Chapter 5. The Execution

That same night, Sansa chose to share her bed with her new good friend, Myrcella. Ever since Robert gave them permission to see each other the two had become inseparable. With their personalities and hobbies almost matching, friendships easily arose.

"I'll be so lonely here without you," Myrcella said, her voice soft as she lay beside Sansa on the grand bed. Both girls gazed up at the dark ceiling, the silence heavy between them. "This has been the most joy I've ever known in this place."

Sansa wiped the smile off her face. With Robb and Catelyn finally there, she felt at ease. Knowing she'd be returning home soon had never felt so exciting. "You can visit me sometime, Myrcella."

"I fear I can't, Sansa. I'm no longer a princess… merely a bastard, and even more grievous, a bastard born of… incest." Myrcella's voice trembled, her throat constricting with the weight of her words. "I don't know what will happen to me."

"But King Robert is so kind," Sansa exclaimed. "He's so nice to me."

"I know that. He has always been kind to me and Tommen. He even promised that I could remain here like a princess for as long as I wished. Yet… The guards, the maids, they cast glances and murmur among themselves… I feel lonely."

At that, Sansa turned towards Myrcella. "Are you sad about the execution tomorrow?"

Myrcella didn't deny nor agree. "I don't know about that. I know what Mother did was wrong, and her punishment is justified. She always pampered Joffrey the most… but she's my Mother."

Sansa shifted closer and hugged Myrcella. That was all she knew about calming someone. "I'm sorry for all this."

"Sansa, can't you stay with me?" Myrcella asked all of a sudden, gazing at her friend's face up close.

Sansa's head shook on its own. After all that trauma? No, never. "What would I do here? Joffrey is going to be executed tomorrow. My home is in Winterfell, Myrcella."

"You should be the new queen! Oh, yes!" Myrcella declared with sudden enthusiasm, rising from the bed. "Indeed, it's quite possible! Father often spoke of Lyanna, and he must see some resemblance to her in you. You should marry him and become the queen, and then we can both stay here together!"

Queen? Married? To Robert Baratheon? What?! Sansa had no place left on her forehead to raise her brows anymore. She looked at her friend with pity. Has she lost her mind?

"W-What are you saying?"

"Indeed! Father no longer has a rightful heir to the throne, nor does he have a wife. I'm certain he will seek a new one, and that could very well be you, Sansa! You could become the queen and the mother of the future King!" Myrcella insisted, excitement in her voice. "He'll treat you right, Sansa. You're his best friend's daughter!"

"B-But… He's so much older and… big," Sansa timidly mumbled. "I don't think he'd want me."

"Look at you! You're beautiful, Sansa. I'm sure he'd bed you as soon as you exchanged the vows. Just think abou…" Myrcella suddenly stopped, noticing Sansa's doubtful look. She sat down quickly, realizing her misconduct. "I'm sorry, I got too excited."

Yet, Sansa didn't say anything.

The idea had taken root already, and the possibilities were natural to emerge. What ifs and hopes of the future combined gave birth to a desire to give meaning to life.

"No, it's okay. Let's sleep." She dismissed the idea soon enough and turned away from Myrcella. Yet her eyes remained steady open. Gazing at nothing but darkness, while the thoughts in the mind were full of colors.

Queen Sansa Baratheon. She pronounced to herself and smiled. It feels… powerful.

Meanwhile, Robert had no clue what ideas his one 'daughter' had planted in his other 'daughter'. A thought so dark and taboo to him that even being alive would feel like god's punishment. But for now, there was peace in ignorance.

Already, his heart was beating like a racehorse, standing alone with Catelyn Stark at the Sept of Baelor where Eddard Stark's decaying body was placed inside a decorated coffin. Ready to be taken to the North.

The most beloved woman of his life had sought an audience herself. Robb Stark was nowhere to be found, and he couldn't decide if that was a curse or a blessing. Her voice, her face, her whole being he wanted to embrace and tell her who he truly was. Tell her that House Stark still stands strong.

"Thank you for visiting at such a short notice, Your Grace." Catelyn faced the mighty King, her blue eyes already dry after shedding countless tears. "Firstly, I'm grateful for your safe return. The Lannisters have harmed both our houses beyond repair."

No, Cat. Nothing has changed, I'm still here. Robert kept his lips pressed tight, afraid the words would spill out. You're not alone, Cat.

