Chapter 3. Return Of The Debaucherous King
Riverrun,
"King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North!"
"Hah!" Robb Stark's eyes sprang open, his breath unsettled despite just waking up. The morning chill was present in the room, the windows revealing his room with plenty of light. The bed creaked from his moving weight as he shifted to sit.
Knock! Knock!
"Robb, are you awake?"
"I am, Mother!"
The door opened and Catelyn Stark walked in, her complexion a mess by now. Covered neck to toe in a northern robe and cape. She looked at the bedside table and noticed an empty jar of wine with the goblet toppled over onto the floor.
She worried for her son greatly. "Have you decided how to respond to the King's raven?"
"I have." Robb looked at the folded raven on the bedside table, his expression troubled. "But I'm not sure. What would Father have done? He would have never betrayed King Robert. Yet here I stand, being called the King in the North."
Catelyn's thoughts swirled, words lost amidst the turmoil. Their situation was a double-edged sword. On one side, the Northern houses were finally united under Robb and House Stark. Yet, to press on with the war and uphold the title of King would be akin to betraying Robert Baratheon—the rightful King to whom Eddard had sworn fealty. "We need not decide at this moment."
Robb looked at her curiously.
"Robb, we can't be certain if this is truly Robert Baratheon. It could be one of Cersei's deceptions. We have to uncover the truth first and determine if the words in the raven we received hold true. The King has pledged justice for your father's murder and promised to return Sansa. Until these promises are fulfilled, we should withhold any decisions. If it's truly Robert and justice is served, I have no doubt the Northern Lords will obey your decision."
Robb pondered over it a little. He honestly didn't want to be the King in the North. He only accepted it back then because he was against the Lannisters and the King. But now, all the reasons he had vanished.
"What if it's a trap?"
"Then we kill Jaime Lannister, right before their eyes," Catelyn suggested, steady and resolute. "Cersei will feel the sting of that loss, I'm certain."
"You believe in that rumor?"
She scoffed, her voice laced with a bitter edge. "Anyone with eyes and a touch of sense would see it. Three children, and not one bears even a whisper of Baratheon traits. Compare it with yourself and your siblings."
Robb silently agreed. He had seen the children, and not one of them carried Robert's features. But there was a greater concern than the rumor itself. "The real question is whether Robert believes it as well."
"That, we shall see with our own eyes. If he forgives Joffrey for the murder of my husband, then Robert is no true King to the North."
Robb looked left and right just to ensure nobody heard his mother.
"You're coming with us?"
"I must," Catelyn replied, fire in her eyes. "For Ned…"
For Father. Robb silently nodded and shifted to fetch the paper. It was time he sent back a reply to the resurrected King.
####
Red Keep,
"So you were a smuggler once?"
Davos Seaworth, a slight man with brown eyes and an ordinary face weathered by the elements. His beard and thinning hair were peppered with gray. The man, instead of wearing the expensive attire of the lords, wore a simple brown and green wool mantle. He walked fast to keep up with the tall King, making his way through the Red Keep.
He had been informed by Stannis that he was being considered for a position in the Small Council. But he wasn't told which position. "As were many before you took the throne, Your Grace."
"How good are you with coin as an illiterate man?" Robert asked, his voice booming as usual.
Davos froze for a short moment. He just realized which seat was still empty in the Small Council. "I can count, Your Grace."
"But you can't read, can you? How in the Seven Hells will you read the ledgers or make them?" Robert scoffed. "It's like asking Varys to father children."
Davos nodded strongly. He was known for his unvarnished honesty, so he kept at it. "Your Grace, if it's the Master of Coin you're considering me for, I must decline. I'm a lord, aye, but no rich one. I simply played my hand right in the Game of Thrones and was rewarded by Lord Stannis."
Finally, Robert stopped walking as he arrived in front of a closed room with Kingsguards standing outside. He turned around to face Davos then and sized him up.
Pat!
Robert's heavy hand landed on the Onion Knight's shoulder. "You must know all the secret entries and exits to King's Landing."
"Most, I do."
"I asked Ser Barristan to take on the role of Master of Law as well, but the man's no longer young, and his duties as Lord Commander stretch him thin. Tell me, can you crush the damned smugglers and keep this city safe and in order?" Robert asked him nonchalantly.
