Chapter 4. The Lion's Wager
Clap!
Clap!
The echoes of flesh against flesh melted with the melodious moans that came out of Alayaya's scorching lips. Her slender, strong arms rested against Robert's broad shoulders as she pulled herself up and down on his behemoth of a cock. His thighs were so big, meaty, and muscular that Alayaya had to keep herself on her toes or risk falling on his cock and taking those few leftover inches in.
She planned to take them in, but not this soon. Being a whore didn't mean she had an endless cave of wonders. It still needed stimulation, love, and attention to loosen up to her night's lover.
"Aaaah~ Oh, you're biii-ugh, Your Grace!" Alayaya moaned loudly, just as Robert had ordered her to. But she still noticed the lack of enthusiasm and response from the King. It felt like she was merely jumping on a wooden stick with nothing attached to it.
She frowned, worried the King wasn't pleased. So she moaned even louder. "Yesssss~ Good good… So good! So full! It's like… oooh it'll stretch me to ruin… mmh!"
Right then she felt an intense twitch from the thick shaft in her cunt. It excited her; finally a response from the King.
No man could ward off arousal when a fine woman like Alayaya grounded her slobbering cunt round and round with each plunge. She took more of him in, slowly inching herself closer to the hilt and accepting the King's need to the brim.
It wasn't easy for her. Alayaya's brows remained wrinkled the whole time. Albeit the intense wave of pleasure, the stretching of her walls stung at times. The King's size wasn't something she had experienced before. Nor had the King ever desired to lay with her before.
She never stopped screaming in pleasure. Sure that her moans must have alerted half the castle already. Sure that the two Kingsguards standing outside the wide open door must have cocks as hard as their sheathed swords.
"My King~" Alyaya leaned into Robert, squeezing her magnificent breasts against his upper belly, her fingers circling around his nipples, her lips pecking over his neck just below his beard, sliding her tongue all over and earning the King's goosebumps. It was her own need now to see the King react. To have him hold her waist between his strong hands.
That entire time Robert's face was turned towards his left, at the wall where a tall dressing mirror was set. His entire form, along with Alayaya fucking herself on his cock was visible to him in great detail.
Yet, he found himself frozen. His mouth was dry, and his lips glued together. The man in that mirror was Eddard Stark? Was this a hallucination? It didn't matter anymore as he saw Eddard glaring at him, frowning at the act being done.
Why are you glaring? It was your foolish honor that got you killed. Your selfish 'honor' that left Sansa without a father, Arya lost, my son waging a war he can't win, Catelyn a widow, and the North without a leader. You have no right to judge me!
It was wonderful how a single glass of wine was able to put him in that state. Or perhaps it wasn't the work of the wine.
I am now Robert Baratheon, and I must do everything I need to protect this realm and the North. He continued to speak within his mind. Addressing himself, trying to justify this sexual exchange. Cersei was different for it was pure wrath and hatred. This was a fully conscious decision. A conscious decision to cheat on Catelyn. Eddard Stark is dead, and his honor died with him.
I am Robert Baratheon.
"I am…" Robert continued to stare at himself in the mirror. That face of Eddard Stark vanished with ripples, and finally, he saw himself—beard, large framed. His hands urgently arose and finally cupped Alayaya's dusky, curvy waist. His face finally turned towards her, her eyes half-shut in mind-breaking pleasure. "Robert Baratheon!"
So delicate. Robert felt a surge of arousal wash over him. His palms spread, and they covered the majority of Alayaya's toned belly. Far more than a foot shorter than him, he felt so… invincible holding her. The tight clenches around his shaft were just the cherry on top. So this is what you always felt, Robert? Invincible while fucking women for none could ever match your size and strength?
But he swallowed his thoughts and controlled himself. Although he had taken the same path as Robert by sleeping with a whore. It didn't have to be savage and brutish like Robert. That essence of sanity he still hoped to keep.
"Alayaya," Robert called her name, his arms slowly gliding to her warm back, then gently tracing her ass and holding them. "I… It'll hurt."