"And they shall pay for their sins on the morrow," he reassured her, his feet taking a step closer on their own. "Forgive me, Ca-Lady Stark. I shouldn't have named him my Hand. A wolf in the south… What was I thinking? The Hour of the Wolf was but a tale of old, and yet I foolishly sought to relive it."

Those were the words mixed with memories of Robert and emotions of Eddard. There was regret, a lot of it. Coming to the South was a grave mistake and he had ignored the signs at every turn.

Catelyn's fist clenched tight, unable to look at Robert's face. "It was his decision, Your Grace. As unjust as his execution was, I'm grateful that he can rest in peace now. The North is safe, and so is Sansa."

"And Arya?" Robert asked.

"Robb received a raven. Jon Snow found Arya on his way here."

So everyone is safe. Robert took a silent sigh of relief. The war is over. Cersei's vile reign comes to an end.

"That is reassuring to hear, Lady Stark," Robert said, and without realizing it, stepped forward and hugged Catelyn. Both his firm arms circled her shoulders and pulled her in. "What is lost, alas, may never return. But bear this in mind; you're never alone. House Stark stands strong and will continue to do so."

Taken aback by Robert's embrace, Catelyn uncomfortably wriggled her body. But she felt genuine concern and care from him, and over the years had seen him as a close family friend. So she reciprocated and in a reserved fashion, hugged him back. "Thank you for your concern, Your Grace."

However, Robert's hands moved all of a sudden. From her back behind the shoulders to the small of her back, and then curving against the rising flesh of her bottom. He kept going, too fast for any of them to react.

"Your Grace…" Catelyn jolted and stepped away.

Seven hells! Robert woke up to his senses and retreated quickly. Why did I do that?

"I… I shall return to the Red Keep, Lady Stark." Robert retreated quickly, glancing at his own coffin one last time.

Disappointed in himself, Robert left the Sept of Baelor and returned to the Red Keep. But instead of going up, he headed to the Black Cells with Ser Barristan alongside him. It was time to prepare for the execution.

Clack!

The heavy, metal door was unlocked with the key only Ser Barristan had, and they both walked in with a torch in hand. The clanks of chains became audible from inside, and the stench of piss and filth was overwhelming.

"Still alive?" Robert raised the torch forward and glowed some light on the weak, kneeling Cersei Lannister. Naked as the day she was born, covered in dirt, her golden hair now a filthy mess. Her green eyes no longer held the pride or the confidence she once had. Total surrender and fear were all she knew. "Not for long."

"R-Robert!" Cersei groveled weakly and tried to crawl closer to Robert's feet. "Please… F-Forgive me, I beg you. I… I'm willing to do anything you want!"

Robert sneered and pulled back his feet so her dirty hands wouldn't sully him. Even when he tried to, he couldn't bring himself to pity the woman. Not after all that she had done. Her fantastical famous tits held no magic for him, nor her exposed cunt that only ever spawned bastards.

"I'll be your whore! I-I'll do anything you want, Robert!" She tried to get on her knees, leading her shivering hand towards his groin. She succeeded in doing so and frantically rubbed it. "I'll be your whore for life!"

Thud!

Robert shoved her away by his knee without hurting her. Her touch didn't even make him feel warm. No matter how renowned of a beauty, the mere sight of her face boiled his blood. Oh how he wanted to bash her head right there and then and end it, but he controlled himself.

"Do you think I need your permission to make you a whore? By the gods, if I choose so, I could have you standing at the gates of a brothel, pleasuring every man who comes along for their gold!" Robert roared, leaning in so close his breath was hot against her face. His hand clutched her golden blonde hair, yanking her head back with a brutal grip. "Your cunt has only ever bred filth as foul as the venomous words you spew from that mouth. You're worthless, Cersei! Your prized cunt is worth nothing! Come the morrow, you'll face execution, alongside Joffrey and Jaime."

Horror in her eyes, Cersei pleaded, real tears streaming down her eyes. "No! No, please! Robert, please listen to me! I-I really loved you! I tried to love you so muc—"

"I see through your phony tears, Cersei," he roared. "Love, you say? Ha! You've been bedding Jaime since you were four and ten, and you've never been faithful to anyone—least of all to me or to Rhaegar, had he lived. You fancied yourself a queen who could bend the world to her will with her cunt, but in the end, you're nothing but a whore. A whore who never even earned a penny for her troubles."