Yet, when Davos looked at the King's eyes he saw wisdom and intent. The King wasn't offering him the job because of Stannis. The King truly believed in his abilities. Being the Master of Law was a massive undertaking. It would give him a lot of power and influence.
He gulped a little, careful. Most lords looked down on him, and yet he'd sit in the Small Council? His name would be remembered throughout history.
"Aye, Your Grace, I believe I can. Give me a few months, and if I don't bring you the results you seek, I trust you'll find another to serve as Master of Law."
Robert gave a frowning look to the Onion Knight. But in the end, he removed his hand and dismissed him. "Find Stannis and tell him my decision. Then meet with Ser Barristan to get used to the job. You probably have old friends in the city, so use them."
"Y-Your Grace!" Davos gathered some courage and stopped the King from entering that room. "I understand your desire to quell smuggling but… It exists in the first place because there is a demand. The city already suffers from a lack of food—"
Robert didn't turn around, nor did he say a lot. But the few words were enough to reveal his intent. "Sword on the neck or paying the taxes honorably—what's your choice?"
Davos pressed his lips and nodded before turning around to leave. The goal wasn't to end smuggling but to make it an actual, taxable trade.
Finally, alone, Robert looked at the two Kingsguards. "Is she in?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
The Kingsguards opened the doors quickly.
Walking in, Robert surveyed around and finally saw Sansa sitting in front of the mirror, combing her hair. Dressed in modest clothing, her eyes looked red with dark circles. It tugged a few heartstrings in Ned, or rather Robert now.
"Sansa." He called for her as softly as he could. In his heart, he wanted to go and hug his daughter and reassure her that everything would be alright. Yet he knew the boundaries he had to create being in Robert's body.
"Your Grace!" Sansa sprang to her feet, nervously.
Holding the hem of her long skirt, she bowed her head and greeted him. Fear was present in her entire gesture. Joffrey had truly damaged her even in the little time he had.
This is your fault, Robert. He blamed the previous owner of his body. How could you fail to raise a good son? How could a warrior fail like this?
"Robb and your mother are on their way here," Robert declared, his voice carrying the weight of reassurance. "Forget about Joffrey. I'm annulling your betrothal to that wretched boy. You can return home to Winterfell, where you belong."
His tone grew fiercer. "Joffrey is a twisted failure, and I'll not see the daughter of my dear friend suffer under his madness."
Sansa looked up at Robert finally, matching gaze. "I-I love Joffrey, Your Grace."
She's broken… Robert rubbed his face, feeling like an utter failure as her father. Looking at her slender, helpless form, her hair loose and a tangled mess. The lack of emotions on her face. I hope Catelyn is gentle with her going forward.
"You fear that Joffrey will be the next King?" Robert asked her. Sure enough, he noticed her flinch. "There's no need for such worry. The boy will be punished for Ned's murder, and his claim to the throne will be stripped away. You'll see justice done, mark my words."
Sansa again looked at his face as if trying to see if Robert was telling her the truth. Somehow, she felt this King was different. Other than a slight reduction in his belly size, she felt there was more warmth, kindness, and patience in him. The worry from the King felt so genuine.
"I love Prince Joffrey and I'm to be his dutiful wife."
"Enough with this madness!" Robert roared, his patience worn thin. He strode towards Sansa, his presence towering over her, and grasped her by the slender shoulders. "You don't have to marry that little shit, girl. You're free to go home! Free to be happy! You need not fear anyone!"
Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes. Was this really happening? Ever since she saw her father beheaded, she lost the sense of what was real and what was fake. Self-blame for the death of her father ate her from inside.
"There's no cage holding you now, child." Robert pulled her into a tight embrace, his large hand patting her back softly while his other hand caressed her hair. "As soon as Robb and Catelyn arrive, you'll go home with them."
Sniff!
Her snivels echoed with her face against Robert's chest. Her lithe, weak body shivered as her wails only got louder. Both her hands clenched on Robert's surcoat as the dam that she had created to lock away her sorrow burst apart.
"I-I… I killed my Father! I… It was me…"
Does that even matter anymore? You weren't the one who swung the blade. Robert hugged her tighter and consoled her. "You didn't, Sansa. They did—Joffrey and Cersei did."