"Oooh!" Alayaya's eyes opened wide for this was the moment she was waiting for. She completely sat down on his cock, at last, weighing herself on his length and taking him all to the bulging hilt. She gasped and moaned the loudest at the full sensation that gripped away her sanity. Her arms hugged the King's neck tight, surrendering herself to his love. "I… Aaaah… Gods! I'm yours to m-make use of, Your Grace!"
She's… Clenching harder. Robert groaned and pulled her body tighter against his chest. His hands cupped her asscheeks harder and with a sudden move, he stood up to his full height, holding the woman in his arms so easily, his cock still speared to the end. Let's not kill her.
"Ugh… Tight! Your cunt's…" Robert tried to imitate his usual crass speech so the Kingsguard would listen outside. "Squeezing my cock dry…."
He flexed himself inside, and handled her body with ease, raising her ass and letting gravity do its magic. The guilt that plagued him until a moment ago was lost to the pleasure, her moans did their magic right into his ears.
The heated rush slowly got to his head and the slow fucking turned relentless. Alayaya just dangled there in his arms, getting rammed balls deep with each thrust. Her fingers clawed on his sweaty back, repeatedly adjusting her slipping grip.
Her eyes went shut, jaw hanging open as her moans turned into a subconscious reflex, the pitch going high every time he slammed himself in.
Robert felt energized, however. As if this cunt was all he needed to get back in the right mood.
Still sane, he walked closer to the wide open door of his room and made sure the men outside heard the squelching sounds, even the sliding of his girth in her tightness was audible.
"Uuugh! You're one feisty whore!" Robert groaned, feeling her third climax oozing out on his length, dripping with more of her cream that was only lube for him. "Sleep here if you must—by the gods, you'll be too sore to move come morning."
"Aaaah! Ummmgh… Yes, yes, yesssss~" Alayaya only knew a few words to scream on repeat.
Robert knew not how much time had passed. He reckoned an hour or close perhaps? His own appetite shocked him, and at last, he started feeling her weight in his arms. Many times he thought of laying her on the bed and doing her there. But he couldn't bring himself to strangle the life out of her under his weight. The goddamn belly had to go, and soon.
For now, he settled to finish her in that same position. Her moans had turned senseless at that point, just mumbling loud nonsense. It was unknown how many times she came on his cock, but he knew he was about to flip over the edge and pour the life out of his balls in her cunt.
"Therrrre… you-uh go!" Robert lowered her a little and his back arched.
The first release after an hour of relentless fucking, a sweaty sore mess of his and her body. At last, he let go of that tingling sensation. But it came too strong and made his knees buck, his hips squeezed tight and his cock sealed itself deep inside to kiss her cervix and spill the royal seeds into her womb.
Alayaya was paid well and for good reason. The rushing, pumping cream jetted out in ropes, filling her to the brim until much of it began leaking out and trickling to his balls before dripping to his feet. There was no fear of her surprising him with a babe, she was paid for it, and knowing that made finishing inside the dusky, Summer Islander whore even more pleasurable.
"Argh… Seven hells that was good!" Robert bellowed in pleasure and walked to his bed at last. His cock still lost inside her cunt, he waited for it to go limp and slip out. Until then he took her beautiful face and those dangling breasts in view.
Eyes half open, Alayaya smiled, her skin flushed. She pulled herself closer to his chest and daringly pecked on his lips. An attempt to slide her tongue in was made, but she gained no grounds. "You… I've never been this… Not like this."
"Sore?" Robert finished her words, smirking. "Get used to it."
"I can't wait," she whispered back.
Robert chuckled and gently laid her down on the bed. The woman fell asleep right away, not even bothering to clean herself or pull up the quilt.
Is this how you lived, Robert? He wondered. But deep down, he knew it was worse since he also had those memories. The bed needed two more whores and three empty jars of wine, and two filled ones to truly match the real Robert Baratheon. But he chose to not go that far.
This should be enough to shut them up for a moon. Robert mumbled and approached the door to finally shut it close.
