Chapter 6. Just A King

"The fate of Myrcella Waters, Tommen Waters, and Jaime Lannister shall be…" Robert forced himself not to look at Tywin and only focused on Jaime. "Unlike Joffrey, the two are kind. Myrcella Waters will be my cup bearer, and Tommen Waters will join the Night's Watch. As for Jaime Lannister… I was made aware that Cersei had him coerced into submission. As a price for his sin, I have taken his sword hand, so he is free to go."

"No!" Jaime bellowed all of a sudden. "Cersei did not fool me! I loved Cersei! I relished every moment with her! I am a traitor to the realm, Your Grace! Let me take the Night's Watch!"

Robert put on a serious face and looked behind at Tywin for a moment. The old lion was in too much shock and fury. Yet he found himself frozen since aiding Jaime in public was akin to tarnishing House Lannister's name. Silently, he could only stare at his son and pray that he had enough sense in him to stop.

"You don't have to do this, Kingslayer." Robert played the part.

"But I wish to! I wish to pay for my sins! Let me join the Night's Watch and… be with my son." Jaime finally revealed his true intention. This was something the King couldn't refuse unless he was heartless.

Robert looked back at Tywin once again, glaring this time.

"Let me ask you for a third time. Are you certain?"

"I am!"

"Very well! I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, do hereby condemn Jaime of House Lannister to the Night's Watch for the crimes of high treason and incest!" Robert bellowed, louder than ever. This was something to celebrate, after all. "May the gods help you pay for your sins, Kingslayer."

Thud!

At the sudden sound, Robert looked back and found Tywin Lannister on his knees. The old lion had lost balance, it appeared. Understandable, the man just saw his plans go down the shitter. All he had left now was Tyrion, his most hated son.

Drink that sorrow, Tywin. This isn't the end. Robert showed a look of concern on his face while gloating inside. Of course, this went against honor, but honor died on that day when his head left his body.

"Dismissed," Robert proclaimed and left the execution stage.

Bam!

Robert slammed the goblet of fine wine on the table, sitting opposite to him was Robb Stark. The boy was drinking at last, showing a hint of emotions. It was just the two of them as Robert had invited the young lord to his private drinking chamber.

Of course, initially, the entire room was covered with soft cousins on the floor that spanned at least five full-sized beds. There were large wine racks on the walls, and on the ceiling were paintings of naked women. No doubt, Robert used that room before, to drink and drive his cock into throngs of women at once.

King Robert was perhaps the only King to actually live like a King. Unlike the Targaryens before who were usually only obsessed over violating and tormenting their own sisters.

"You remind me of Ned, boy." Robert started, looking at his 'son' with judging eyes. He wanted to teach the boy that the old Eddard Stark's ways were not perfect. That honor wasn't everything. "Gods… Those were the days."

"Father died with honor," Robb muttered and downed a glass.

Robert scoffed instinctively at that. After all, he remembered his 'Ned' side's emotions and thoughts. "No, there was no honor. It was murder, plain and simple, and Ned stood by and let it happen. Cersei confessed it all. Said Ned spoke with her, gave her a chance to flee King's Landing before he opened his mouth to me. And what did that get us? She tried to kill me and succeeded in killing Ned. Honor? Bah, there was none, only betrayal."

Robb frowned and stared at Robert in anger. "Do not dishonor my father, Your Grace."

"Boy, I'm not dishonoring him. Ned was my brother in all but blood, and it burns me up that he let that whore Cersei twist him around her little finger. He shouldn't have died, Robb. He should be here, with me, swigging ale and laughing about the wars we fought. But no, he let that damned honor of his lead him to the grave." Robert groaned and poured more and more wine for himself. It was still a little after morning and he was already drunk.

"Listen to me, boy—never let honor blind you to the truth. They'll cheer your name while hiding a dagger behind their back. That's the way of this bloody realm."

Robb got pulled into memory lane. The moment when he was named King in the North. He knew that it wasn't the decision of the majority, but a mere sentiment. House Bolton and their close allies would never support his kingship.

Well, it didn't exist anymore.

He looked at Robert gratefully. "I'll remember that, Your Grace."

"You can learn more, Robb. Why not stay here and continue on the seat your father left too soon?" Robert offered bluntly. "I need a Hand of the King, and I need someone I can trust."

"Me?" Robb stammered, taken aback. "Your Grace, I'm no fit man for such a burden. I'm young, green as summer grass, and the weight of the Hand's duties is far heavier than anything I've known as a lord."

At least he's self-aware of his shortcomings. Robert sighed in relief as well as sorrow.

"If that's all, I'll take my leave, Your Grace."

Robert just grunted and let the boy go. He had paid the price of coming down south already. There was no need for more Starks to suffer.