She just cried. Letting out all the locked-away frustrations. The suffocation she felt in that massive castle finally went away. No more she had to accept all the torment that Joffrey would throw at her.
Robert didn't push her away either. He decided to give the entire day to Sansa. He stayed with her, spoke with her, had lunch with her, and even ordered the maids to come over and help Sansa look beautiful. He handed her Cersei's expensive clothes, and jewelry, and let her be the princess she once dreamt of being.
This should have been the reality. He thought when he saw his pretty daughter smiling brightly. Why did I ever agree to Robert's wish, to wed her to that Joffrey?
He gave his entire day to Sansa all the way till dinner. He gave her a tour of the Red Keep, showed her the dragon skulls, and plenty more. Eventually, dinner was served and he retired to his bedchamber.
Hopeful that things will turn out well.
####
The Wall,
"Jon Snow! You have a raven!"
"For me?" Jon frowned, standing atop the frozen peak of the Wall. Spine-chilling, heart-freezing cold pierced his skin like needles. Even the best fur robes didn't do much to protect them from the elements. Yet somehow, he didn't find himself complaining as much as the others.
Curious to see who sent him a raven, he climbed down the Wall through the intricate mechanics and returned to the main keep. Then, he found Maester Aemon holding the folded raven that had come for him.
"You have been summoned, Jon Snow."
Jon looked at the snarling face of Alliser Thorne. "To where?"
"King's Landing," Maester Aemon added weakly. "The raven bore the seal of the King Robert Baratheon."
Jon frowned deeply. "But he's… dead."
"Not anymore. The word across the realm is that King Robert was buried alive, but he somehow broke through the crypt with his sheer strength." Jeor Mormont, the current Lord Commander of the Watch said, taking the folded parchment and raising it towards Jon. "I don't know why you are summoned, but the King has demanded that you be spared from taking the Oath."
"But I have already taken the—"
"The King offers food, fur, and fire in return," Jeor interrupted him.
Jon's breath grew heavy. "B-But the Oath is ancient! It's sacred!"
"It's nonsense," Alliser growled at him. "Men break the Oath every day as many times as they piss. Mole's Town is like a second home to men here for reasons you know. We'd rather have more food and clothes than a young bastard."
Jon glared at the man a little, but he was used to controlling his anger. This wasn't the first time someone had mocked his bastard status.
"Jon, I think you should go," Jeor Mormont suggested. "Maester Aemon thinks the same."
"But why? There's nothing for me in the south. I'm a bastard with no claims to anything." Jon still protested. He had already brainwashed himself about joining the Night's Watch for months already. "This place is my home."
"Often, fate works in ways beyond our understanding. The King summons you to King's Landing, Jon. It is your destiny to heed his call," Maester Aemon said. Jon didn't doubt the man's wisdom. Even without eyes, he saw things others didn't. "You can always join the Night's Watch in the future."
"What of the Oath?"
"What oath?" Alliser asked back.
Jon got the message and sighed, a troubled expression adorned his pale face. It was impossible to force himself to stay now. If he did, he'd be hated for refusing the King's gifts.
"Then… I'll go."
####
Back in King's Landing, another morning dawned. King Robert lay in his large bed, sprawled and sweating as the nightmares haunted him. Yet, halfway through, those nightmares turned into something welcoming. A touch from his beloved Catelyn, an intimate moment with his wife.
"Ugh!" He groaned, the hotness of her tight mouth was too wonderful. This was it, the secret behind a beautiful, successful marriage. He was a Lord and she was a Lady during the day, but in the bedroom, they were nothing but lovers. No shame, only pleasure.
"Cat!" He mumbled her name with love. The strong suckles of her lips stretched his sizable cock with each pull of her lips. His veins received the heavenly massage while she also cupped his balls in one palm.
Beautiful! Ned thought, watching his wonderful wife on her knees between his legs. The proud Catelyn Stark letting him see a sight of her that only he had the privilege of seeing.
Soon enough, the intense sucking, messy squelching of spit, and pre-cum combined turned musky. She drove him to the edge and kept him there as if aware of his limit. She paced herself fast and slow as per need, constantly twirling her hot tongue around the rim of his cock, at times probing her tip into the little slit on his cockhead.