But just as he walked back, he passed the same mirror, and in an instant, his mood was spoiled. Looking at himself in it, that tall, broad, unhealthy form with that nasty beard made him angry. If Robert had done his job well as the King, none of this would have happened.
"Haaaa…" In frustration, he got close to the mirror, framed with wood.
It was massive as the dressing table was attached to it. Nonetheless, he dragged it on the marble floor closer to the edge of the balcony attached to the room. Then, he used the Baratheon muscles for good and tossed the whole thing out onto the rocks by the sea.
Clapping his hands clean, he finally got into his bed and tried to sleep.
Of course, how could the nightmares of death not plague him? That cold sword on his nape. The moment of that stinging pain before everything went black.
How could he ever forget his own beheading?
When Robert woke up in the morning, he still felt sore around his loins. But he dragged himself out of the bed and donned some simple clothes. The Chataya's finest was still sleeping soundly, so he didn't disturb her sleep.
In silence, he tidied himself without a mirror and walked out of his room. The Kingsguards shift had changed and now Barristan was standing there outside.
"Your Grace," Barristan bowed his head. "I trust that the night was well spent in your favor?"
Robert let out a chortle and began walking to his private dining room. "Did you hear it?"
"She had a… serenading voice," Barristan awkwardly answered. "I beseech you to show mercy on men if you find them dozing. Their night was… lonely."
"Hah!" Robert laughed openly at that. Wasn't that what he wanted from the start? "What of Tommen and Myrcella? I hope they didn't hear my… Actions."
"You still favor them?"
"I don't, Barristan. But unlike Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella have the makings of decent souls. As for their fate, I'll need to hear Jamie's wails before I make any judgments," Robert declared with a steely glint in his eye. "We'll see how the kids come to terms with their lineage. If there's any hint of vengefulness... Well, the Night's Watch and the Silent Sisters have plenty of space for more."
"You have been good to the two, Your Grace." Ser Barristan reassured him just as they entered the dining room.
"Father!"
Tommen and Myrcella were already there, waiting for their morning meals. Both looked innocent, Tommen's feet dangling while Myrcella made him sit up like a strict older sister.
Robert warmly greeted them and took a seat for himself. Right away he was served with fine bread, cheese cubes, a dozen sausages and bacon strips, an egg pudding, and a large glass of milk. Yes, that was Robert's morning diet, a necessary requirement for that large body. Especially now as he attempted to lose some fat and gain back the muscles.
"Father," Tommen voiced suddenly. "I heard crying foxes last night?"
"Pfft!" Robert spat a mouth full of milk. Behind him, Ser Barristan held back his chuckle, while the servants rushed to clean the table.
Robert coughed and nodded, a gruff edge to his voice. "Aye, the fox is caught and dealt with. Your cats are safe now; no harm will come to them."
"Really? That's good. I hugged them in bed last night." Tommen brimmed with a smile and continued eating his breakfast.
Robert also silently devoured his meal. The day ahead was going to be long as guests were expected to arrive. Finally, Eddard Stark's murderers were going to be brought to justice.
Soon enough, Tommen finished his meal and ran back to play with his cats.
Meanwhile, Myrcella was visibly delaying finishing her meal. It was just a single sausage that she had been eating in tiny bites, as if waiting for something. Even when Robert finished his breakfast, Myrcella was still finishing the sausage.
"What? Do you wish to speak on something?" Robert inquired bluntly. The Robert of old might have been a fool, too deep in his cups to see anything but the bottom of a tankard. But now, he could sense the unease that gripped her every fiber.
Myrcella flinched and finished taking the last bite. At last, she looked up, her eyes watery, staring at Ser Barristan and the maids in the dining room.
Ser Barristan didn't need the King to speak and quickly ordered the maids to empty the place. He also left then and stood outside the door, guarding.
"Go on then," Robert relaxed back in his seat. "What is it?"
Myrcella evaded looking at Robert. She constantly stared at the empty plate. "I… Is it true that… t-that you're not my father?"
