Chapter 16. Flower's Submission & Young Love
As the King had just returned, a feast was held in the Throne room, right in front of the Iron Throne. It was a sizable feast with only the lords and ladies in attendance, especially the Tyrells who were still living inside the Red Keep. Since the road between King's Landing and the Highgarden wasn't as treacherous, the Tyrells had made multiple trips back and forth throughout his campaign in the North.
But surprisingly, Margaery had remained inside King's Landing. Even more surprising was the trace of animosity that Robert sensed between Margaery on one side and Sansa and Myrcella on the other.
"I've heard of your deeds in the North, Your Grace. A fine answer to those Ironborn rats. Let us raise a toast to your triumph!" Mace Tyrell wasted no time groveling. Buttering up kings was all the man was good for.
"Where is Olenna?" Robert asked.
"She will be returning very soon, Your Grace. At her age, it's best to take things slow. But worry not, I am here, should you wish to speak of anything, I am at your service." Mace Tyrell said, his gaze lingering on his daughter with an all-too-obvious interest.
Robert just nodded and looked to his right where Margaery was sitting. It was a deliberate seating plan so he could have the two Tyrells on his side each.
"How was your stay in the King's Landing, Margaery?"
Margaery smiled giddily. "I must confess, Your Grace, I have found great delight in my time here, wandering through every street the city has to offer. Yet, the Throne Room—oh, it has always seemed so empty without you. Now that you are back, I cannot help but think my stay will become all the more... pleasurable."
Such a sly mouth.
"Let's pick up where we left off. I'm certain you've much to say." Robert gave her a hint and focused on the dinner.
The feast wasn't the place to plot his rise. He wanted to feel at peace.
Sadly, it was nowhere to be found. Sansa and Myrcella on the side were mimicking Margaery and making fun of her. Jon Snow was at the edge of the table, silently eating his food. Stannis wasn't even there.
He had no family of his own while those he felt connected to couldn't be called his own.
With small talk, music, and food, the feast continued for hours. But Robert finished his meal fast and excused himself from the feast, leaving Tyrion to entertain the guests as the Hand of the King.
Robert made his way deeper into the castle and followed his Kingsguards into a secluded chamber. As soon as he entered, he smelled a scent he'd grown tired of. The Red Woman was in the room along with Stannis.
"I asked to meet alone, Stannis."
"She already knows what you intend to say, Your Grace," Stannis replied, "Melisandre insists on being included. She offers aid to our cause."
"How? By sacrificing newborns?" Robert scoffed at the woman's face and took his seat at the small table.
Melisandre stepped forward from behind Stannis' seat and bowed her head. "I have been seeing visions of you in the Lord's flames, Your Grace. The Lord has shown me the path you seek, and I can guide you towards it."
"By the gods, woman, the path I seek is simple—it's you shutting that damn mouth of yours!" Robert snapped and stared at his brother. "I've learned something about the Lannisters that could serve us well. But it'll take careful planning."
Let's see if you're truly loyal to me, Stannis.Robert stopped caring about Melisandre. He didn't care if the Lannister's secret became known across the seven kingdoms. No matter what happened, it would be his victory.
Stannis, with his never-changing face, leaned forward on the table. "I'm here to listen, Your Grace."
"The Lannisters are running out of gold, Stannis. Those mines have been bled dry for a thousand years, and there's naught left to dig. Tywin took out a loan from the Iron Bank during the Rebellion, and then he's borrowed again—against you and Renly. That Golden Lion ain't golden anymore, boy. It's a bloody farce, meant to make him look strong. A gamble, hoping he'll come out on top and pay off his debts in the end."
For a moment, Stannis revealed a frown. But then the man looked at his Red Priestess and became calm. "If the word of it gets out…"
"Hard to believe," Robert replied, "It's better to work in the shade. One of us, maybe you, will head to Braavos soon to talk about another loan for the crown. But make no mistake, the true reason for the visit isn't that. We don't need gold. What we need is for the Bank to gamble on us, on the fall of the Lannisters."
"I shall depart for Braavos, as you command, Your Grace. But tell me this—will the Iron Bank's coin suffice? Dorne and the Ironborn remain thorns in our side."