Oh, how she made his knees weak. He felt throbs in his abdomen, the need for a release was just so much.
"Mmmm… Yesss… Your Grace! Give it to me-eeeh~!"
Your Grace? His eyes shot open abruptly just as he went past that edge. His balls burst with an intense jetting spray of his virile thick seed, pumping right into the hot embrace of the mouth around his cock.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Robert boomed, his head raised and glancing down over his protruding belly. Yet it was impossible to pull back an arrow once released. His balls jumped in joy and his cockhead flexed into her tight mouth. Rope after rope of white fluid filled the girl to the brim until her cheeks bloated.
"Uuugh… Speak, woman!"
"Ummmmh… Your Grace." She took a moment to recover, her eyes darting nervously as she swallowed down the King's potent gift, rinsing her mouth with deliberate, hesitant motions. "I am… mm… Alayaya."
Robert frowned, staring at her unclothed form. She looked young, slender with perky breasts, perhaps in her early twenties. Beautiful without a doubt, skin smooth and black as polished onyx, and wide dark eyes. Obviously short to him, with a beaded belt cinched at her waist. "Who?"
Alayaya showed a face of confusion at that. She looked down at the King's cock still in her hands, despite having turned flaccid it was comparable to some unremarkable men's full erect size.
"Speak!" Robert boomed.
Alayaya gathered her thoughts and answered respectfully. "Your Grace, I'm the daughter of Chataya, the owner of Chataya's Brothel—your favorite brothel. T-This is how you like being woken up on the first day of every new week, Your Grace. I… I just—"
Seven hells, Robert! Inside that body, Eddard cursed his dear friend. But he no longer bore any anger towards the girl. She was merely doing what Robert had normalized. Pure debauchery. What else is there that I don't know?
The troubling part was that Robert was drunk so many times that even the memories weren't much of help.
"Don't do this again." Robert finally sat up on the bed and threw the quilt around Alayaya's young, dusky body.
Alayaya frowned and tried to pacify the King, managing her accented voice as best as she could. "D-Did you not like it, Your Grace? May I send someone else? Perhaps the brown-haired and gray-eyed Jayde? She's your favorite, Your Grace."
Brown hair and gray eyes? Robert scowled upon hearing that. That's Lyanna's features. Robert, you… You stuck up bastard!
"No, I won't be needing your services anymore. You should leave now." Robert ordered her sternly and slid off the bed to make himself proper again. It was time to focus more on refining the mess of a body he was inside.
Alayaya stared at Robert for a few moments, unable to match the image of this Robert with the one she had seen before. Normally the King used to start his morning with a fresh goblet of wine and a tight cunt on his cock.
"I understand, Your Grace." Nevertheless, she donned her clothes quickly and left.
Thud!
Robert slumped into a chair once she was gone. Brows creased together, his teeth clenched tight. He felt disgusting, a failure of a man and a husband. His thoughts told him this was wrong, yet… he could feel his cock gaining size again.
What is wrong with Robert's body? Why such high libido and craving for wine? Why does it betray my control? He pondered deeply, remembering the face of Catelyn he saw in the dream. Please forgive me.
The bitter truth was that he could never be together with Catelyn again. The cold hard fact he had accepted already. But despite not wanting to betray the memory of his love for Catelyn, he found himself doing that already.
I need to change this body.
Training and forging Robert's body to its past glory was the only solution he could think of.
Sadly, he conveniently forgot that whoring and wine were simply second nature to Robert long before he even became the King.
Gods give me strength.
####
A week passed, thankfully without any unwanted intimate incidents. Robert felt wonderful at that time, focusing on sparring with Ser Barristan and fixing the issues that plagued the realm one at a time. His body craved wine the most, but he fought against it and never touched a single goblet.
Food contained plenty of healthy items, yet lavish. It was no longer hard for him to imagine why Robert had grown so fat so quickly before. A King had access to luxuries that most others don't. A King has men working under him to run the realm. Meanwhile, mere lords couldn't afford such luxuries, especially in the cold North where everything was scarce.
It was a normal morning this time. He woke up, cleaned up, and got dressed. Right away, he headed out to hold the regular daily Small Council meeting in the morning to get the day started.
"They're waiting for you, Your Grace."