Robert brought his face closer to her at that, letting her hear every word rumbling out of him. At that moment, he couldn't stop remembering the words he had exchanged with Cersei that time in that garden. When he offered her a safe passage out of King's Landing. "Did you forget? When you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die. There's no middle ground."

At those words, Cersei dumbfoundedly blinked. That was what she had said to Eddard Stark. She felt her heart skip a few beats at the plausible realization that Robert had always known everything. That he had ears on every inch of the Red Keep.

"My children! They're innocent, Robert! Myrcella and Tommen had no part in this."

Robert left her on the floor and stood back up, wiping his palms on his cloak. "Myrcella will join the Silent Sisters and Tommen will take the Black."

"No! No, no! They're innocent! Tommen is soft, Robert! He won't survive there!" Cersei cried her eyes out. Was that truly her love or just a sham? It was hard to tell.

But Robert didn't bother and turned around. "I know."

Thud!

The thick, metal door was sealed shut once again, leaving Cersei crying in utter darkness.

Robert let out a deep sigh and looked at Ser Barristan. "Did you bring the ax?"

"I have, Your Grace." Ser Barristan handed him the hand-held ax made of fine steel, sharp as a sword. "Your Grace, about Myrce—"

"A trifling gift to add to her and Jaime's misery. Do not worry, Ser Barristan, I won't treat those two wrong. They belong to me, not by blood, but by the bonds of memory," Robert clarified and started walking. "Lead me to Jaime now."

"This way."

Just a few steps forward, they soon reached Jaime's Black Cell. Once again, Ser Barriston opened the metal door with the key and led the way in personally, as Jaime posed a bigger threat. The famed Kingslayer was chained more than Cersei. Both his hands, ankles and even his neck had a metal chain attached.

From there, Robert took charge and looked at Jaime. The man was a captive of the Starks before, so he was already in a bad state. Almost all of his muscles had diminished due to a lack of food and water. His hair and beard had grown, while his complexion had paled.

"Is… Is it time?" Jaime mumbled weakly.

"Still a night left," Robert replied, placing the torch in the frame on the wall. "I supposed you'd appreciate some human contact before you're executed."

"Uh… My Father will have your head on a pike before your sword ever touches me," Jaime said with a smirk of confidence. "You've no reason to keep me here."

"Are you sure about that, Kingslayer? I believe high treason is enough to have you locked and executed."

"What treason?"

"Such as bedding the queen and siring three bastards," Robert glared, leaving no chance of any doubt for Jaime. "Deceiving your own King, betraying the realm, and turning the Faith into a jest. These are the charges that weigh upon you, Kingslayer."

"You have no proof! My Father will never believe a word from your mouth!"

"But he already has, Kingslayer," Robert sneered, his voice thick with disdain. "And not to forget, your pretty little sister, that treacherous wench, dared to defy the King's will. She tried to take my life, and in her wickedness, she disobeyed the command to make Ned the Regent. She murdered Ned… my old friend."

The more Robert spoke, the more Jaime lost his ground. The King had no doubt in his tone.

"Now, you shall watch Joffrey die. Then you shall watch your whorish sister die. As for you, Tywin has bartered many a favor to keep you breathing, but the price is still due. Ser Barristan." Robert thrust the ax into view. Ser Barristan stepped forward, gripping Jaime's sword hand with unyielding resolve. "Myrcella will find her place among the Silent Sisters, and Tommen… he'll embrace the Night's Watch."

Silent, it took some time for Jaime to realize what they were doing. He could feel his heart in his mouth and tried to pull away his hand. "N-Nooo… No! Robert, Father will—"

"Haha, Tywin knows well, Kingslayer. This is all part of the bargain!" Robert revealed, knocking the Kingslayer into a daze with his word. With no warning, he stepped forward, crouched down, and started to aim at the wrist. "Tywin cares not for your hand or your legs, only for your bloody balls! His only concern is his bloodline, and for that, he'll let me take whatever I please. Hold him tight and don't let go!"

"N-n-noooo! No, no! Please do—"

Woosh!

"Aaaaaargh!"

"This is for Bran."

A quick, heavy swing down on the wrist. It wasn't very neat but it did the job. Blood gushed out to no end, the severed hand already lying a foot away. The Kingslayer screamed non-stop, certainly his cries audible to Cersei.

