####
While Robert's exploits in Essos inched closer to an end, Westeros knew nothing but inner turmoil.
Stannis Baratheon did all he could to keep the realm safe and peaceful. But after so many months of Robert's disappearance, the regions barely held on by weak links began to falter.
Vale erupted in an internal power struggle. House Royce tried to take over Vale by using Robert Arryn, on whose behalf Lord Royce acted as the Lord Regent. Other houses didn't like Lord Royce's ambitions.
Meanwhile, Riverlands was a mess. With Robert gone, the Ironborn seemed to have regained their lost confidence. Or perhaps it was Westerlands aiding them. The fertile plains of Riverlands had turned into slaughterhouses, villages pillaged, fields burned, castles sieged, and blue blood spilled.
Lord Hoster Tulley was barely alive, and Edmure was far too naive to do anything about it. The North came to Riverland's aid, but it wasn't enough. The Crown couldn't do anything either, as sending help would weaken the Crownlands and Stormlands.
Dorne and Westerlands were seemingly in a partnership. Meanwhile, the Reach had refused to involve itself with the Crown anymore. However, House Tyrell did release the word that Margaery was pregnant.
It was now clear what the Tyrells were plotting. In a few more months, Margaery would give birth. If it were to be a boy, House Tyrell would join the likes of Tywin to take the throne for themselves.
Even for a bastard, as long as House Tyrell stood in support, anything was possible.
All that piled up and made nights sleepless for Stannis Baratheon, the Hand of the King and the current ruler of the Seven Kingdoms… almost.
"A waste of words." Stannis set the missive aside, his jaw tight. He looked to Melisandre. "He lives. But he will not return yet."
Melisandre studied the parchment, her red eyes flickering like embers. She nodded. "It is as I have foreseen. King Robert moves against the last of House Targaryen, fearing the dragon's return. He writes that they are real, three dragons. Fire, once kindled, is not so easily extinguished."
"And when he returns, what will remain? No Baratheon throne, no seat to claim. They scheme already—who shall rule, who shall serve the small council. Tywin will see the Crown in his grasp, and whichever puppet they raise up will set his son free from his sworn Night's Watch oath." Stannis rumbled annoyedly, his fist white, clenched on the table. "King's Landing stands isolated."
"Then we must be ready," Melisandre said. "The siege will come, as surely as the night. But while you stand, the throne remains Baratheon's by right—and by fire."
Sighing, Stannis nodded. There was nothing else they could do.
"At least we have some coins to spare now. But I shall try and reassure the Tyrells one last time."
####
The Old Lion wasn't feared for nothing. Once upon a time, he was feared for his ruthlessness, for the wealth he possessed. But now, he was feared, for he had nothing left to lose. His goal was set, and nothing could waver it.
Cersei had ruined his reputation, his name. But he wasn't one to sit and sulk. What was lost had to be reclaimed. For that, he cared not how many villages and towns needed to be burned. How many castles needed to be destroyed?
On a sunny day at Red Lake, the seat of House Crane in the Reach, a meeting took place. While it was kept a secret, half of the realm already knew about it.
Outside the castle of House Crane, two small entrouges of knights met, each led by a lord and a lady.
Then, a table with two chairs was placed between the two sides. Tywin Lannister took one seat, and the other was taken by Olenna Tyrell.
"Why the urgent request, Lord Tywin?" Olenna asked as she relaxed in the chair.
Tywin's gaze was cold and unwavering. "You understand well enough, my lady. Let us not waste time with pretense. Even if Lady Margaery bears a son, the Crown won't exchange hands so easily."
Olenna let out a dry chuckle, her lips curling in wry amusement. "Is that so? And pray tell, how exactly do you suggest I go about that?"
"You will not stand alone. If Lady Margaery bears a son, the Lannisters will stand with you. As for Dorne, they can be made to see reason," Tywin said.
"If? What if it's not a boy?"
"Then we take the next best course. Gendry, Robert's eldest bastard, will claim the crown. Lady Margaery will be his Queen."
"And I suppose this generosity isn't without a price?"