"That's why we need a sharper thorn to prick them. I've set my sights on the Tyrells—see if they're worth a damn." Robert indirectly hinted at his next steps. It felt shameful to say it outright.
"You will marry the girl?" Stannis questioned.
"He has no need of such trifles," Melisandre interrupted suddenly, eyeing Robert like a prized possession. "His Grace holds the fire of kings within him, a power that bends the will of any woman he chooses. All that remains is for him to surrender to the flame of his desire."
Disgusted, Robert stared at her face for a good silent moment. "Woman, do you hear yourself speaking? Stannis, if you let her join again, I won't bother with words the next time."
Robert stood up with that and decided to head to his bedchamber.
"I will do what needs to be done."
"Your Grace!" Melisandre still didn't stop speaking and raised her voice at Robert's fleeting back. "Keep your gaze sharp and your soul attuned, for the signs shall soon manifest themselves. Many gods reach out to you, but the one who shall mold your path wears many faces. Your fate will lead you, unerringly, to the destiny that awaits."
Shaking his head, Robert left the secluded chamber. He knew Stannis was lost to Melisandre's magic and cunt, so he didn't bother taking her seriously.
Rather, he felt more perturbed by what was to come that night.
Arriving inside his bedchamber, Robert walked up to change into some loose, comfortable tunic and pants to sleep. Normally, Robert would have had a few pretty servants disrobe and dress him up.
But this wasn't Robert.
Nor was it Eddard.
As he picked up a loose tunic to put on, he looked at himself in the mirror. He had gotten used to the sight of Robert appearing in it. Rather, he looked at his body which he'd been carving slowly for more than two years.
He didn't drink or dine too much. The results he could see clearly—a massive six and a half feet tall frame of muscle and mass. Arms thick enough to be a common warrior's legs, shoulders wide enough to vanish even the likes of fat Genna Lannister underneath his shadow. Hair slightly shorter than ear-length, beard trimmed thin, his belly although still there, no longer could be called fat.
But more than anything, he looked at the spotless but hairy skin of his chest and back. There was no wound, no mark left. In the recent battles, he'd fought like a mad beast who felt no pain and received wounds enough to kill ten men.
"Here I stand, stronger than I've ever been." Robert clenched his fist, feeling like he could lift an elephant if he wanted.
With a rustle of his sleeves, he donned his loose tunic. Then, with a quick tug at the edges, he was ready to rest.
But for the last time, he looked at himself in the mirror and nodded.
"Whatever beast or burden comes my way, I'll face it—and damn the cost!"
That was one reasoning he had come to accept. Ever since he returned to that body, all he hoped was to bring peace across the realm and end all wars. To bring justice at all costs.
But what did he get?
"Dorne stirs, the Ironborn rebel, the Westerlands want my head, the North bleeds, the Riverlands are leaderless, and the Vale's not far behind," Robert summarized his current predicament. "All I have is Crownlands and The Reach selling me its prized flower."
During his campaign in the North, Robert had found his answer. He had to get his hands dirty if he didn't want to end up like the old Robert. He had to play the game the same way others did.
Knock! Knock!
Robert exhaled a lengthy breath. "Whatever it takes…"
He walked over to his bed chamber's door and waited for the Kingsguard's response.
"Your Grace, Lady Margaery seeks an audience."
An audience in the King's bedchamber? Not even being subtle now?
"Let her in." Robert eased back and waited.
The door clacked open and Margaery walked in with her usual smile, her thin lips pursed together. In her hand was a jar of wine, of all things.
Not subtle at all.Robert noticed her attire—a thin, sleeveless teal-colored gown, her neckline as wide as her narrow shoulders, her pristine skin in open display to the King. She sauntered, seductively, if a man knew what to look at. Her frame was shorter than Sansa's, reaching barely Robert's chest.
To Robert's own surprise, he didn't notice any sign of her being intimidated by his large frame. Slender, beautiful, alluring, and so delicate—like a flower. Robert felt like he could toss her across a jousting field with his current might. But when he looked down, he sighed inwardly since he knew what was to come.