"Barristan, bring the healers. We don't want him dying now." Robert ordered and pressed onto the wound with a piece of cloth to stop the blood. But as soon as Ser Barristan left, he went on with his grander plan.

Like hell, he'd so easily let Tywin have Jaime. The entire Lannister house was responsible for the mess, not just a few members. "Look at you now. You'll just be a manwhore from now. Living to sow your seed as per your father's desire. All the while your lover lays dead along with your son, another son sitting among the vilest of scums at the Wall. Poor Tommen, they do quite many vile things to soft boys like him. May the Seven have mercy on him."

Robert tied the cloth around his arm finally and stood back up.

Jaime was in no condition to fight him or even say anything, but he knew his words would be heard. "Think of your incestborn son and daughter, Jaime. When you sit to feast, let Myrcella's memory haunt your every bite, her silent form forever shrouded, tending to the dead. When you sip wine, let it choke you, thinking about Tommen and the unspeakable things that other drinking men might be doing to him at Castle Black. May you rot in your own misery for the rest of your days!"

At last, the heavy door opened and Barristan returned with the healers. They came prepared with a bucket full of burning coal, and a flat piece of iron simmering hot in it.

"I'm done here, Ser Barristan." Robert chose to return. "I'll be making my way back. You stay here, and see to it that the door is locked."

"Understood, Your Grace."

It felt like a long night, and Robert refused to go to sleep. The fear that someone might help the prisoners escape ran high. The entire Red Keep was in a lockdown that night.

To spend the night, he chose to retreat to his solar and read some books there. Mainly Little Finger's ledger to make some sense out of it. By now he knew the game that Little Finger was playing. Stealing from the realm while 'helping' the Crown whenever the King needed money. Since only Little Finger knew where the money came from, no one ever doubted him, and only ever spoke his name when money was required.

Thanks to Tywin, the debt will soon be taken care of. He relaxed in the chair and closed the ledger. But where will the Crown earn more money from?

Knock! Knock!

Stannis walked into the solar just then, and behind him was the ethereal beauty from Essos, taller than most knights, slender and graceful than most highborn women. But her deep burnished copper hair and red eyes never ceased to unsettle Robert. As if those eyes saw more than the realm of the living.

"It's Renly, I presume?" Robert asked as he watched his brother take a seat, and the Red Priestess took the one beside him. Are they married?

"He refuses!" Stannis angrily slammed a folded parchment on the table. "This time in his own words, Your Grace. He accuses you of being an imposter and demands to hold you accountable with his King's Justice. House Tyrell lends him its support, though they are cautious to declare it openly."

Why, Renly? Why?

Robert sighed and looked at the parchment. "In days past, I might've spared him and sent him to the Wall. But now, he demands execution. Don't let Renly occupy your mind, Stannis. After tomorrow's execution, House Tyrell will discard Renly on their own. They have stood once on the losing side during the Rebellion. I doubt they'll risk such folly again."

Stannis nodded sternly and continued. "Tywin has handed over the Mountain to us. He now sits in the Black Cells."

"Let him rot and weaken in his chains. When he's but a shadow of his former self, I'll drag him to Dorne myself," Robert declared. "Anything else?"

"The exiled Targaryen girl now possesses dragons, or so the rumors claim. Three dragons," Stannis declared, his voice betraying a hint of disdain. "Her Dothraki barbarian husband lies dead."

Targaryens. Yet another soft spot for him. Deep in his heart, he could feel the internal hatred for the Targaryen bloodline. But at the same time, knowing Jon Snow and Lyanna's truth, there was keen interest.

"They're real," Melisandre spoke all of a sudden. Her voice was deep, melodic, and somehow magical enough to tickle minds. "The Red Comet marked the return of dragons and magic to Westeros."

Robert stared at the Red Witch and said nothing. His first instinct was to refute her claim. But he accepted her words, having realized that his resurrection occurred near the same time the Red Comet was seen in the sky. Was all of it connected? He didn't know. Was it magical? It had to be.

"Stannis, don't do anything to her. But do keep an eye out for any new information," Robert ordered.

Quickly after, the stern Lord of Dragonstone got up to leave. Yet, seeing Melisandre still seated, he paused.

"My Lord, may I have a word with the King?" Melisandre asked, giving Stannis a calm look. Somehow her eyes seemed to have conveyed a message.

