GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

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

"I agree with that, Your Grace."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven hells! Have some patience, Catelyn.

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

"Enough!"

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

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

Catelyn started walking away towards the door.

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

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

Thud!

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

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

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

This Keep is cursed!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wh—Ah!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alayaya?" Robert drunkenly murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

"Umm…" Chataya hummed and disrobed completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clack!

"Mother?"

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