"You didn't have to bring the wine, Lady Margaery. It's beneath you." Robert approached her and took the jar from her hand. "Leave such tasks to the servants."
Margaery continued to linger in the King's bedchamber and looked around at the various paintings on the wall. "Oh, Your Grace, the feast was far too crowded for such intimate conversation. I was hoping for a moment alone with you, to speak in private, just the two of us."
Robert nodded and gestured for her to take a seat at the table by the large window. He followed behind her swaying, perky hips. On the way, noticing himself in the mirror yet again. He gave himself a nod as if reaffirming his decision.
"I've longed for a moment alone with you, my King. Sadly, previously you had to rush to the North." Margaery rose as Robert took his seat, her movements graceful, almost deliberate. She poured him a glass of wine, her eyes lingering on him as she did so. "In our last conversation, I was… uncertain, and now, I see the folly in that. As your wife, I belong to you—heart, mind, and body. I stand before you now, to offer all of myself, to be your unwavering support. You may place your trust in me, because I will be with you in every storm, through every trial."
Robert silently heard her talk and drank some wine to digest her words. But when she placed her small hand over his shoulder, he intently looked at her face. He was a man who knew what beauty was, and there was no doubt Margaery was one of the finest the realm had to offer. But she was almost Sansa's age, and that…
It doesn't matter anymore.He reminded himself of his decision.
Margaery continued to softly stroke her fingers over his muscled shoulder. "I know we're not alike, my King. Our years, our status, even our thoughts, our bodies—they differ. I won't pretend otherwise. As a young girl, I too dreamed of a prince upon a white steed, pale as snow and lean. But now, when I look at you, I see far more than any dream could offer. You are far greater than what any prince could hope to imitate."
Thud!
Robert slammed his empty goblet of wine on the table and pushed his chair back, standing up to his full height. He turned towards Margaery, the distance between their bodies non-existent. He looked down at her tender frame, meeting her brown, passion-filled eyes. He saw resolution in her, yet he noticed a hidden hint of hesitation.
I need the Tyrells as much as they need me.
"Speak plainly, Margaery. What do you want?"
Margaery gulped and raised her chin higher. "I want to be yours, Your Grace. Like a woman is to her lover… on this table, upon the chair, against the cold stone of the wall, or even upon your Iron Throne itself… I want to bear you heirs."
Robert nodded, his steely gaze unmoving. "Lovers, you say? There's no love here, just flesh chasing flesh. And still, you want me, between your legs, as if it means more?"
Purposefully, Robert descended the conversation into a more vulgar nature. He wanted to see her resolve, he wanted to break her before he began to do things with her body.
"I do, Your Grace." Margaery firmly replied and took three steps back.
Robert crossed his arms, their size behemoth. "It will be painful."
"Your Grace, I'll endure it gladly, taking your love into my heart until it blossoms into nothing but joy."
Robert chuckled. "Take me as you please and make me your willing whore. Is that what you mean?"
"If…"
Margaery tried to keep a confident gaze while her hands moved to her shoulders. Her delicate fingers opened up the ornaments connecting them. Her gown fell freely off her shoulders, caressing over her naked, unblemished skin, and finally sliding off her slender legs. They pooled on the floor, leaving her pristine body bare as the day she was born.
She stood there in front of him, looking confident in her naked form. Her waist was tenderly slender, her curves defined what a gallant lover would fight for. Her small breasts were a pair of gentle clouds that would cradle any man's restless head as they dreamed of opulence and played with her silky hair. Her plump bottom, a work of art of its own, creamy and soft, perfect for a man's wide, wild palm. And that smile, charming of course; a mix between playfully charming and dangerously seductive.
"If that is what you desire, I will be your willing woman… in all the ways you want."
She stood there looking up at him, her gaze never leaving his eyes. The young little flower was challenging the giant, unknowing of how he could step on it; plundering, and battering it to submission.
Robert silently gazed at Margaery's lithe frame. Any lord, or any man in the realm would have pounced on the woman if given a chance like this. But he stood in his place, arms still crossed. He had seen enough naked women to not act like a fiend.
But he had to agree. She didn't have large breasts or birthing hips, yet she had a savory, delightful beauty that one couldn't help but admire. The hourglass figure, her confident eyes, her lips, they all told a story.
