GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

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Back in the Narrow Sea.

"Hold! Don't fall off!"

"Starboard! Starboard!"

Storms were expected when they began their journey. But this one was fierce, and the entire fleet had to make quick maneuvers to save themselves from high waves. Thankfully, their war galleys were large enough to take the beating and continue to make the journey.

"Wreckage on the starboard side! Wreckage!"

It was hell, but at least the storm had arrived during the daylight. Due to that, they soon noticed the wreckage of another ship. But this one clearly didn't belong to them as it flew a different flag. It was beaten by the waves, its mast destroyed.

"Save them first!" Robert issued a command and moved on the deck himself to throw in the ropes. Many people were floating in the water with the support of the wreckage. Some were on a smaller boat that they likely took out in time.

"Pull!"

The men quickly started pulling the people out of the water. Rope ladders were also thrown down to anyone who could swim closer to them. The storm was still going on so it was tough to maintain pace.

It took them more than an hour to finally save a total of twenty souls. The ship likely had more, but by then nothing was left to save as the vessel sank.

"Who are they?" Robert asked from the sidelines, watching the saved people slowly gather themselves and get up to dry their clothes. There were six women and fourteen men in the group.

Ser Barristan went over to interrogate and soon brought back answers. "Your Grace, that ship belonged to Tregar Ormollen, a merchant prince of Lys. They were on their way to Tyrosh when the waves battered their ship. That man in golden robes is Prince Tregar, and the six women are his concubines."

Merchant Prince from Lys? Robert eyed the man with interest. It was clear the man was wealthy. Can this be a blessing in disguise? I need gold more than anything else to save the crown from ruins.

"Your Grace, I'm thankful for your great benevolence." The merchant prince approached Robert and bowed his head in greeting. "My end was imminent if not for you."

Robert just gave a nod, keeping the air of royalty around him. "Don't trouble yourself over it. Ser Barristan, see that Prince Tregar and his concubines are given the spare rooms. He'll be our guest for the rest of this bloody journey."

The merchant from Lys bowed his head in gratitude.

Robert gave one last look to the man, noticing the Dornish features, but still different. With a pale brown face, silver hair, and large eyes, the prince was a more rotund man than Robert while also being shorter. No doubt, the man had likely seen only luxury in his life.

With that, Robert returned to his large personal chamber to have some rest. It was impossible to train in that storm, so he chose to get some rest instead and wait for the furious waves to pass.

####

Unlike the seas, King's Landing still basked in warm sunlight. For the most part, the people had one meal a day at least. As for those in the Red Keep, life was amazing.

Such was the case for the two girls, Sansa and Myrcella. The two had become inseparable, spending more time together than away. On most nights they even shared the same room and ate all three meals together. Their laughter filled the gardens and the hallways, uplifting the melancholy left behind by the series of executions.

However, there were more things going on behind closed doors than just laughter. In front of the big, open window that filled the room with warmth, Sansa and Myrcella sat on the large bed close to each other.

"I-I don't know, Myrcella. Should we be doing this?" Sansa nervously murmured, her body leaning backward against both her arms while she stared at Myrcella in front of her, raising her gown up from her milky white legs.

"I… I…" Myrcella gulped and kept on going, sliding Sansa's gown up until she could see her smallclothes covering her intimate flower. She inched between her legs and got closer before smiling. "How will you take King Robert in if you can't even tolerate a finger?"

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded. "How do we start?"

"Get rid of this first," Myrcella suggested, pointing at the smallclothes.

Sansa nodded, slid her fingers under her gown, and pushed down her smallclothes. Smoothly, she took them fully off her legs and placed them aside.

"Widen your legs," Myrcealla said.

Sansa nervously followed instructions.

"Let's see." Myrcella felt excited for some reason. Both her hands already rested on Sansa's thighs, so the warm feeling of the skin made her interested in seeing what Sansa held there. "Oh!"

"What happened?!" Sansa exclaimed in fear.

Myrcella sighed and widened Sansa's legs with her own hands. She stared at the junction of her thighs, the pale pink entrance was as untouched as she had expected. One look, and she knew she'd be tight—perfect for Robert. But, the amount of hair made her frown.

"Sansa, it's a forest down here! Have you never removed them?"

"Remove? How?" Sansa frowned and quickly clenched her legs together in shame.

Myrcella sighed and sat back, folding her arms. "Oh, my dear Sansa. You know nothing."

####

The storm had passed, and calm waters returned as the night crept in. Robert summoned his guests to his spacious quarters, where a large dining table awaited. The room was lavish, fit for a king, with a grand canopied bed against one wall, a writing desk and chair nearby, and thick curtains to partition the bed from prying eyes. At the far end, a private, enclosed privy offered its own discrete retreat.

A small, dinner feast was thrown in the name of Prince Tregar, and his second life that he was blessed with that day.

The man came with all his concubines and sat around at the table, close to Robert. He never stopped thanking Robert for saving him and going out of his way to entertain him. It was clear to Tregar that while he may be wealthy, Robert was someone who held true power in his hands—the power to cause large-scale violence. That was the only real power recognized in the world.

"I owe a great debt of life to you, Your Grace. I'll send a chest of gold once I return to Lys," Tregar promised as he devoured the meat and wine. "I'll spread the word of Your Grace's benevolence."

He's buttering me up like a pig in the oven. Robert didn't like it, but he let the man babble. In truth, he just wanted to form deeper relations with the man to open a new trade route for his personal coffers.

At that, he glanced at the six concubines that Tregar had brought. Each one of them was a beauty of the highest standard, some with dark skin, some brown, and some pale as snow. From black hair to blonde and white. From busty bodies to slender frames. No doubt, money earned the obese prince more than just a luxurious lifestyle.

However, his eyes fell on one of the women and it left him pondering. Have I seen her before?

"Ah, that is my chief concubine," Tregar proudly introduced. "A beauty, isn't she?"

Robert nodded. "What about your Lady?"

"My wife? Ah, she's as much of a merchant as I am, Your Grace. Both of us leaving Lys together means losses." Tregar explained. But midways his eyes lit up and he looked back at his chief concubine. "Your Grace? I offer you my chief concubine for the rest of this journey! That's the least I should do, for saving our lives."

Seven Hells! What's he jabbering about?

Robert frowned and politely declined. "There is no need for such extremities, Prince Tregar."

"No, I must! Lys is most famed for our bed slaves. While she may just be my concubine, I assure you she's highly competent in bed, haha—That's why she's the chief concubine."

Did I ask? Robert sighed and just focused on the meal while giving a few chuckles. He only wanted to speak with the man alone later about trade, not women. Is this how your life was, Robert? Women thrown at you from all sides?

Creak!

Soon after the chairs scratched on the wooden surface as they all stood up. Dinner was over, so the guests began leaving the King's quarters to return to their small but comfortable rooms.

No, no! Take the bloody woman with you! Robert frowned, noticing one of the women still seated. The so-called chief concubine had golden hair, skin the color of cream, and a faintly busty, but mostly slender, average-height frame.

"Your Grace." Treagar looked back at Robert just as he approached the door. "Concubines are not allowed to birth bastards, so they no longer possess the means to make one. I thought you might find that useful—I hope you have a pleasurable night."

"Take her with you," Robert raised his voice.

"She's not mine to take anymore. Not for the coming two weeks."

Thud!

The door was slammed shut.

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