Fury And Pride | Myrcella Baratheon x Male!OC Fanfiction | Game Of Thrones AU

A Drunken Stupor

"What do you mean my son's gone?!"

In the confines of his bedchamber, King Robert fumed with irritation as he paced back and forth, wondering where his black-haired son could have disappeared to.

Lord Commander Barristan Selmy stood before the king, his face solemn, a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"Your Grace, we have searched the entire keep, but there's no sign of the second prince anywhere."

King Robert's face grew more and more red with anger. "Blast it all, Selmy! How does one lose a prince in his own castle?!"

Lord Commander Selmy attempted to remain composed, despite the king's growing ire. "We're doing our best to find him, Your Grace. We've doubled the guard and searched every room, but there's no trace of him."

The king's fists clenched as he gritted his teeth. "This is unbelievable! You have one job, Selmy. One job! To keep my family safe. And now my son is missing! How do you expect me to trust the security of this castle if you can't even keep track of one boy?!"

Ser Jaime Lannister, standing guard outside the door, could hear the king's irate voice booming from inside the bedchamber. He raised an eyebrow, trying to contain his smirk amused at Lord Robert's frustration.

Robert's attention snapped to Jaime, his gaze sharp and cutting. "What was that, lion boy?" he barked, his voice laced with irritation.

Jaime immediately fell silent, instantly regretting his slip-up. He knew better than to provoke the king when he was in one of his moods, especially when it came to matters of family.

"Go and bring me Maxir Fyshe. Now!" The King bellowed.

- - -

The tavern was alive with the sounds of laughter and merriment, a gathering of high-ranking lords, members of court, and beautiful maidens from various noble houses. The atmosphere was one of frivolity and indulgence, a temporary escape from the more serious matters of court life.

He could see the flash of expensive garments, hear the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation, but he couldn't spot his charge anywhere in the sea of people. Maxir cursed inwardly, starting to feel the first stirring of panic in his chest...

Maximus wove through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Steffon.

He made his way to the bar, where a pretty barmaid with dark hair and a shy smile served drinks. "Excuse me, lass. Have you seen a certain Prince Steffon Baratheon anywhere? Black of hair, blue of eyes. One comely face for a lad. Can't be that hard to miss."

The barmaid thought for a moment, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. "Oh, yes," she said suddenly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "He was here earlier. Sat at a table in the corner with a few lasses, drinking and... engaging in some risky activities."

The Braavosi raised an eyebrow at the barmaid's words. "Any chance those activities involved a chamber upstairs?"

- - -

In a small, dimly lit room, Steffon was a contrast to the carefree image he usually projected. He was on the bed, his head in the lap of a middle-aged, blonde whore as he wept quietly, his body shaking with sobs.

The woman stroked his dark curls in a motherly gesture, her face expressing both concern and surprise. "There, there, love. Don't cry so. What's got you in such a state, eh?"

Steffon didn't respond right away, his tears staining the woman's gown. He was a prince, supposed to be strong and confident, yet here he was, weeping in the arms of a stranger.