Furthermore, noticing not a single speck of hair on the hidden flower between those legs made it clear that she planned this from the beginning.
"It will hurt a lot," Robert warned her once again. "There is no love between us, Margaery. If you continue, I won't hold myself back—I will do you like I do my whores. If you quit then…"
"I won't, Your Grace."
Margaery strolled closer to Robert, naked in all sense, barefoot. Her beautiful, pale skin was the peak of feminine beauty, with a few adorable moles here and there, she was as untouched as the most delicate treasure. She stood closer in front of Robert and pressed her palm on his chest, feeling his muscles. She slowly crouched to her knees, tracing her hand down over his belly. Eventually, she stood fully on her knees and tugged at his breeches.
She opened them and with a plop, his hard, almost fully erect, veiny cock swung free and patted her forehead. The large phallus, dotted with some hairs, was more than she had ever seen before. Her eyes slightly widened by the giant's rod, its length was as big as the range of her face, if not bigger. Due to his height, she still found his cock at her forehead level instead of her mouth.
Carefully, gulping, she grabbed his girth around the base. Her fingers weren't even close to wrapping him whole. She almost wondered if her lips could accommodate the King's cock.
Yet, Margaery gave Robert another confident look and finally guided his throbbing, hot shaft towards her lips.
"I belong to you… All of me is yours… All… Umm…"
She struggled to suck him past the first inch, having to stretch her dry lips open with his cock's girth itself. Her tongue slathered his swollen head with spit, trying hard to let the beast glide into her mouth as she relaxed her throat. Her plump lips stretched more and more, sliding over his sensitive skin.
Robert smirked a little, acting gentle with her. He didn't touch or aid her at all, standing with his arms folded still, watching her try her best to gobble up half his length. He could see fire in her eyes, a battle of dominance in her mind as if she was more experienced than the women in his life. But he knew better as he watched her, her little mouth sloppily sputtering out more saliva to help.
After a couple of sucks, she moved on to licking under his balls, smearing her face with his precum and her spit. She tried hard to satisfy him without subjecting her straining throat to the behemoth of a beast. Her hands fondled his balls as she licked every inch of his veiny cock.
"Are you done?" Robert questioned.
Margaery's heart froze for a moment. Gripping his shaft with both her hands, she looked up, brows creased. "W-What do yo…"
"Stand up and lie down on the table on your back. Let your head fall off the edge, I'll teach you how a whore glazes and suckles a cock."
Margaery slowly stood up, a little confused. For a moment, she was sure he was going to fuck her, and that would be the end of all her worries. But then, the 'head' part made her wonder. She sat her squishy, pale ass on the table, gently laying back while her hair swayed over the edge. The fact that Robert was looming above her head almost made her worried for her life.
Robert leaned down a little from above, his rough palms traced over her small breasts and indulged in the softness. He tickled and played with her pale brown nipples between his fingers, gripping around her velvety flesh. He could feel her squirm when he pinched and kneaded, her waist wiggling in temptation and coy, whispering moans escaping her.
Then, he spread his legs and stepped closer to her dangling face. "Open your mouth!"
Margaery was startled out of her burning daze, her eyes shot open. She tentatively opened her mouth, doing as the King demanded.
"Wider! I said wider, girl!"
Holding his now fully erect shaft, Robert guided his cockhead towards her lips.
Without a second thought, Robert ruthlessly thrust into her warm, moist throat; his balls smacking her eyes and nose. He plunged wildly, striking the back of her throat as his hips jolted in.
Back and forth he moved, allowing her spit to cover his entire length. He leaned over her body, grabbing her brazenly exposed, jiggling mounds; gripping and squeezing her breast as his cock went in. He pulled down on them every time he thrust in, going as deep as possible, as fast as possible.
"Gk! Gk! Umppph!" Margery tried hard to relax her choking throat, sputtering each time she caught a chance to breathe while pushing his thighs away with her hands. She almost choked each time his cock went deep, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Her body withering in hesitation as the slobbering mess tainted her pretty face.