"Very well." Stannis left.

Robert straightened his back, aware of Melisandre's magical fame. Since she followed the same god as Thoros of Myr, he had no doubt there was a connection between his resurrection and R'hllor.

"I beseech you to seek peace with the Targaryens," she asked, taking Robert by surprise. "To challenge dragons is to court your own destruction."

Thud!

Robert roared, his anger shaking the very walls of the chamber. His massive fist struck the table with the force of a thunderclap, causing the ledger and tools to rattle. He arose from his seat, his eyes blazing with fury. Striding around the table with a wrathful determination, he seized Melisandre by her slender neck, lifting her from her seat as if she were but a weightless doll. "How dare you suggest I seek peace with the scum who stole Lyanna from me? How dare you stand here and lecture me on what must be done!"

Bam!

Robert pushed her back against the large bookcase. He pressed onto her entire body, angered further by her unwavering red eyes glaring at his own blue ones. Uncaring of her modesty, he crushed her full breasts by the weight of his belly, towering over her. "I'll have y—"

"Ruse," she murmured, her voice as insubstantial as the smoke of her fires, undisturbed by the weight that pressed upon her. "You need not cloak yourself from me, Your Grace. The flame of R'hllor has already touched your soul with its divine mark."

"Ramblings!" Robert bellowed at her heart-shaped face. "Targaryens are gone, Witch."

"But their blood remains," she responded. Despite being locked in that spot, she moved her arms and softly reached for his face. Her delicate, long, warm fingers traced his beard, and then his skin. "You are destined for greatness, Your Grace."

"I…" Robert's brows creased together adeptly, sensing a cloud in his thoughts. Looking down at Melisandre, her face suddenly looked as if shining with warmth and light. The only thing in his field of view.

His eyes drifted further, noting the sleeveless expanse of her flowing, red robe, the neckline open and inviting. Her warmth, renewed and irresistible, beckoned like a beacon in the darkness.

Melisandre's fingers continued to circle all over his face, her lips continuously spewing words. "Wed the Mother of Dragons, Your Grace. Seize one of her mighty beasts, for you carry the blood of the Targaryen, no matter how faint. Claim your destiny, for that is the right of a King!"

"Ugh…" Robert let out a senseless grunt, and his blue eyes turned hazy. His palm still on her neck weakened, and instantly landed below, tracing her collarbone, then feeling her skin leading to her covered full breasts. "My destiny?"

"For it is yours to claim," she added.

Robert breathed out heavily and felt her narrow waist with the other hand. Inviting and warm, there was magic in every single touch. Like a force of attraction demanding him to have her, consume her in ways only a husband does his wife.

"In Dragons lies your destiny," she murmured more, landing her hand on his neck all of a sudden while also rising on her toes. Her red, burning hot, scentful lips inched closer to him. "In Wolves lies your legacy."

Robert willingly lowered his face and met with hers. Despite his lips staying unresponsive, Melisandre did everything. Her thin, burning red lips suckled his breath out and invaded his mouth with her slithering tongue. Sweeping the warmth out of the King, she tasted the man the realm once feared. The man the realm would once again fear.

I… What am I doi… Doing..

Eyes closed, Robert found himself lost in a strange pleasure that went beyond mere sexuality. As if covered in warmth from all sides, an embrace of a lover. His loins warmed up and stood erect, yet there was control.

A desire to feel the body against his own arose from primordial depth. His hands moved up and pulled down her dress from the shoulders. As soon as her full, naked breasts were released, he claimed them in both palms and kneaded them. Silken beyond anything, unblemished as if made of fine porcelain.

"Ummmh…" Melisandre moaned a little, a spell that left the King intoxicated and pressing her tall, slender frame harder against the bookcase. Her lips never left the King's, the kiss had turned mutual as the King's tongue invaded her inviting maw.

However, Robert wanted more and his lips moved. Leaving hers, his wet kisses brushed against her chin, then her neck below. He arched his back and continued to go down until his face reached one of her cloud-like warm breasts.

"King's desire is the realm's duty…Ah!" Melisandre caressed Robert's hair and pulled his lips to her cheery-like red nipple, inviting him to suckle. His tongue felt warm, hotter than anything ever before. The spit of a man blessed by the flames of R'hllor. Her chin turned upward in reaction, her knees going weak as the moistness between her thighs increased.