Robert froze for a short moment there. Of all things, this wasn't what he was expecting. What a smart girl. She realized it all on her own? Or did she see something?
"How did you find out?"
Myrcella gulped and answered truthfully. "Uncle Jaime and mother… They meet often in secret and I once saw them l-like lovers. Is Uncle Jaime our father? Are we going to be locked up like Mother and Joffrey?"
Robert saw the fear on her face and chose to be a little softer with her. He couldn't care less if Cersei cheated on Robert for he was not that man. To him, Cersei's crimes were far greater. "Aye, you speak the truth. Cersei's betrayal was a bitter draught, and she made no bones about it—confessed to sharing her bed with Jaime since they were merely four and ten. But her treachery runs deeper than mere infidelity, and Joffrey's sins are no less grievous."
Myrcella shivered in fright at that. "T-Then… What is to happen to us, Your Grace?"
Creak!
Robert rose up all of a sudden and walked around the table. He stood close beside Myrcella and caressed her hair, the golden locks he didn't like much nowadays. Yet, he saw for who she was; A child just a little younger than Sansa. A child far better and gentler than Joffrey.
"Look here, Myrcella," he called, though his voice softened as he spoke to the child. "You've been my daughter for thirteen years, and nothing can alter that truth. Our blood may not match, but the bond remains unchanged. Even without any birthright, you are welcome to live here as a princess. Live, read, write, study, and grow as you will. Find joy, find love, and marry for it if you wish. Just don't lay the sins of your mother at my feet."
"I won't!" She promised, aware that bastards don't really get to live a good life. "I'm not like Joffrey. He's the worst."
"The entire King's Landing knows." Robert stopped caressing her head. "Go and play with Sansa. She'd like to have some company around her age."
"I can play with her?"
"Cersei didn't let you?" Robert frowned.
"No, she never allowed me to go near her."
That incestuous whore. Robert controlled his rage with great effort. "You can play with her as much as you want. Take Tommen as well, and... Make an effort to rein in your younger brother. His fate hinges on how he handles the retribution I will deliver to Cersei and Jaime. Will he seek vengeance? Or will he accept the dishonor done to the Crown?"
"I-I will keep that in mind, fath—Your Grace." Myrcella nodded many times and rushed away from the dining room.
Robert sighed at her nervous walk. Myrcella and Tommen were mere children, and they had lived all their lives in great luxury. Sending them to Silent Sisters and the Night's Watch was the last option he kept on the list.
"Ser Barristan." He stepped out of the room and ordered his Kingsguard. "Start Tommen's training at once. He has no birthright, but he can still become a knight one day. He's still young enough to be shaped into a loyal warrior for the Crown."
"What if he raises the blade against you?" Ser Barristan asked.
"Then the warhammer will deal with him."
The Reach,
Coiled together in the bed, Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell stared at each other's faces after an act worthy of execution in the eyes of the Faith. Smiling with no worries, the room lit with candlelight and the aroma of roses.
"Margaery can't wait to see you with the crown, Renly," Loras claimed.
Renly smirked boastfully, sure of his future fortunes. "And I can't wait to see you as my Kingsguard. Soon enough, everything will fall into its place. Robert—whoever that imposter is, can never stand before the Lannisters. King's Landing will be under my army swiftly."
"Hmm… I can't wait."
Back in King's Landing, the final rats that still followed the Lannisters were finally weeded out. The city fell completely into Robert's hands with that. And right at that time, the visitors from the North entered the city.
In the throne room, Robert waited for Robb Stark to make an entrance. There were no other witnesses present, just Robert and his Small Council alongside the guards.
"How many men did he bring?" Asked Robert.
"Five hundred, Your Grace. Yet, it appears that the majority have chosen to remain beyond the city gates," Lord Varys replied smoothly. "Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn advance towards the Red Keep, accompanied by a mere fifty men."
Five hundred? He's underestimating King's Landing. Robert scrutinized his 'son'. He's not fit to rule yet.