"I warned you." Robert boomed, pausing between words as her mouth felt too good. "You can quit if you want."
"Ummp… No-oh… No-oh… I'm you-shhh…"
Hearing her response, Robert almost lost himself in the blissful massages of her small mouth, the nasty sight of his cock imprinted on her skin from inside her neck, but he didn't forget his plan. This was a show of dominance and a taste of what her life was going to be like. The goal was to make her hesitate, never seeking him out again. He wanted the Tyrells, not a woman.
As his cock moved like a relentless piston, he removed his tunic with one hand. He wasn't going to go easy on her, and he wanted her to remember it in her bones. He leaned forward, grabbed her by her waist, hugged her body against his chest, and lifted her entirely off the table.
Margaery dangled upside down as the King lifted her in the air, his hips still thrusting into her messy face. Her instinct and worry of falling caused her to clench her thighs around his face, but then she felt his hot breath on her cunt.
"Aah!" She felt his tongue slither in between her petals, slipping and sliding between her gates. The tip of his tongue twisted around her bundle of nerves with wet flicks. Her body felt hot all over, her pussy twitching in naked thirst.
"Oohh… Ummhhh… Umhum…" Her throat moaned every time Robert pulled back a bit.
Robert knew from her tone that she was losing herself to pleasure, slowly accepting everything he did to her. Easily holding her light frame with one of his powerful arms, his other hand would widen her pussy with two fingers, giving his tongue more exposed, sensitive flesh to feast on. His tongue curled inside her, slithering on her most treasured spot.
Margaery moaned through her nose, the lewdness of it all engulfing her mind. Her pussy twitching nonstop, the moans in her mouth smothered by his large cock.
But just as he sensed Margaery nearing something good, he stopped and threw her withering body on the bed, looking at her sweaty, quivering mess.
"Still want me to continue?"
Margaery, her hair a tangled mess, her face coated in a slobber, nodded as she lay there on the bed, gasping for breath.
"Not bad, I can see your determination." Robert crawled onto the bed, his giant-like form covering her entirely. He stroked his cock a few times to aim, spreading her knees open with his own knees.
As his cock head pressed against her moist core, her pink lower lips struggled to clench. Robert kept going, letting her pussy drool aid him in breaking her walls, parting her pussy lips as his cock entered her tight furnace. She was too tight, almost gripping, her muscles unyielding. He had to sit on his knees, pulling her legs closer as they spread around his waist. Her ass went up a little, resting on his powerful thighs.
"Ahhh!" Margaery cried out as the pain mixed with pleasure, her insides stretched wide to accommodate his girthy flesh sword. She was no virgin but this was… something else.
Inch by agonizing inch, it stretched her core completely, almost breaking her. It felt like she was speared, her insides screaming as her sensitive areas were splayed out for his bumps and grooves to tease.
Her pussy clenched and released, leaking out more and more of her lubricating nectar. The pain slowly faded as the pleasure engulfed her mind, her body quivering as more and more of Robert's cock entered. Her breasts heaving, her lower belly clenching hard.
"Ah, you're taking in good… a bit more and it will all be inside… like a good little whore," Robert said as he lifted both her legs from around his waist. He pulled them up, bending them into her until her knees touched her breasts, her body folded. Then he leaned in over her once more, pushing the back of her thighs against his belly.
"Ooh! Gods!" Margaery yelped as she felt his cock going in even further, plunging into her from above. Her body sank into the bed, stiffening her pleasure hole against his weight. Her helpless, folded body couldn't move anymore, giving the King an easier way to plow into her as her pussy opened up even wider. She could feel his lengthy, thick hardness nudging against her cervix, pushing against it hard and deep.
As Robert went in deeper, he suddenly felt it. Her cunt pussy gripped him as her life depended on it, spewing forth even more of her flooding fountain of life. "Well, it seems like you come too easily…"
Margaery closed her eyes and shook her head as she panted, embarrassed of how soon she came. She bit her lips and hugged her own thighs, allowing the King to feel her submission.
Robert accepted it and pulled back a little, starting the age-old rhythm of savage lovemaking. He plunged into her, using all his weight to reach the very end of her insanely tight cave of wonders. The silky smooth flesh of her inner walls milked him with gusto, each plunge tight and pleasurable.