Robert reached the entrance to the Small Council, its door left slightly open while Ser Barristan waited for him outside.
Thud!
"Be careful with your next words!"
Robert frowned at the loud voice from inside the room. "Why's Stannis fuming?"
Ser Barristan awkwardly responded. "Lord Varys is… sharing some rumors that are being spread about you."
"Me?" Robert frowned and got a little closer to the door to listen better. He could make out the voices clearly at that point.
"My Lord, I'm but a humble spymaster, tasked with hearing the whispers of the streets. While the smallfolk may seem content, those of higher stature harbor doubts about whether this is truly Robert Baratheon. The whores who once lingered within the Red Keep, tending to the King for days on end, have now departed, no longer summoned to his side."
"Is there a fault in that?" Davos' voice rang out. "His Grace convenes the Small Council daily now, showing a keen interest in the governance of the realm. I see no cause for complaint in that."
"Neither do I," Varys replied. "But you can't silence the tongues of those who prattle too much. It's in our nature, like a moth to a flame, to be drawn to the forbidden whispers of conspiracies."
"And what's the conspiracy you talk of?" Stannis sternly inquired.
Vays coughed to clean his throat first. "That… that the King is a mere puppet installed by the Lannisters, driven by the shadows of doubt cast over the legitimacy of the Princes and Princess' blood."
"So you want him to return to whoring and wine?" Stannis glared at the eunuch. "The very thing that brought the crown to the brink of bankruptcy? Robert has changed because of a near-death experience, there is nothing more to it."
"His Grace has faced countless battles, my Lord, with the struggle against Prince Rhaegar being particularly fierce, as the tales recount. Those who have indulged in a lifetime of wine and pleasures do not transform with such swiftness—It would be prudent for His Grace to maintain at least a semblance of his former self until the realm finds its footing once more." Varys concluded and looked towards the door of the Small Council chamber as if aware that the King was there. "Sometimes there is more to gain from the facade of weakness than a genuine show of might."
What's he up to? Robert had enough and stepped into the chamber. He eyed Varys before taking his seat. Who's spreading the rumors?
In silence, Robert glanced at everyone's faces there. The seat of Master of Coin and Grand Maester remained empty, along with the seat of the Hand of the King. Robert wanted to fill them but had no clue who to place there.
For a moment he looked at the empty seat of the Lord Hand. He had to agree that Tyrion was doing a decent job. But, he didn't want to trust a Lannister, especially for what he had in plan for them. So a few names flashed in his mind.
The first was Stannis, a man known for truly being just. But at times his inflexible personality could pose a problem. No, he wanted someone he already knew. Someone he also understood. Someone honorable, respected and quick-headed.
Ser Brynden Tully—A veteran of half a hundred battles.
He finally settled on one name for the time being. But he still had no name for Master of Coin, a very crucial position.
"How far is Robb Stark now?" Robert asked to get the meeting going.
"They must have crossed Harrenhal by now, Your Grace," answered Varys.
"And Lord Tywin?"
Varys looked amused at the King's guess. He wasn't wrong. "The whispers tell of a small regiment being mustered, poised to march on King's Landing. The recent purging of Lannister influence from the Red Keep and the city has not sat well with Lord Tywin."
Robert scoffed, a hearty laugh escaping his lips. "Good, that spares me from inviting that old bastard. Now, what's the latest word on that Targaryen girl over in Essos?"
"She has hatched dragon eggs, Your Grace. Such is the whisper," Varys answered.
"Hah!" Davos chortled. "Another one of your rumors? Dragons are nothing but myths now."
"Varys, do whatever is needed and get me confirmation. Does she have dragons or not?" Robert ordered all of a sudden, surprising everyone.
Was it the birth of dragons that caused this? Robert had a very strong reason to trust the whispers. After all, he who had died was now sitting in the dead body of Robert as if his own. The magic has returned and is stronger.
"As you wish, Your Gr—"
Bam!
Bam!
"Nooo! Let me in! I must speak to Father!"
The commotion outside the Small Council chamber gained everyone's attention. The screeching voice was easy to recognize as there was only one man in the Red Keep who could scream that loud and unremarkably.
"Barristan," Robert ordered.