Drinking a little more that day, the only thing that he let out was sighs of annoyance. Looking around at the walls of Red Keep, they failed to bring him any semblance of peace and security.

I hate this godforsaken place.

After spending the entire day, and then the night drowning himself in wine, Robert woke up to a knock on his door. It was already morning, and the hangover was gone. No maid, only the Kingsguards were allowed into his bedchambers to aid him in getting dressed in his robes. The bathing, and cleaning he could do himself.

In his thoughts, the less female interaction the better, as Robert's body wasn't great at refusing the opposite gender when offered carnal pleasure on a golden platter. Of course, he wanted to show himself in a new light to Catelyn at the same time.

"Are they ready?" Robert inquired.

"They're waiting for you, your Grace," Ser Barristan informed.

"Then move."

Robert walked out, his usual tunic somewhat sagging now ever since he started losing weight. Somehow, he kept appearing more and more imposing as days passed. But, unlike before, the maids and servants of the Red Keep looked up to him, instead of shaming him in suppressed breaths.

Eventually, he arrived at the Small Council. Everyone was present, Stannis, Davos, Varys, and Tyrion as well. The little Lannister was yet to reveal any hostilities. But the Kingsguards were ordered to slay him at the slightest hint.

"How's he taking it?" Robert asked, his gaze shifting to Varys. "Tywin better hold up his end of the damn bargain. It's no fault of ours that his son's a dumb cunt!"

"He's upset, Your Grace. But he stands in good health. As we speak, he prepares to return to Casterly Rock, and… He's taking with him every single Lannister man that still lives in the city or serves the crown," Varys answered.

Preparing for battle? Robert wondered. But again, Tywin wasn't foolish enough to show his intentions that early. What's he planning?

"Any word on Renly and the Tyrells?" He asked further, glancing at Stannis this time. "This nonsense better stop now."

"It has. The Tyrells seek forgiveness." Stannis placed a small folded missive on the table. "It came this morning."

"We received an official raven from House Tyrell at the same time." Varys interrupted and placed the missive on the table.

Robert internally cursed at the situation. In normal circumstances, handling missives was the job of the Hand. But he had none.

"What do they offer?" Robert asked, already knowing what Tyrells must be thinking. "Ready to feed all of King's Landing? Gift us gold?"

"A cunt!" Tyrion exclaimed all of a sudden.

Uncaring, Tyrion slowly poured wine for himself in his cup while all faces stared at him in confusion and dissatisfaction. Was the imp calling the King a cunt?

"What is the meaning of this?!" Stannis sternly interrogated.

Tyrion shrugged and looked up at the King. "Your Grace, the Tyrells have nothing to gain by feeding the city or gifting you gold. But if they were to gift their noble house's most prized cunt, she'd be the Queen and the mother of the next King."

Robert remembered the names and the details. His face only grew uglier. "Margaery Tyrell? But that's absurd! She's far too young!"

"Eight and ten, just last moon," Tyrion remarked with a sly smile. "Her beauty, they say, is the stuff of songs—though I've always preferred a good drink to a fair face."

"That doesn't make it any better," Robert growled. "House Tyrell won't drag their name through the muck for a scheme like this. Marrying off their young daughter to a widowed man—by the gods, I want no part of it."

"I'm afraid, it seems our friends from Highgarden are rather determined." Varys slid the missive from the Tyrells closer to Robert. "Even now, an escort is being prepared. Lord Mace Tyrell, with his ever-charming daughter in tow, will arrive shortly, and with them; Renly, their prisoner."

Robert rubbed his head in annoyance. He had no plans of falling into another trap just after getting rid of Cersei. And he knew the Tyrells wouldn't be any easier to deal with than the Lannisters.

"Ah, Your Grace, this is merely the opening act," Tyrion drawled, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he savored every moment of the King's discomfort. "You're a King without a Queen, a ruler without an heir. The Tyrells are but the first of many who will come knocking, eager to present their noble daughters for you to wed, bed, and breed—from every corner of the realm and beyond."

"Ugh…" Robert felt his cock twitch all of a sudden.

No! I want no part in this madness! Robert cursed himself. Or rather the body of the man he had possessed. Clearly, the Robert of old, that reckless bastard, would've jumped at the chance without a second thought. Only Catel… Ah! If I must wed, why not Catelyn?

"I have no interest in such senseless discussion right now. Thankfully for the Lannisters, the Crown is once again debt-free. But this is meaningless if we can't earn any gold. Tyrion, you are the Master of Coin, so handle it." Robert focused on the imp. "Before you leave, have a word with me."

"Will do, Your Grace."

Finally, Robert looked at Varys. "Any word from across the Narrow Sea?"