"Ummm-aaah!"
Margaery opened her mouth in a silent scream, her entire body shuddering at the sensation. She whimpered every time he thrust in, her fingers trembling from the strength she used to grip her own thighs.
She had come once, her body easily lubing the path for her king. However, she never thought his giant cock would make her easily come twice more. With her sensitive areas spread wide, each stroke was an unbearable sensation at its peak. Her body calmed down for a short moment, but the relentless fucking was unforgiving.
"Ahhh! Noohhh….. I can't stop… coming! Noo–ooh!" She screamed to oblivion. Multiple orgasms claimed her body and a shattering release knotted up all her muscles. Her ass went up a little more, her body subconsciously wanting the ecstasy of his fat cock.
Margaery watched as Robert's eyes met hers. Her eyes were a little blurry from the tears that formed, wide and surprised at her own behavior. She tried to pull away, but Robert kept her legs between his arms and refused to let her go.
"You're so tight my little rose... Oh… So …. Good!" Robert sounded like a fiend, plunging hard into her with every word. His pelvis slammed against her ass over and over, drilling his hungry cock into her core, slapping against her cervix.
Margaery screamed once again, her insides practically flooding onto his cock. She couldn't even count how many times she had reached that blinding moment of pulsating bliss. Her toes curled at the sides of her face as she came. Finally, her body rebelled. Her legs came down forcefully from the exhaustion, sliding down back onto Robert's waist.
Robert's true lusty personality caught sight of her sweating face, feeling even more hungry and domineering like a beast toying with its prey. His lustful heart enjoyed the moment, wanting even more of her helpless cries of deliverance. He tried to take over but Ned's sane mind had learned to control it. He didn't want to scar the girl now, did he?
With his iron-hard cock still inside of her, he pushed her weak legs at the sides of his own. Robert completely hid her beneath his frame as he leaned over her panting body and started thrusting with precision. He pounded down hard in the primal position of lovemaking, a man on top of a woman, thrusting into her face-to-face.
The bedding was soft enough to not hurt her despite his weight on her. His hands molded her flesh as he suckled her breasts. He licked and kissed her neck, but avoided her lips entirely. He wanted her to remember this day, but not too fondly.
He hugged her head with his mighty arms and thrust upward, causing the bed's headboard to strike the wall with his thrust. The sounds of her squelching pussy echoed the creek of the wooden bed frame.
Margaery's moans were incoherent. Her eyes were drowsy, her mouth wide and senselessly mumbling for more. "Too big… ah, you're… so big… so deep!"
Her hands weakly held on to his waist, brushing over his skin in a bid to show affection. Her mind was drowned by the pleasure of his large cock inside her. Each strike was like a dull thump against her cervix, forcing her to come once more. But this time, she made no sound, a silent exhale of pleasure. She was spent, running on the last bit of sanity clinging to her mind. She stayed there like a fuck doll, her flushed pussy swollen red and sloppily leaking over and over on his thrusting flesh rod.
"Gkk!" Robert grunt into her neck, hugging her body underneath, his knees firmly between her quivering thighs, his massive cock sliding in deep with each thrust.
Eventually, his body craved that final release, and his pounding went even faster and harder. Their flesh collided with wet, sweaty slaps. The bed's one foot actually cracked from the heavy sways, but he kept moving on the slightly limping bed, too close to finishing.
"Gaaaaahhhh!" Margaery screamed out, her body stiffening. All her muscles protest in pain and pleasure, beating her to insanity. Her mind went black as it exploded into a thousand pieces of pleasure, leaving her vulnerable, naked, and trembling. She utterly lost it all, her consciousness slipping into a blissful, wet, and wild dream as her climax gushed through for the last time.
Robert groaned hard as he felt the extreme grip on his cock, but he held himself back. It was too early to gift her his seeds, so he immediately pulled out of her.
He didn't even have to stroke himself and sprayed a massive, thick, fat load of white batter all over her heaving belly, and small breasts, some reaching her mouth and cheeks. The pure white residue of his release contrasted against her rosy, exhausted skin.