The Lord Commander got up and opened the door. There was Joffrey, fighting the two Kingsguards who had caught his arms. He jumped around, swung his legs, and hit the door a few times.
"Father! Please let me speak!"
"Let him in!" Robert coldly ordered.
Finally freed, Joffrey ran into the Small Council chamber. But he didn't really have a plan in mind, so when he reached Robert, he just froze there in fear. Robert was the only man he truly feared, after all.
"F-Father! How dare they! They've locked your son in a room like some common criminal! The food they serve me is fit only for swine, and they mock me at every turn! Punish them, I command you! They dare to mock the Crown Prince—your own flesh and blood! They shall pay dearly for their insolence!" Joffrey's voice cracked with rage, his face contorted in a tantrum as he flailed in indignation.
Robert remained unmoved. "You command me? Boy, I ordered them to lock you."
"W-What?" Joffrey cowered back on his feet. "W-Why?"
He's just a child. Robert reminded himself again and again. That face, that pubescent voice was so irritating and enraging. He's merely a child!
"I want to see Mother, now!" Joffrey snarled, his voice dripping with menace. "Where is she? What have you done to my Mother? If you've harmed her, know that grandfather will make you pay dearly for i—"
The King's chair scraped across the marble floor with a thunderous clamor.
Robert Baratheon rose to his full height, a mountain of fury, casting a shadow over Joffrey's meager frame. His eyes blazed with anger, veins throbbing beneath his skin. "Boy, you forfeited any right to command when you murdered Ned and plunged the realm into turmoil! Then you dared to defile Sansa, to disgrace a noble lady before the common folk—Have you lost your wits so completely that you've forgotten why a rebellion bearing my name erupted in the first place?"
Joffrey knew he was treading a dangerous path. But a boy who never knew the consequences of his actions also didn't know when to shut up. "Ned was a traitor! He dared to plot and seize my throne! And Sansa is my wife! I shall do as I please with her—bed her, strip her, o—'"
PA!
"YOU FILTH!" Robert slapped, and any semblance of control was lost. His precious Sansa's name being uttered by that filthy incest spawn enraged him. "The Mad King died because he did as he pleased! He killed, he ravaged the realm! You! You may be worse!"
"You hit me!" Joffrey roared in pain, feeling some fluid ooze out of his nostrils.
PA!
A second slap connected, stronger than the last one. Joffrey got thrown across the room as the entire massive, calluses-filled palm struck his right cheek. The skin ruptured on contact, his ear possibly damaged, and his right eye also swole.
Thud!
Joffrey fell to the floor in pain, holding his face.
"I should have done this years ago." Robert bellowed, controlling himself from stomping on his face and ending the filth's misery quickly. "Barristan, break his legs if he tries to leave his room again."
Barristan moved quickly. Although he held no respect for Joffrey and even knew about his true blood status, it was still his duty. He grabbed Joffrey's arms and dragged him out of the room before lifting him up with the help of other Kingsguards.
It took Robert long moments to calm his breath. This body is too easy to provoke.
"Dismissed… Go away," he ordered the rest of the council.
The chairs moved quickly and one after another the rest of the members left. Yet, Stannis remained seated, unmoving as if he had something to say, his face sullen.
Robert noticed his presence. "What's the bad news?"
"Renly," Stannis spoke with grim resolve. "Renly refuses to return with the Baratheon soldiers. He remains camped with the Tyrells. According to the reports of his own soldiers, the Tyrells are not without ambition. They had planned to wed Margaery Tyrell to Renly, seeking to cement their name within the Red Keep. It seems they want to first ascertain that you're indeed Robert and not some ploy devised by Cersei."
Renly, you fool! Robert clenched his fist, his voice a rumbling thunder. "Without Baratheon soldiers, this city is naught but a prize for the taking. If Tywin dares to strike, we'll be left with no men to hold the line."
"I know," Stannis replied with stern resolve. "Renly's actions are nothing short of treachery, Your Grace. He endangers your very life for the sake of his own ambitions to wear the crown."
Be quick, Robb.
"Let's hope the Starks arrive before Tywin." Robert hoped and stood up. "As for Renly… He's no child now. Treason… there is a limit to how much I can tolerate."
Stannis nodded coldly but added nothing. If he were the King, he'd have already excommunicated Renly of all his titles and rights.