"The wandering Daenerys Targaryen has claimed the title of Mother of Dragons, Your Grace. Whispers, no—reports, suggest that she has hatched three fire-breathing dragons into this world." Varys's voice grew heavy with concern. "If this is true…"

"Leave her be," Robert barked, his voice rough. "I've made that mistake before. I won't make it again."

"But she has dra—"

"Enough of this!" Robert silenced Stannis, or anyone who wanted to speak next. "Get back to your tasks. Varys, I need to know anything new happening among the Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

Quickly, everyone but Tyrion left.

"Speak up. Am I to fear yet another Lannister dagger in my back? Does your loyalty to your sister and brother run so deep you'll make the same blunders they did?" Robert bluntly asked him, "If that's the case, I'd recommend you take your leave from the Red Keep."

"One thing!" Tyrion started. He stared at Robert as if he had no fear. "I don't give a damn about Cersei or Joffrey. I'm appreciative that you allowed Jaime to take the Black. But there's just one thing that gnaws at me—Tommen is a good lad. He didn't deserve this."

I have plans for that boy.

"And Tywin?"

"You could carve out his heart and eat it while on the throne, I wouldn't give a damn."

"Very well." Robert rose up from his seat. "I'll spare Tommen if you can turn the failures of King's Landing into its fortune. Your lineage means nothing to me, and I don't give a damn how tall you are. Show me the results, and rewards will follow."

A chance.

Robert knew what men like Tyrion desired the most in their life. A chance to prove themselves and be treated like an ordinary man. A chance to be taken seriously.

"It will be done," Tyrion replied and jumped from his seat, leaving quickly.

Robert followed suit and headed to the Throne Room. It was time to hold court and do the duty that the body's previous owner neglected the most.

Ruling the realm.

Highgarden, the Reach,

"Mother! How could you make such a decision without consulting me? I'm the lord of this House! Robert is barely younger than I am! No, I won't allow you to marry Margaery off to him!" Mace Tyrell dared to take a louder voice before his mother. "I won't have my daughter be his broodmare… his plaything. He's a whoremonger!"

Olenna Tyrell tolerated her son, a thin smile playing on her lips as she sipped the last of her tea. "I've indulged your little schemes long enough, Mace. You backed Renly, and your pawn was swept from the board. Robert has dragged the Lannisters through the mud, leaving them more vulnerable than ever. You were betting on the opposite, I believe."

"Renly was the most viable choice!" Loras chimed in. "Renly still has a chance, Grandmother. We jus—"

"Go into battle against Robert?" Olenna's voice was laced with icy disdain. "Need I remind you of what his hammer did to the Targaryens? Or his cunning dismantling of the Lannisters? We backed Renly because Robert was supposed to be dead, and Stannis was already bound by marriage. But all that's dust now—if you wish to see Margaery crowned without a battlefield drenched in blood, this is the only path left."

"But Grandmother, he'll mistreat Margaery!" Loras continued.

At that, Olenna angrily glared at her grandson. "Just because one chooses not to see, Loras, doesn't mean they're blind. Don't mistake willful ignorance for weakness. And never forget who you're speaking to!"

"I'll do it!" Margaery voiced just then. "This is my life, my future, and I alone must choose its course. I'll wed King Robert. I'll bear him a son and secure my place as Queen Mother. Cersei has given us this chance, and can not let it slip away."

"But…" Mace trembled in fright for his beloved daughter. "Y-You're the pride of Highgarden… You're the most desired maiden of the Seven Kingdoms. How can I hand you to that brute?"

"That brute is the King," Margaery firmly replied to her father. "Don't all strong men seek beauty in the end?"

"They all do, my sweet girl. Brute or not, Robert's no different from any other man in this wretched realm," Olenna's fingers gently traced Margaery's cheek. "And soon enough, you'll have him on his knees, drooling like the rest of them."

Margaery shyly rolled her eyes away.

But in her heart, she was confident. No man in the Seven Kingdoms was foolish enough to refuse her favor.

Even less so a man like Robert, whose lust ruled his mind more than sanity.

As another night approached, Robert looked for one of his guests to have a private discussion. A discussion that he truly prayed to the gods to do well.

"Catelyn." Robert greeted the overly dressed Tully woman. She looked in much better condition now than before. Her complexion was better, and her eyes less hollow. "Have a seat."

Catelyn stayed alert and walked into the room. The place smelled of alcohol, so she felt on edge already. "What is it that requires such privacy, Your Grace?"

"Just wanted to share some words with you, my lady," Robert said and poured a goblet of wine for her while taking his seat. "I hope you weren't too disappointed by the punishments handed out. Sometimes justice isn't as sweet as the wine we drink, but it's necessary all the same."

"None but Jaime. All the proof points to him or Cersei having pushed Bran from the tower," Catelyn boldly replied. "The Night's Watch is too good for him."