He sat back, tired and catching his breath. He saw her cunt throbbing, a gaping entrance visible where his cock had been before, throbbing still as if searching for his plundering shaft. His girth had stretched her wide, opening her up to more than she could take. He was almost sure that he had ruined every other cock for her.
Her moans should be enough for proof.Robert shifted off the bed and poured himself a cup of wine. He gulped it down in one go.
Then he grabbed a towel and wiped himself clean before putting on his clothes again. He then walked over to the bed and cleaned up the spent climax over Margaery's belly, breasts, and face too. He felt that was the least he could do to retain some semblance of honor and sanity.
But seeing her sleeping face from up close, Robert hoped for one thing only.
This should be enough to tame her. Next time, I'll have to find a way to put a leash on her.
In the end, Robert desired control over matters.
After that, he slid back into the bed and pulled Margaery close to himself in an embrace. The girl needed to believe she had succeeded in winning the King, after all.
Cat was right… The South does change folks… for the worse.
Easing into fatigue, Robert eventually closed his eyes.
As Robert had guessed, Margaery couldn't walk straight for a day after that night.
Yet she willingly and excitedly visited him every single night and stayed in his bedchamber. Mace Tyrell was overjoyed, and certainly Margaery too as she got more than what she wanted. A king's love and a king-sized love too.
But Robert gave her everything except what she wanted—his seed.
He made love to the flower of Highgarden in all the ways imaginable. Some could be called shameful, and others ambitious. He bent her, he folded her, he pressed her around the room. On the bed, in the bathtub, on the table, by the wall, lifted in his arms.
Margaery Tyrell met a whole different Robert Baratheon and she couldn't help but slowly get addicted to seeing him each night. The way he made her squirm and climax time and time again each night, the way she'd wake up in the morning sore and fresh.
She even forgot there was a political motive behind her actions. It became a mere exchange of carnal pleasure with each other's body. She gave him her tight warm core and he gifted her his royal manhood.
Of course, Robert never lost sight of his goal. He knew what had to be done. He maintained a firm wall between his emotions and Margaery.
But it couldn't be denied that he enjoyed his nightly meetings with Margaery. Her willingness to his whims had helped him calm his thoughts and control the hidden, fiendish creature inside him.
And just like that, a week passed, nearing the day when Olenna would arrive at the Red Keep and have a serious discussion with Robert about the future.
"Your Grace, the men are ready."
"Right then, let's ride." Robert swung himself onto his horse, his eyes hardening. "We'll see what little Tyrion has managed in a year."
Around him were ten Kingsguards and more Gold Cloaks. Right beside him were Ser Barristan, Jon, and Tommen, accompanying him on his inspection of the entire city. King's Landing was his absolute possession and he hoped to make it his gold mine.
He was no trader, but he knew a thing or two about keeping order and maintaining justice.
"Barristan." Robert looked at the old man on his right. "What's your evaluation of Jon?"
Over the past week, Robert had made Ser Barristan test Jon in all the ways possible and give him a quick evaluation. The week was now over and Robert was curious what to do with the boy. He wanted to give him Dreadfort but not before preparing him for lordship.
Ser Barristan eyed Jon's horse ahead of them. "Jon is efficient but too idealistic, Your Grace. By the time he settles on a course, the troubles have grown, and blood has been spilled. He leads with his heart when the head is what the moment demands."
A fault that I also carried. The same thing that led to my end. If I hadn't gone to Cersei that day and…
"But he's a good man, Your Grace. Not one meant to be a lord or a knight, but a skilled fighter if I may add. But too indecisive when to swing it," Ser Barristan finished and eyed the King. "What's on your mind, Your Grace?"
"Can he rule the Dreadfort, Ser Barristan? What say you?" Robert asked back. "I want Myrcella to wed Jon and settle in the North. It seems the right course."
"Myrcella?" Ser Barristan pondered. "She is a fine child, full of grace. And I have no doubt that Jon will cherish her as she deserves. But I fear for him. A man who cannot separate his heart from his duty will never be a true lord. There is a time for kindness, yes, but also a time for cold steel. He must learn when to be ruthless, or else he will falter when it matters most."