"Mmmmh!"

Her pleasure peaked when the King parted the slit in her long gown, shoving one hand in and reaching for her heated core. Her small clothes stood no chance against his strong hands as he easily pushed them down.

Warm, burning beyond belief. Melisandre danced against his touch. One breast after another suckled and teethed, her sopping cunt invaded by one of his curved, thick, battle-tempered fingers.

"Ooooh!" She lost breath from her lungs and arched back in shock. Never before had she found herself this aroused.

Meanwhile, Robert's actions were mindless. His eyes remained shut during the whole exchange. His loins twitched in primal need of entering her warm cunt, but a deeper voice in his head battled to stop him.

His lips locked on her heavenly breasts refused to retreat. His finger in her depth fucked her, moving in and out on its own.

No! I don't want this!

The inner voice fought nonstop to take back control of the body and push the sexual desire to the back of his mind. Yet, Melisandre's naked flesh felt too addicting.

"Unmmmh… Hm…" Robert senselessly mumbled, his spit dripping down from her breasts by then.

The Red Priestess arched back intensely that instant and tightened herself around his finger. Her vocal gasps paced faster as his finger dipped even deeper.

"Ooooh… B-Blessed R'hllor! I-aaah thank you for this… gift!" Melisandre's eyes rolled up, mouth wide open. Her hips thrusted onto his finger and before she knew it, she climaxed with a furious release of her feminine essence.

"Ummmh… Th-this is right! T-Take me, Your Grace! Take me!"

Once she finished her climax, her hand reached for Robert's erection and tried to take his manhood out.

No! This mustn't happen!

Robert struggled inside. Why was this happening? Why was he not in control of himself? The confusion peaked in his mind.

"Claim me, Your Grace!"

"No!" Robert abruptly grunted. His lips locked on her pebble-like nipple eased back. But then his lips returned to her chest, kissing its way up towards her neck. "Noooo!"

My vision! Robert suddenly realized that his eyes were closed. It felt like a struggle to open them, but he forced himself. By then, he had reached her neck, and from the smallest of gaps in his eyelids, he noticed Melisandre's necklace, the gem on it was shining bright for some reason.

Woosh!

As if a wave of magic swept the room, Robert's eyes shot up wide.

Thud!

He stumbled back without warning and fell back on his table. In pure horror, confusion, and anger, he glared at Melisandre's semi-naked form. Her dripping cunt had sullied her legs, while her tits glistened with his spit. Her face flustered, eyes scared, told him enough.

"What did you do to me, Witch?!"

"N-Nothing…" Melisandre replied and covered herself. "I… I didn't do anything, Your Grace."

"Leave! Leave and never appear before me!" Robert bellowed, panting. He looked away from Melisandre and rushed to pour a glass of water for himself. "T-This… Is this how you took Stannis?!"

"It's not me, but the will of R'hllor, Your Grace."

"Just leave," Robert ordered, a little calmer now. "Speak of this to none!"

Soon enough, the sound of the door opening and closing reverberated.

Robert heaved a sigh of relief and drank another glass of water. His panting breaths slowly returned to normal, but the erection refused to calm down.

So much lust. He tried to make sense of what just happened. Why couldn't I stop myself? Did she do this? Or…

He didn't want to think about it but remembering Robert's sexual appetite and habits, he had to.

"Kill them!"

"Traitors!"

"Hang them!"

"Behead them!"

"Traitors!"

"Traitors!"

As the next day arrived, a major crowd gathered in front of the stairs of the Sept of Baelor. Thousands upon thousands of King's Landing's smallfolk yelled curses at the prisoners to be executed. Perhaps it was pleasing to the crowd to see a woman of a Queen's stature being executed. To see who they called King until not long ago being executed.

The security was tight, and many famed knights and lords were present. The stone block was put in place, and the High Septon had arrived to offer his prayers. A little to the side, Robert stood, crown on his head. Beside him were Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Tyrion, and Tywin Lannister.

As for the prisoners, they were soon escorted above the stairs, all of them chained at their wrists. Lancel, Cersei, and Jaime looked lifeless, while Joffrey was still full of life, now frightened like a cornered dog.

Thud!

Only three of them were made to kneel as Lancel remained on his feet. Defeated, beaten, and scared, he looked at the crowd and started to confess to his sins.