Lost in his thoughts, Robert strolled to the door. As he walked out, Ser Barristan joined his side as his Kingsguard.
"Ser Barristan, are the rumors real?" Robert asked the loyal man.
Ser Barristan agreed right away. "They are, Your Grace. Even the Kingsguards feel that way. They were the closest to you in the past and… saw your day-to-day life. They're now curious as you don't drink or dine with women anymore."
The whoring again. He frowned. When did you become this immoral, my friend?
He failed to realize that Robert was always that immoral. It was just his martial ambition that kept it in check. In Ned's eyes, Robert was too close for him to realize his friend's shortcomings.
"If that's the case then we need to put an end to such rumors. Especially when we lack soldiers." Robert made up his mind, albeit with a heavy heart. "I need you to visit the Street of Silk."
"For what, Your Grace?"
"For…"
####
That same night, Robert returned to his bedchamber late. For the first time in weeks, he gulped down one cup of strong wine. He needed it for his next course of immoral actions. I'm really doing this…
Clack!
Seated in a comfortable cushioned chair beside the bed, Robert looked at the door as it swung open. He felt his heart racing at the sight of a slender, dark-skinned girl entering. She was indeed a beauty of an exotic kind. The flowing gown was tight and accentuated her grace and beauty.
"Alayaya? Was that your name?" Robert asked her.
"It is, Your Grace." She turned to lock the door behind her.
"Don't! Leave the door wide open." Robert ordered all of a sudden, feeling much shame in his action. Sitting in nothing but his loose tunic and breeches, he hated the erection that was already nearing its peak.
Alayaya giggled and strolled closer to Robert. Walking around the bed, then towards his chair. As she walked, she untied the strings tying her gown and allowed it all to fall around her fine toes. She walked over to it, devoid of any smallclothes.
All naked, slim waist, curving hips, and small breasts. Robert felt guilt at the thought of laying with her. She seemed too slender for his size. But again, he realized most women were.
I have to do this. At least until I deal with the Lannisters. Robert reminded himself and raised his tunic, removing it with one quick motion. Without standing up, he raised his hips and pulled down his breeches. In no time he sat on the chair as naked as the woman cat-walking towards him.
"Ummm…" Alayaya's eyes focused on the infamous royal cock. "H-How would you like to have me, Your Grace? Should I… prepare you?"
"No need," Robert responded, embarrassed. "I'm ready."
"Oooh~ Of course." Alayaya reached Robert, finding his tall frame, even when sitting, reached to her chin while she stood. She gulped and softly, sweetly pressed her dainty hands on his shoulder. Then, she tried to straddle his lap.
Robert let out a long breath at that. "Hmm… Be loud."
"Yesss~!" She obliged and started rubbing herself back and forth, drenching Robert's cock horizontally under her cunt. Her lips reached for his neck, soaking him in her heat. She did feel overwhelmed by his entire size, be it cock or body as she could feel she'd vanish if the man was to hug her tight. But there was excitement in that dangerous exchange.
"Ooooh! So biiiig~"
She reached down between her toned belly and Robert's less-than-athletic one. Her fingers grabbed his cock and failed to even squeeze half of the thickness. But she felt adventurous and raised herself up to aim better.
Her gulp was audible when the monstrous cockhead tried to spread her tight, dark brown lips apart. "Ummmmmgh… Oh oh… This will be…"
"Painful?" Robert felt guilty.
"Aaaah! Yesss~" Alayaya pushed herself down, taking the bulging purple cockhead in with great effort. She felt so full, so spread apart that her breath became choppy. But she only giggled in ecstasy. "Ahhhh… P-Painfully… good!"
Good?
At that moment, Robert realized how greatly he underestimated this beautiful, dark beauty. His own gulp became audible as he felt her cunt tightly clamping and swallowing him deeper. So warm, so tight, the throbs, the scraping against his foreskin inside—it felt like heaven. So much so that his own breath turned choppy.
"Aaaaah! Yo-ooooh~ Graaace~" Alayaya raised her hips a little and slammed herself down hard, plunging her cunt onto his royal cock.
Robert… Eddard's soul couldn't sit silent anymore. Just a little, but I think now I understand why you—uh—lost yourself to th-this.