"Do with him what you will, my lady. The man belongs to the North now. Accidents happen—men tumble from walls, or find a knife between their ribs in a tavern brawl. If it were up to me, I'd have lopped his head off myself. But then Tywin would've marched his banners, and we'd be neck-deep in blood alongside the North," he explained his reasoning. "I spoke about this matter with Robb too."

"And what did he say?"

Robert sighed. "He's too honorable for his own good."

This time Catelyn sighed. "Inherited from Ned."

I wish he hadn't.

"History will be kinder to Ned, my lady. But nothing can change the fact that House Stark stands weak now." Robert tried to get closer to the main topic. He felt nervous. He wanted this to succeed. "You'll need every ally you can muster. At least until young Robb grows older and finds his footing."

"I agree with that, Your Grace."

"Then… why not have the Crown be the backer?" Robert asked.

Catelyn's brows furrowed. She stopped drinking and straightened her back. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"

"What I mean is…" Robert sipped in a cold breath. "I received a raven today. House Tyrell will try to force their daughter of eight and ten onto me. Dorne's likely to stir up trouble as well. I came close to death once, and only then could I rid myself of Cersei. I'll be damned if I fall into that snare again."

"I can understand that worry, Your Grace. But, what does that have to do with me?" She inquired.

Robert had no idea how to lay it out in the open. "I-I need someone I can trust. Someone I know and like. So… In the near future, I was hoping that our two houses could join hands and…"

"You wish to marry Sansa?!" Catelyn boomed, standing up in fury.

Seven hells! Have some patience, Catelyn.

"By the gods! No! It's you! I wish to marry you!" Robert revealed. "I've lost a man who was like a brother to me, and you've lost your husband. I need a partner to guard against the scheming of other Houses, and you need support for your own. We have both the need and the means to be together—"

"Enough!"

Robert froze at his words. Catelyn's hand was raised towards his face. She even refused to look at him.

"Robert, I hold you in regard and cherish your bond with Ned. Yet, beyond this, there is nothing we share in common. Our lands are distinct, our burdens disparate. I heard nothing, and you said nothing today. These are the truths, and it would be wise for you to heed them as well. The North shall endure as it always has, through countless ages. I advise you to seek a fitting bride to carry on the royal line. That is… my counsel, offered in friendship."

Catelyn started walking away towards the door.

Robert wanted to rush up to her and hold her there. But he contained himself there. "We can make this work, Catelyn."

"Ned was the only husband I ever had, and ever will, Your Grace. I'm a widow, and I would like to die as one. Good night."

Thud!

Robert sat back in his seat in defeat. The chances were low from the start, but this was worse than expected. His attempt to hold onto the North and remain a part of it indirectly was now in ruins.

Is this it? Is this what I must do? Marry some young maiden and make offspring?

Just to find those answers, he chose to take the shelter of wine again. For the second night in a row, he found himself rejected by two Starks.

This Keep is cursed!

Mood worsening in seconds, Robert drowned himself in his drinks. The verdict was clear, and he was damned to live as Robert Baratheon now. Away from the North and his family. Away from his wife.

Not Robert, nor Ned. What am I? He asked himself, downing more and more cups. Just a King? Is that all?

"Ugh…" He felt suffocated all of a sudden. He moved on his feet quickly and left the room. The bottle of wine was still in his hands.

"Your Grace!" Ser Barristan rushed to give support.

"No need. Your shoulder can't pick me up today," Robert replied and started walking towards the Red Keep's exit. "These damned walls are choking the life out of me. We're going to the city... I need the stink of the smallfolk to remind me I'm still breathing."

"City? Your Grace, it's dangerous!" Ser Barristan warned.

"I'll be fine. Just get me a sword!" Robert unknowingly asked for a blade instead of his warhammer. "We'll carve through anyone foolish enough to think they can harm me!"

Ser Barristan sighed. Seeing that the King was drunk and out of his mind. It somewhat reminded him of the old Robert.

In the end, Robert left the Red Keep on foot and walked into the city. It was dinner time, so most homes smelled of warm meals, and the roads were less crowded. The stench was still there, and it annoyed Robert as much as it woke him up a little.

"Where would you like to go, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.

Robert hummed and picked a path. "Somewhere I can lie down and eat, away from the Red Keep."

"Wh—Ah!"

Ser Barristan shut up as soon as Robert turned towards the Street of Silk. They soon passed by many brothels, and taverns, and reached the finest the city had to offer. Perhaps before the painful end of Lord Baelish, his brothels could be called the best. Now, the title was with Chataya's brothel.

"Jon Arryn used to ramble on about this place," Robert muttered as he stepped through the threshold. "Well, let's see what all the fuss was about."

