rumours are authentic, he is straying away from the Seven. Heresy! The Drowned God shall smite these unbelievers!

The Storm God was the natural enemy of the Drowned God: since the times of the Grey King, they have clashed for the control of the seas. Balon would not remain subject to a heretic King, his predecessors would be ashamed of him.

He will move against the Stag at the first sign of weakness. This time they will prevail.

Robert

Robert gulped his tankard of ale. Gods, if it weren't for the Swayne boy, he would be dead.

The Northman was now eating at the lower tables. Apparently, he had found some company with the Hound. He never thought the ungrateful bastard would actually find someone to drink with. These are truly extraordinary times, Robert bemused.

He was thinking of nominating him as a Kingsguard, if Barristan or someone else suddenly kicks the bucket. He served his King well, it wouldn't be unusual to consider him a worthy candidate. The boy was skilled too with that mace of his.

Speaking of Kingsguards, the Kingslayer was pissed. It was quite satisfying seeing his typically smug visage contorted in rage as he entered the dining room during the feast. He then started rambling against his nemesis.

"COME HERE, YOU CUNT! I'LL GUT YOU, COWARD!" He shouted. Jaymar stared at him, keeping a neutral face, "Nah. Go bother someone else."

The room started giggling, and the blond cunt insisted, "What's the problem? Did you piss your breeches?"

The boy grinned a sarcastic smile, "Nay, but I must say everyone did while laughing at you. I believe "the Sleeper" is a more fitting nickname than Kingslayer."

HAH! Gods, this one has balls of steel.

Now the whole room was laughing, and the Sleeper fumed even more. The Queen Bitch then approached him and whispered something. Afterwards, they left the dining hall. Well, this is undoubtedly better for Robert. At least he would not have to endure dining with his wife.

They drank merrily till the hour of the wolf. Robert retired to his chambers, but sleep wouldn't bless him. There were too many thoughts passing through his mind.

Why did the rusty knight attempt to kill me? Why my son and heir is a cruel coward? Why couldn't I have someone like Gendry instead?

He recalled the lad. He was tall and robust. He sported black jet hair and had eyes blue as the sky. Little Mya was just like that, too. He still remembered the strength she held his fingers with her baby hands.

Why was Joffrey different? Why...

Wait

His bastards had all his features, his brothers too. Little Shireen was black of hair, Svemir too. His legitimate did not. Robert felt a tinge of dread.

Am I a cuckold?

Rage started brewing inside him. The bitch was bedded by another man, and she's passing her bastards as his trueborn!?

"DAMN HER! DAMN HER TO THE DEEPEST PITS OF THE SEVEN HELLS!"

Robert picked up a chair and smashed it to the ground.

Ser Barristan and Oakheart entered his chambers with swords drawn, "Your Grace! What happened?"

"There's a treasonous WHORE in my halls." Robert answered while picking up Thunderbolt. He left his chambers with the Kingsguard in tow, stomping towards the Lannister whore's room.

They were in front of the door. For some reason, Blount was not guarding it. "I'll have his head too." Robert grumbled.

He raised the war pick and brought it down to the door, sprawling it open. As he entered the chambers, he heard a scream.

She was with the Kingslayer. In the bed.

"YOU BROTHERFUCKING WHORE!"

Robert approached them and grabbed the Kingslayer by his loose shirt. He couldn't react fast enough due to his shock, so Robert tossed him against the wall. Barristan stared blankly, and Arys moved to restrain the Queen.

Robert started punching the Kingslayer in the face. Despite his attempts to defend himself, Robert's rage was too overwhelming. Jaime Lannister was knocked out a second time in two days, his face a bloody ruin.

The whore was a stammering mess, "I-I... Sorry... Sorry... I didn't mean..."

"MEAN WHAT? WHORE YOUR WAY IN THE SUCCESSION? ARE YOU SO DULL TO THINK IT WOULDN'T BACKFIRE?" Robert shouted, "ALL OF MY TRUE CHILDREN ARE BASTARDS! AND YOURS ARE NO BETTER!"

Robert turned towards Arys, "Bring the whore to the black cells. Close her in the deepest one, I don't care if her tits fall off for the cold." The knight nodded and dragged the queen out.

Barristan approached the white armour laid near the bed, tore the white cloak and tossed it inside the fireplace. "Murdering his first King, betraying the second by fucking his own sister... Triple the oathbreaker I thought he was." He sighed, "He won't need this anymore. Dead men need no cloaks."

"Nay," Robert said, "The Wall awaits him. I cannot risk angering Tywin too much. I am a generous man, after all."

He turned to Barristan, "We need to secure the keep. Assemble some Baratheon guards, and disarm any Lannister soldier lurking around. If you find out where that cunt of Blount is, kick his ass inside a cell too. After all of this, pass by Tobho Mott and bring my boy here. He will need to be protected."

The legendary knight nodded and left to carry on Robert's orders.

Robert sat on the bed, and wept.