"What of Tywin?"
"He's a day away from reaching here, Your Grace."
Then the execution can be held the day after tomorrow. Robert made plans and soon noticed a commotion near the entrance of the throne room. He felt his heart beat fast in expectation of seeing his family. Yet he also forced himself to look sullen and Robert-like.
Heavy footsteps resounded soon enough.
Robert rose from his throne and stepped down to the main floor to get the quickest glimpse of his son and wife.
"Gods be good! You made it safely here!" Robert bellowed as soon as the small entourage entered. He walked hastily, approached Robb, and pulled the boy into a warm hug. "How are you, my boy?"
He gulped in silence, noticing the subtle changes in his son. The eyes no longer belonged to a boy, but a leader. The firmness was piercing, and the coldness in his being was disheartening.
But Robert finally looked to the side, behind him. He clenched his fists tight to stop himself from going ahead and embracing the woman. Catelyn looked so tired, her beautiful eyes seemed to have lost their shine. It ached him to see her paler and skinnier too.
Seven hells, Robert. Why die to a fucking boar for this? He found himself cursing his old friend. I can't even hold my family close anymore. My own wife…
"My lady," he greeted her solemnly and focused back on Robb. "Where's the Kingslayer?"
"Where's Sansa?" Robb asked back—loud. Catelyn seemed to not like that and held her son's arm to keep him in control.
The anger is justified, my son.
"She's with Myrcella. Worry not, for I have summoned her," Robert declared, stepping away with a commanding air. "If you've got Jaime held outside these walls, I suggest you bring him in. The old lion's on his way, and his only concern now is his son."
Robb looked at his mother and noticed her nod. Was it a nod of affirmation, that this was indeed Robert Baratheon?
"I'll give the order once I see my sister," Robb insisted.
I'd have done the same. Robert thought and returned to his throne to sit down. He waited, and waited, the entire time locking eyes with Catelyn Stark. So much he wanted to say to her, and nothing he could do. No matter how much one believed in miracles of the Old Gods and the New, his resurrection in Robert's body was going to be dismissed with ridicule.
Can we ever be together again as one? He wondered, holding her close to his heart. How could he forget her after having five children with her? They weren't made out of necessity, after all. The passion was real.
"ROBB! Mother!"
Sansa's cries echoed soon enough and her figure appeared to run off to hug her family. Weeping mindlessly, she nestled her face into her brother's chest and refused to let go for a long, long time. Just wailing non-stop, apologizing for betraying her own father. For not being a good daughter.
Catelyn frowned multiple times hearing Sansa's words, but she stopped herself from asking anything there. Instead, she just hugged her and consoled her to calm down. By then, Robb had also ordered his men to bring in Jaime Lannister.
Robert silently waited on his throne, staring at the family reunion, struggling to hold himself back from joining. An hour passed, and finally the prisoner was brought in, chained, dirty, wounded in multiple places as he limped.
Thud!
Robb kicked Jaime, throwing him down onto his knees. "What will be the King's Justice, Your Grace?"
Robert's brow furrowed deeply at Robb's insolent tone. What might have been overlooked before now took on the weight of outright defiance. "While Cersei Lannister and Joffrey colluded to murder Ned. Jamie Lannister also bedded his own sister and fathered three bastards through their vile incest! The King's Justice will be announced to the entire realm, Young Stark. You are free to reside within the Red Keep until then and be with your sister.
Robb glared at Robert. "B—"
Catelyn stopped her son with a firm hand and stepped forward, her voice steady though her eyes betrayed her weariness. "Your Grace, forgive my son's tone; the journey has left us all weary, and the trials we've faced have been a heavy burden. I'm grateful to the Seven that you are alive and here to dispense justice. But… may we be permitted to see my husband's…?"
"It would be a sin to deny that, my lady," Robert responded quickly and waved dismissively to one of the Kingsguards. "Take them to the Sept of Baelor."