The scent of exotic spices filled the air and his nose as soon as he entered. His body reacted sharply to it and heated up instantly. As if muscle memory was reactivated, he crossed the large mosaic on the floor of two women making love, and arrived at the common room behind a Myrish screen.

It was nighttime, so there were plenty of men in the hall itself. Cushioned alcoves sprawled the entire floor and women were already in the act of pleasing their clients. These were the men who could afford a cunt but not a room.

Of course, anyone who saw Robert and recognized him froze in their acts.

"Continue," he said and walked deeper into the brothel and finally found a whore not occupied.

She reminded him of Alayaya, but this one was taller, more ripe in age, and fantastically carved throughout. Her silken robe was loose around her neck, barely hiding her round assets.

"Your Grace." The dusky woman greeted him with an accent of the Summer Isles.

Robert found himself gazing at the buxom woman from head to toe. Her black hair finely tied in a bun reminded him of those highborn ladies. But her clothing made it apparent she was a whore. Her height was shorter than his, but far more than most women, he liked the thought of her.

"I need a place to rest and dine," Robert demanded.

Chataya smiled welcomely and approached the King. She took his mighty arm and hugged it against her plump breasts. "Then come with me, Your Grace."

"Alayaya?" Robert drunkenly murmured.

"I'm Chataya, Your Grace," she replied and squeezed his arm more on her ripe flesh. "Would you like to have her too?"

"She… She's good," Robert muttered. This time his arm went around and gripped Chataya's fleshy waist. In a moment, the same hand slid down behind her curvaceous bottom.

Chataya smiled and gestured to one of her girls and continued to lead the King to a room fitting for him. Sadly, the Turret Room was already occupied, and its demand was quite high on all nights. So, she took him to her personal chambers.

Chataya moved with a graceful flow, guiding Robert to the edge of the grand bed. She circled him with practiced ease, her fingers neatly unfastening each piece of his clothing. As the last garment fell away, she placed a hand on his chest, guiding him down onto the soft sheets. "You seem tense, Your Grace. Let me help you relax."

"Go on…" Robert didn't say a lot. The battle in his head was at its climax, and the lust was winning over honor. The booze was winning over sanity. The loss of Catelyn was slowly setting him free of vows.

"Umm…" Chataya hummed and disrobed completely.

She picked a glass bottle from the side and glided over the soft bed. With ease, she spread her dark chocolate legs and straddled Robert's equally naked waist, pressing his growing erection under her hot flower. "In the Summer Isles, those skilled at giving pleasure are esteemed. To pleasure is to honor the gods."

Robert smiled and raised his rough hands. His spread palms cupped her large breasts and fondled them. Soft as a feather, warm as a lover's kiss. Her dark nipples, tight and large, ready to be eaten. "Then gods shaped you well, my lady."

Chataya throatily chuckled and spilled some oil on Robert's chest. Then she began spreading it and massaging his strong muscles. Her vigorous, large hands pressed and slid over his chest from his belly to his shoulders.

I can't remember Robert receiving this. This feels… fantastic.

Having trained tirelessly ever since he woke in that body, Robert had lost as much weight as much muscles he had grown. Although he shockingly felt no pain anywhere, the massage felt nourishing.

"This is great…" He praised her and shut his eyes to enjoy her touch. "I'll… get addicted at this pace."

"Good for business," she jested and earned King's belly wobbling chuckle.

Clack!

"Mother?"

Robert raised his head sideways and looked. The door was open and the familiar Alayaya stood there looking as fantastic as ever. No, I can't have these two at the same time. They'll h—

"Come here, 'Yaya. Serve your King." Chataya called sweetly, shifting a little forward, removing his full, throbbing erection from the confines of her warm weight. "I'll see to the upper, while you tend to the lower, my dear."

"Oh, of course." Alayaya entered the room, closed the door behind, and let her robes fall around her feet. She quickly crawled onto the bed, behind Chataya's hips, and made Robert's legs spread wider.

Robert grunted as soon as he felt Alayaya's hands trace his hairy legs and reach for his shaft. She took some oil from Chataya and spilled it all over him. In no time, she began to touch him and massage him everywhere. Feet, shins, calves, thighs, balls, and cock—the whole package.

Meanwhile, Chataya leaned down on Robert's chest and pressed her buttery, burgeoning breasts on him. All the while her face landed to the side of his neck. Her hands continued to massage his shoulders and biceps, however.

It was the hottest thing Robert, or the soul inside, had ever felt. Her wet licks on his neck were electric. It became impossible to hold himself back, and he reached for her soft ass with his hands.

"Argh!" Robert groaned like a man having his first time. Peak sensory overload reached as soon as he felt young Alayaya popping his craving cock in her mouth. Her slippery tongue squeezed him in all the right places.