"The crown will settle its debts to House Lannister in full. My son is to be pardoned, and a royal decree shall command his return to his rightful, noble station," Tywin clearly stated. His request was extremely reasonable and, in truth, far less rewarding than what the Tyrells would get in return. "Of course, dealing with Stannis and taking King's Landing comes first."
"Of course," Olenna responded and crossed her arms. She gazed at the surrounding trees, the beautiful Red Lake visible in the distance.
Supporting Tywin was a great risk. If Robert ends up being alive and returns in the future, it'd put the new King in question. Or worse, Robert could simply reclaim the throne no matter if it be Margaery's son or the other bastard. Meanwhile, House Tyrell would be proclaimed a traitor to the Crown.
Well aware of Robert's fury, she had no desire to be on the receiving end. Even less so when the man seemed to be in a better state now than in his prime days.
"If… House Tyrell were to lend you our support, we'd require certain assurances. If you can neutralize the North, tame the Riverlands, and bring the Vale to our cause, I see no possibility of our loss. Our combined strength would make short work of the rest… all purely theoretical, of course."
Tywin fell silent now. Not because her request was unreasonable, but because of the time it'd take to fulfill all those. He'd left the North alone until now.
"Very well." He stood up. "I'll see to it."
"I expect nothing less."
####
Ting!
Ting!
Ting!
"Ugh…" Robert groaned at the noise. His eyes slowly opened as he finally registered what the sound was. "Bells?"
He knew what it meant, but he didn't panic or rush. Feeling his left arm still supporting Missandei's head, he looked at her relaxed, flushed face. He'd gone a little overboard last night, ending up tiring her to her last sober breath.
Almost a dozen times, she'd writhed atop his royal shaft, creaming him with her warm spasms and nectar. She'd moaned, panted, cried in thrill, jumped on his lap, flown in his arms, pressed underneath his thrusts, and everything in between.
It'd been a week since they'd arrived at Astapor and other than touring the city, visiting shops, eating, all they did was non-stop fucking.
"Missandei." He called her name and softly caressed her face. He felt the warmth of her dusky skin and sighed. "Wake up. It's time to start working."
"Hmm?" Missandei woke up slowly, her gaze one of the most beautiful things, eyes like molten gold. She gazed up at the man's face whose warmth she felt so close. She knew she had not a single piece of cloth covering her, just like him. Yet, after all the things they'd done, shame was lost.
"My Lord?" She sat up abruptly as she heard the bell.
Robert chuckled and turned sideways to her, supporting his head on his hand, elbow folded. Seeing her beautiful, slender but hourglass figure, those handful tits still with marks of his passion marks, made him hard.
"Ah!" Missandei's eyes widened as his well-built, immensely sizable cock grew to its full length and dangled towards her, almost standing straight on its own. He'd done her so much the previous night, and here he was ready again. "I-I… Would you like to…"
"Ignore it, lass." Robert sat up, facing her. Ignoring his erection, he reached for her round face, his wide palm easily covering half of her visage. His calloused thumb rubbed her soft lips. "Hard to keep the beast at rest when I wake to such a bonnie sight."
Missandei smiled and nestled her face into his palm as if surrendering to his will.
Fighting his instincts to shove into her right away, Robert dragged himself off the bed. "I'll go crack open the gates fer the Unsullied. Ye best stay here 'til I'm back. We ride fer Yunkai once the bastards are half-crushed—wait too long, an' they'll bar the gates tight as a miser's purse."
"Understood, My Lord."
What a sight it was. Robert watched as Missandei, in the nude, walked around and helped him get dressed. She tied his tunic, his gambeson. Then, when she knelt to help him into his boots, he almost lost it. Her needy, submissive golden eyes were too much to ignore.
But, thanks to a week of rampant fucking, he was far too calm and in control of his desire.
"Ain't gonna take more'n three hours, so get our belongings packed." Robert grabbed his tool of the day, a wooden club with iron spikes all over it. It was massive, four and a half feet long, and pretty thick at the farthest edge. A perfect weapon to bash skulls and more—gates.
With that, he left through the door.
As soon as he came out onto the streets, he found them mostly empty. Nearly all of the civilian population had retreated to safe buildings, hiding.
"Let's begin."
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