Robert hummed and stared ahead at Jon and Tommen riding their horses side by side and talking. "Take me to Flea Bottom, Barristan. Let's show these boys what real misery looks like, and just how low men can crawl."
The men then rode fast into the streets of Flea Bottom. Robert hadn't been there in a long time, so at first sight, he failed to realize it was still Flea Bottom.
"Where is the filth?" Robert asked.
"Lord Tyrion took it upon himself to see it cleaned and mended," Ser Barristan explained. "He hoped to transform Flea Bottom into a place capable of producing goods for export at a cheap price. While the crime still lingers, the filth is not as overwhelming, and the food, at least, now contains true meat."
Tyrion did all this?Robert felt awe as he moved through the Flea Bottom. For the first time, he didn't hear the splash of sewer water but the clop of hooves. A pungent scent was still there but it wasn't shit anymore.
Soon enough, they came across an active crime scene too. A man just slit the throat of a cheap whore after finishing his business and refusing to pay. With Robert there, the King's justice was instant.
"Remember this, Jon. You too, Tommen. Men can bring about the worst of madness, yet at the same time," Robert swung his heavy sword, cleaving the murderer's head from his shoulders, "they're just as capable of bringing justice."
Splash!
Blood soiled the streets of Flea Bottom.
"Remember, as the King or as the Lord, my duty is not just to command, but to give these people a place where they can live in peace, without fear. My sword may have spilled blood today, but it was so that a common man could walk these streets without looking over his shoulder. Whether a whore or a noble, all fall under the protection of the Crown and the lordship."
From there, Robert moved on foot and inspected Flea Bottom. Over the day he saw many more criminals and dealt with them on the spot. He made Jon execute some too, but Tommen was too young to do it.
He made them see smallfolk without clothes begging. He made them see whores standing with their bleeding cunts, barely alive yet inviting any man that walked the street. He made them watch children play in filth, and he made them watch men gambling their lives away.
It was a long day and Robert eventually ended his excursion around evening. Along with Ser Barristan, his Kingsguard, Jon, and Tommen, he stopped at a well-off tavern for folks with more coin than most.
"Have no more than one cup of wine, lads. We still have to return to the Red Keep," Robert ordered his men and took a seat himself near the center of all the guards. He glanced at Tommen while pouring himself a drink. "Tommen, what did you do in Bear Island?"
"I fell in love."
"..."
Robert's head turned towards the eleven-year-old boy who still had milk teeth. Jon and Ser Barristan were doing the same. That wasn't the answer any of them were expecting.
"What? Child, you're one and ten," Robert awkwardly reminded him.
"Age is just a number, fath… Your Grace."
"You can call me father if it pleases you. And don't fool yourself—age is more than just a number."
Tommen puffed out his chest and replied, "But you're marrying Margaery. She's barely older than Myrcella."
When did he learn to speak like that? It's as if he grew a spine.
"Who's the girl?" Robert asked.
"Her name is Lyanna Mormont. She's a year younger than me. I swore to her that I would win five tourneys, and then, with great pride, shall take her from her home."
"Hah!" Robert bellowed, his laughter booming across the room. The others joined in, chuckling heartily. He slapped Tommen on the shoulder. "Aye, no blood of mine, but you're my boy. Jon, you'll be Tommen's sparring partner. I'll test you two every week. We can't have our Tommen fail in love, now can we?"
Clank!
"Hm?"
All of a sudden, Robert heard the sound of a coin clanking on the floor and then something hit his boot. He looked down under the table and noticed a small coin near his toe.
"What's this?" Robert muttered, alerting Ser Barristan.
The old Knight quickly grabbed the small coin and placed it on the table. "It's not a Westerosi coin. Looks like High Valyrian…"
Frowning, Robert looked at the coin closely and noticed some characters written on it. He wasn't an expert in High Valyrian, but thanks to Targaryen influence during his childhood, he knew some.
"Va... Valar? Morgh-ulis? What in the seven hells does that bloody mean?"
Robert X Myrcella artwork now up on P4-3-0n and SubStar
With 4 advance chapters, Art, and Polls to vote on your fav plot
(free examples for art on Discord)