He never knew he could ever be this hard, but here he was.

It's like making love to… angels in heaven. Robert slowly lost himself to pleasure. The moment Chataya reached near his cheek, he willingly shifted his face and locked with her ripe lips. The woman was no less of a beauty than any—her exotic complexion aroused hunger in him. Her elegant face and those sandalwood-colored eyes were just… thirst inducing.

He felt absorbed into Chataya's drugging kiss. But at the same time, Alayaya's engulfing mouth on his cock made him buckle. His mighty legs shook a little as she took him to the deepest part of her throat.

Intoxicating. He felt and gripped Chataya's ass with more fervor. His groping palms spread her rear enough that he was sure Alayaya could see into her entrances.

"Move, 'Yaya," Chataya ordered and released the King from her lips. She dragged herself backward on his belly and finally felt his heated, slippery cock. She didn't have to do anything but raise herself high. Alayaya gripped his cock and aimed it at Chataya's cunt. "Aaaaah—Fulfilling!"

"Seven Hell!" Robert sucked in a moaning breath.

The oil had to have something in it as he felt so aroused and on the edge. As soon as Chataya's tight cunt started devouring him before his gaze, he lost any semblance of control left. By instinct, he thrust his hips up and jammed himself balls deep—Clearly a lot more than the fine, ripe whore was used to.

Her gasp was loud, and she froze on his cock for a short moment. Her head fell back, chin raised high, eyes closed, and mouth wide open. Her belly throbbed at the insane fullness she felt inside. At the insane stretch, she could feel over her soft silken walls. At the dangerously probing cockhead knocking on the door to her womb.

"Oh… A cock worth kingdoms…" Chataya muttered and slowly moved herself. A little shocked at how she, renowned for her prowess to pleasure men, felt so lost and vulnerable. But at the same time, how long had it been since she last felt true pleasure from a man's hot swollen flesh? She couldn't remember. But that night, she thanked the gods for this reminder.

Clap!

Chataya rose herself high and slapped her ass down with rough intensity. Adamant on fucking herself and pleasuring the King, she tried to ignore the threatening stretches from his size and let the pleasure take over.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Alayaya crawled beside Robert and loomed over his face with her fantastic, shapely breasts. Less than Chataya, but still plenty for men to enjoy. "Ummh… I was hoping you'd call for me again to Red Keep, Your Grace."

Robert was drowned in pleasure. "Will… Do…"

He suckled Alyaya's breasts that she presented while fucking her mother with the upward thrust of his hips. He wanted to be inside her as much as she wanted to feel him. The woman was truly something else, he felt. Even in the memories with Cersei, it was always him who did the work. Not many women could handle his size, let alone take initiative.

Yet the pleasure of Chataya's pulsating core was too sweet to forget. His breath surged, and his scalp tingled every time he felt her silken walls tighten around him, whenever she'd land on him, balls deep. Her gyrating hips were alone enough to make him spill.

But Robert was no weak man. He gritted his lips on Alayaya's dark nipples while trying to control his breath.

"Aaaah… Oh, my King!" Chataya moaned. Usually fake, this time her ears perked in shock. She felt so weak on his length, already sensing the incoming climax. Her cunt tightly clenched on his long pole and just kept on devouring it all inside herself.

Her own hands played with her breasts, pinching the nipples in the heat of arousal. Her mind was already empty, she knew nothing but the shaft inside her.

"Ah, ah, yesss~ I'm coming!" She cried out in a heavily accented voice and fell forward all of a sudden, landing her face under Robert's chin. Her knees folded, and she swallowed the entire length in her cunt, leaving his massive girth spreading her wide and twitching. Her ass jumped on its own, the spasms took over.

"Ummmmm~"

Her entire body writhed on Robert's chest. In blissful abandon, she came on top of his cock with electric jolts. Her sticky spill failed to leak out as he kept her insanely stretched. Her gasping, panting breaths continued to rise to the peak with her throbs until she went limp all of a sudden.

"Mmmm… I ugh…"

Robert frowned. Gods, am I the whore or is she the whore?

"As expected," Alayaya murmured all of a sudden from the side. "I was like this too."

Robert looked down on his chest and found Chataya had already passed out in pleasure. "I'm not done."

"Nor am I, Your Grace." Alayaya laid down her full body on the bed, legs spread, welcoming him.

Robert didn't need a second invitation. He slid Chataya off of himself and sat up. Honor, duty, royalty, nobility, nothing mattered at that moment. His arousal and the tight cunt waiting for him—that was all there was to it.

"Like this? I'm heavy," Robert warned. Initially too drunk, the pleasure had made him a little sober.

Alayaya spread her knees even wider and said nothing.

These two are fantastic!