"I, Ser Lancel Lannister, son of Kevan Lannister." Lancel shivered and gulped. "I have sins to confess before gods and men. I-I betrayed the King and committed treason against the realm! I… I slept with Queen Cersei Lannister on many occasions and made love to her. A-At her command, I spiked the King's wine during his boar hunt that mortally wounded him… I helped Queen Cersei claim the throne for her son, Joffrey Waters! I helped Queen Cersei plot against Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, and have him named traitor!"

The silence grew heavier and heavier the more Lancel confessed. However, the greater sin was yet to be proclaimed.

With Lancel's confession done, he was made to kneel back. Jaime stood up next, battered, scared, enraged, and ashamed. He sneered at the smallfolk, watching him like an entertaining spectacle.

But Jaime had made a deal with Robert already. In sorrow, he glanced at the shocked faces of Cersei and Joffrey first and then glanced in the direction of the Red Keep. This was a choice he had already made.

"I, Jaime Lannister, Kingsguard," he declared with a proud puff of his chest, "have transgressed against the King, his blood, the Crown, the realm, and the Faith! I have sinned to hold dear that which I shared the womb with. I have loved my sister, Cersei Lannister, from my youth and still do to this day! Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are not the children of King Robert, but of me and my sister!"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as some jaws dropped in disbelief, while others merely nodded in grim confirmation. The whispers of King's Landing had long painted the princes and princess with the taint of bastardy, and now, with Jaime's revelation, those rumors had been laid bare. Now they knew who the father was, and it couldn't have been worse.

"Behead them!"

"Heathens!"

"Traitors!"

"Traitors!"

The smallfolk got riled up again and their chants grew lower.

Seeing that, the High Septon stepped forward. "They have sinned the Crown and the Faith, Your Grace. What is to be done with these traitors?"

As soon as the High Septon spoke those last words, Cersei and Joffrey's heads turned towards Robert and Sansa.

Robert glared at the mother and son. He chose his words carefully, and intently. He raised his hand at the smallfolk and silenced them. "Many here wish me to let these traitors join the Silent Sisters or the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, they would serve the realm in permanent exile."

Cersei and Joffrey's hearts grew colder. Those words were the same as Joffrey's during Eddard Stark's execution. Only in this case, they knew where this would end.

"But they are soft fools!" Robert's gaze grew colder. "So long as I'm the King! Treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Barristan! Joffrey, Cersei, and Lancel—Bring me their heads!"

"Kill them!"

"Execution!"

The crowds roared in cheers and laughter.

Kingsguards stepped forward quickly, grabbed Joffrey first by his shoulders, and pushed him down onto the cutting block.

"Leave me! Let me go! No, Father! I'm sorry, please don't kill me! I won't hurt the kittens! I will be good!" Joffrey cried, wetting himself as a foul puddle of piss formed under his knees. Perhaps he soiled himself too.

Robert remembered the day he returned to King's Landing in that new body. Sansa's modesty was being played with in full court by the incest-born demon boy. There was no place for mercy.

"Save meeeee-ugh!"

Thud!

The executioner swung the blade. In one strike, Joffrey's head fell and tumbled over to Cersei's feet. Eyes still open, the dead face looking up at her.

And that did the job of waking her up.

"Aaaaaaaa!" Cersei screamed like a banshee. "My Joffrey! My son! M… Jamie! They killed our son!"

Jaime didn't even look at her and remained on his knees in the distance, looking downward.

Thud!

Lancel's head was also severed next. Somehow, this one also rolled over to Cersei's feet.

"No, no, no!" Cersei growled like a beast, baring her teeth towards Robert. "May you rot in hell, Robert! You whoring swine! You filthy pig! I curse you! I curse you as a mother! You will never sire children! You will—Aaaargh!"

Till the last moment, she spewed nothing but venom from her lips.

Thud!

But at last, her severed head fell to the hard, stone floor. Her golden blonde hair was a mess, draping her skull.

This is for Robert.

Seeing there was nobody left to kill, Robert looked behind at Tywin. The man showed no expressions, but his eyes were cold. However, Robert still noticed hope in there as the Old Lion was staring at Jaime.

Not so easy, Tywin. I'll take everything from you.

"The sinners are dead, but the seed of sin still festers!" Robert bellowed, his voice booming with royal authority. The crowd fell silent. "The fate of Myrcella Waters, Tommen Waters, and Jaime Lannister shall be…"