"Thank you… Thank you." Catelyn mumbled even as she turned around and left. She was clearly broken in heart and body. Although relaxed to see Robert on the throne, it did little to fill the void of loss in her heart.
Same for Robert, who felt restless, and suffocated in his body. Unable to do anything for his true family.
"Barristan, you know what to do." Robert bellowed in anger and walked down from his throne.
Bam!
He kicked Jaimie until he lay on his back, groaning and mumbling nonsense.
"Break his arms and legs!" Robert ordered, taking no chances with the Lannisters anymore. No matter what, Jaimie was one of the best swordsmen in Westeros.
Ser Barristan did as commanded and with the help of some more men, snapped the Kingslayer's arms and legs like mere twigs.
"Get the healers to mend him up properly before tossing him into the Black Cells. We'll sort the rest of it out when Tywin arrives."
"Understood, Your Grace!"
Robert walked away after that. His mood was too spoiled to hold court for the day.
Is this what you felt, Robert? Alone despite being surrounded by so many souls?
He wondered while making his way to his solar.
Riverlands,
Jon Snow couldn't bring himself to deny the King's royal decree. He tried and almost died from the wrath of his own brothers of the Night's Watch. To them, he mattered little, and the promise of the King's aid meant the world.
Still adorned in black, he rode his horse south. After a brief stop at Winterfell, he was already up to date with most of the happenings in the Seven Kingdoms. On his way down south he also took plenty of detours to look for his favorite half-sibling—Arya.
Any men he could muster from Winterfell were asked to expand the search for Arya. Even the men of House Tully were searching for her.
Reaching Crossroads Inn, he decided to stop there and rest for the night, grateful to Maester Luwin for handing him some coins to spend on the way.
"What do you want?" A barmaid approached him and asked.
"What's to eat?"
"Watery chicken stew. Just don't look for meat in it," the barmaid nonchalantly replied. "Need ale?"
"Just the stew." He tossed the coin for it and relaxed back. Looking around, the place looked full to the brim. Plenty of sellswords, travelers, and men of less honor dining around. Having never traveled outside the North before, everything felt new. The lesser cold was a welcome change, however.
Clank!
His attention was drawn to a table behind him just then. Men laughed while a young, short boy scurried to pick up the fallen cup of ale.
Thud!
"Bahaha~"
Jon frowned as one of the men kicked the little boy. He moved by instinct at that point and knelt beside the boy to help him.
"No need, good Ser. I can clean it myse—"
The boy froze as soon as he looked up at the man's face.
Jon, too, matched the expressions. The short hair couldn't fool him. "A-Arya?!"
"Jon?!"
The next day, Robert woke up early and entered his solar to start the day with a heavy dose of realm-repairing work. He ate his breakfast there and continued to write ravens, read various reports, and dozens of pleas from men of all statuses.
One of the reasons for keeping himself occupied was to stop thinking about Robb, Catelyn, and Sansa. To remind himself he was Robert Baratheon now, the King.
Knock! Knock!
"Your Grace," Ser Barristan's voice rang from outside. "Lord Tywin Lannister has entered King's Landing."
"Send him in once he's here!" Robert ordered and poured himself back into writing his raven to House Tyrell. He still had no idea where Tyrell's confidence was coming from. Most of the realm had accepted the fact that the King was alive and back. Even the North was on the trajectory to bend the knee once again.
Are they waiting for Tywin's reaction? He wondered and put away the quill. As long as things go as planned, the Tyrells will have nothing but regret.
He didn't hold the Tyrells in high regard ever since Robert's rebellion. The house stood with Targaryens despite it being clear that the Mad King had gone too far.
Knock! Knock!
"That was fast." Robert put away everything and looked at the door open.
Stoic, serious, noble—Tywin Lannister stormed into the room with an unwavering gaze, the fierceness of his house sigil not lost to his presence.
"What is the meaning of this?!" The old lion roared before the door could even close. "Where is my daughter?"
"In the Black Cells," Robert answered, matching Tywin's firm gaze.
"And my son?"
"Which one?"
Tywin's lips quivered. "Jaime."