Unlike the last time, when he feared hurting her, he gently shifted between her legs. He slapped her soaked cunt with his cock a few times. His bulging, purple cockhead was already coated in Alayaya's mother's juices, so he found no trouble sliding in.

"Aaaah!"

Tight! He found her tighter than her mother. All the more enjoyable, it meant. Ugh… Fucking fantastic!

More and more, he lost his thoughts and plunged half of his length inside. Looking down, the stretch on her entrance was insane, and he had to rub his eyes to ensure it wasn't the bump of his cock that he was seeing on her pelvis' flesh.

"Aaaaah… Yes! I… I don't even need gold for this! Just… make love to me, Your Grace!"

A fine, tight, exotic cunt for free? That was the deal of the year.

Robert slowly loomed over her young, fleshy body. Elbows folded, he let his belly squeeze against hers and landed his face on her voluptuous breasts. Oh, how wonderful they were—hot, glistening with oil, and tender to the touch.

"Ummm…" Alayaya felt more and more of his size invading her. The more Robert pressed on her body, the more it burned inside.

"I'll move now," Robert warned and thrust in with force. At last, he felt all of his length surrounded by her warmth. For a few short moments, he let her rest and get used to his size.

"Oh, oh, oooooh! Yes~"

Robert let the beast in him take over from there. He stopped suckling her breasts and completely hugged her shapely body underneath. He landed his face beside her hot neck and began to pound into her with reckless abandon.

"Gods! So amazing! A-Ah! Yesss! Please don't stop! Do-ungh!"

"Hah! Hah!" Robert grunted into her ear with hot breaths. His fucking made Alayaya's back arch, her hips rising upward on instinct as if begging him to go deeper, harder. Her entire body felt so warm and soft against his chest that she almost fainted in that heat.

Soon enough, the musky scents came out as Alayaya came on his cock in no time. But his frantic fucking never stopped as he searched for his own release. He bounced on her body with all his pressing weight, driving so deep that his balls slapped against her ass each time. The slippery, sticky mess constantly trickled and spilled onto the bedding.

"Ummmmmmmm… Fuck, fuck!" Alayaya felt her mind go empty.

Her eyes wide open, could only look at the ceiling. Her lips curved into a sloppy smile of ecstasy, legs dangling on both sides, the heat from his cock's friction made her feel the stinging burn. Yet, it was all that she wanted! It felt fantastic! The rocking, creaking bed… Pleasure like never before.

Robert hugged her body tighter and slid his heavy arms underneath her head. He hugged her face there and pounded harder. To the point that he couldn't go any further, slamming her deepest wall. It all just felt so tight, so stimulating all over his skin, her heated walls, the folds, the tightening clenches of her second climax—Alayaya was perhaps what Chataya once was, in her younger days.

"Ugh… There it is!" Robert bellowed and slammed all the way in and just stopped. He fell down on Alayaya with all his might. In tiny twitches, the throbbing of his cock, and the flexes of his ass, he burst out everything he had. Shooting every single musky white drop of his royal batter in her cunt.

Alayaya's eyes rolled up at the flowing heat filling her insides. So much more than any man she had felt before. So much hotter, burning than anything before.

Robert rode through the last few tremors of his body and didn't pull out until the very last drop settled in her young, Summer Islander cunt. Perhaps the best sex in a long, long time.

"Hah…" He rolled aside at last and landed between the mother and daughter. The two women were quick to hug him from each side, pressing him with their fine tits.

It didn't take long before Robert also closed his eyes and fell asleep. After so long, finally, he felt some peace of mind and calm.

His eyes opened just an hour later, completely sober now.

He felt the two women still tightly hugging him. But he didn't push them away, just silently accepted what he had done. Somehow, he felt no shame anymore. As if, Catelyn's refusal had somehow freed his conscience.

He softly arose from the two women's tight grasp and sat down on the bed. He gave them an appreciative look. It was an undeniable fact that his body had more lust than what could be contained with mere mental strength. So, he accepted these two women.

Not Robert, nor Ned… I am just a King. A king with duties to this realm.

He slid off the bed and put on his clothes. Then, at last, he grabbed his sword and walked out of the room. Ser Barristan was still there, standing guard.

"Let's go back."

Ser Barristan initially had a worried look on his face. But once he saw the King looking so serious, he silently started leading the way. "This way."

Robert picked up the pace and walked beside the old Kingsguard. They soon entered the smaller streets, and approached the Red Keep.

"Increase my training time to ten hours from tomorrow."

Ser Barristan looked worriedly at the King. "T-That will break you, Your Grace."

"Then that is the need of the hour,"

Clank!

"Get down!" Ser Barristan abruptly roared and jumped in front of Robert.

Woosh!

An arrow came out of nowhere and still struck Robert on his right shoulder.

"Who dares!" Robert bellowed and unsheathed his sword. Back to back, the two men stood and looked around to find the enemies. "Stand before me!"

Tap! Tap!

A lot of footsteps resounded all of a sudden.

"Run, Your Grace!"

"In your dreams," Robert replied and stared at the alleyway in front of him. The same footsteps were coming from behind as well. It was an ambush from both sides. "Let them sacrifice their lives to me."

Moments later, at least fifty men in ragged clothing came running. Some had swords and others had spears. None of them looked pale and scrawny—soldiers, no doubt.

"Try to recognize any faces!" Robert commanded and prepared for the collision.

It was very loud. The shouts and warcries from so many men had woken up the entire streets. Plenty of windows opened up on the upper floors and quickly closed in fear. The few homes that still had lights on went dark.

"Who sent you, pests?!" Robert took the charge instead, taking the first row of attackers by surprise.

Woosh!

He swung the blade in a wide arch and scrapped some enemy swords. But his strength was enough to push them all back a little.

"Ha!" Robert let his instincts take over. Experience of two warriors combined in one. Strength of Robert, and swordsmanship of Eddard Stark.

Clank!

"Argh!"

Robert danced with the longsword. Swinging it with ease, it looked as if he toyed with the men. Throats slit, blood dripped, knees split apart, and chests wide open. He used every advantage he had, including his body.

"Take that, traitors!" Robert blocked one man with his sword and grabbed the other by the throat. He raised him in the air and threw him back towards others.

Woosh!

Robert stabbed all those who fell. Some into their heads, some into their chests. The roars of fighting men slowly began turning into painful cries.

Like rabbits battling a giant, Robert moved around the small alley and killed as many as he could. He received plenty of deep wounds in doing so; stabs, scattered shallow slashes on his flesh, while the arrow shot at his shoulder was still jammed in his flesh.

But the rush of killing intent moved him. No thoughts, pure instincts.

"Haaaaaa… Trying to kill me?!" Robert bellowed loud enough that two streets on each side also heard him. "Come on then!"

Woosh!

Robert jumped over a few dead bodies and came to Ser Barristan's aid, who himself stood on a pile of dead bodies. They quickly stood back to back in formation and began cutting down incoming men.

From fifty the number fell to twenty. From twenty, only five remained standing now.

"Recognised any?" Robert asked furiously, panting. Blood covered his entire being.

"Some." Ser Barristan answered. "Baratheon men mixed with Tyrells."

"Fuck!" Robert cursed and glared at the five remaining men.

Clank!

Thud!

The five men threw their weapons down and ran away instead. A good decision on their part.

At last, Robert and Ser Barristan took a sigh of relief.

"Renly… that damned fool!" Robert growled, his voice thick with rage. "They must've given the order before their raven ever took flight."

"Or… there's a divide within the Tyrell ranks," Ser Barristan suggested. He was injured too, but far less than Robert as he was in his full armor. "Lord Tyrell loves his daughter dearly."

"That oaf!"

Tap! Tap!

All of a sudden, the two heard more footsteps and became serious. They looked at each other's faces, tacitly acknowledging that they couldn't fight any more men.

Thud!

"Ugh…" Robert fell to one knee abruptly. Brows furrowed, he looked at his shoulder. "Poison… Arrow!"

"We must move, Your Grace!" Ser Barristan gave his all and offered his shoulder to the King. "I know a place."

"It better be close!" Robert gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward. They disappeared into a side alley quickly to get away from the footsteps.

Many twists and turns later, Ser Barristan approached a modest mansion that clearly didn't belong to a smallfolk.

Knock! Knock!

Ser Barristan didn't greet and pushed in as soon as the door opened. "Lady Allyria Dayne, forgive us for entering like this. It's an emergency!"

D-Dayne? Robert's barely open eyes tried to look up at the woman. Allyria?

Thud!

Sadly, that was the limit of the Stag's strength.

"That's impossible!"

"Maester, I am no man to lie. His Grace was gravely injured and poisoned!"

Seven Hells! They can't shut their mouths! Furrowed brows, Robert's eyes slowly opened. He felt bedding underneath him and on his body, a quilt. It was as bright as daylight in the room, and he could hear familiar voices.

"Dayne?" He murmured again and tried to sit up. To his shock, he did that with ease. Not even a small pinch was felt. "What… happened?"

He remembered being wounded and poisoned. But he felt no bandages on his body.

Woosh!

Robert threw the quilt away from his body. Naked except for smallclothes.

"Gods! H-How?" He frantically rubbed his chest, belly, and shoulder where the wounds were. "Where are the wounds?!"

He jumped from the bed and stood to his full height. Not an ounce of pain anywhere. On top of that…

I feel stronger!