"The Kingslayer, you say? Aye, he's rotting away in the Black Cells as well," Robert growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Tell me, Tywin, are you truly blind, or do you feign blindness for your own convenience?"
Tywin let out a deep, rumbling sigh, his fury barely contained. "What is my son's crime, to warrant such cruelty? For fighting in the name of the Lannisters, is it?"
"Hah!" Robert bellowed, gripping the armrest of his chair so fiercely that it splintered under his hand. "Not even going to defend your daughter? Aye, you knew, didn't you? You knew that your son and daughter have been fucking each other since the age of four and ten! That your son fucked the Queen and fathered three filthy bastards!"
Veins popped on Tywin's forehead, his eyes turned red. But he didn't reply for a long while, staring at the King with hostility.
"You have proof?"
"I have eight bastards! Not a single one of them has hair or eyes that don't scream of me!" Robert bellowed. "Before you say Lannister seed is strong, know this; your clever daughter admitted it! She confessed to her abominable affection for her brother. She even confessed to bedding Lancel Lannister, my squire, to spike my wine during that boar hunt!"
Tywin said nothing anymore.
But Robert continued. "Lancel Lannister confessed to fucking your whore of a daughter multiple times. And that is not the worst of it! High treason, Tywin! Your daughter tore up my decree to make Ned the Lord Regent. She had him killed for defying her and plunged the realm into chaos! For all your pride, you've failed in the only duty that mattered. You've raised a whore and a Kingslayer who fucks with his own sister!"
By the end of it, Robert was panting. Risen from his seat, he was just a few words away from bashing Tywin's skull with his bare hands. Thankfully, he could control himself.
Tywin somehow maintained his stoic expression. "You may do as you please with Cersei and Joffrey, but Jaime is not to be touched."
I knew you'd ask for that. Robert saw the old lion willingly fall into his plan.
"He shoved Lord Stark's boy, Bran, off that tower in Winterfell. The lad witnessed your precious son fucking his own sister," Robert bellowed. "The Starks are baying for blood. They want his head on a spike."
Tywin remained unmoved. "What do you want?"
So willingly?
"Though his sins may not rival those of Cersei or Joffrey, they are treasonous all the same. I know you only care about the cock that your son's carrying." Robert scoffed at the slightest hint of sneer on Tywin's face. He knew the man only wanted his son to sire some sons for the future of House Lannister. "Very well. For your son's cock, I want all debts owed to House Lannister by the Crown to be forgiven. You will also settle the remaining debts the Crown owes to the Iron Bank. Hand me Gregor Clegane. And lastly, I shall be taking your Kingslayer's sword hand."
Robert saw the man's face darken as he talked. As if the old lion aged years right in front of him.
Thankfully, Tywin's Lannister pride didn't allow him to bargain at that point. It was too beneath him. After a long moment of silence, he just grunted a nod.
"That's acceptable."
Robert took back his seat. "You're still wise, I see. Have the agreements signed before sunrise."
"What of Tommen and Myrcella?" Tywin asked further. "They have done not—"
Robert stopped him from finishing his words with a mere angry look. "I may not be a good man, Tywin. But I'm no baby killer."
Tywin didn't speak anymore. The shame, the dishonor, and the sorrow inflicted on him in that little exchange was more than a lifetime's worth. Being mocked for the murder of Elia Martell and her children was a ghost that still haunted him.
A defeated Lannister. Robert watched Tywin turn around and open the door to leave. This is all but your fault. For failing Joanna.
Of course, mocking him with his beloved wife was something even Robert knew was going too far. The woman was the only one the old lion ever loved.
"Make sure you're there for the execution tomorrow!"
Fist clenched, Tywin silently left.
Thud!
Robert rose to his feet as soon as he was alone.
You mistake me for a fool if you think I'd let Jaime go so easily after all this—For crippling Bran.
"Ser Barristan!"
The door opened and the knight entered.
"Break Jaime until the stroke of midnight. I'll have a word with him when the hour is nigh."