When The Throne Bleeds

20. Ours Is The Fury

Robert Baratheon had returned from his hunt, managing to kill a large deer instead of a boar, whose antlers were currently being hung somewhere in the castle. The King was lying on his bed as a dozen whores from Littlefinger's best brothel lay around him, including a redhead from the North.

It was late in the evening when he had tired himself out and lay back, exhausted, as the women kept touching and licking him. The red head wiggled to his face, kissing him. He stretched out an arm for her, and she rested her head on it, grinning at him.

"Would you like it if I touched you here?" She trailed her fingers on his chest and down below, rubbing it at specific spots, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.

Ros was talented at what she did.

"You remind me of a man who had once come to me. He was the strongest I'd ever seen, he had brawny arms and a deep majestic voice. He said he'd killed monsters and demons who butchered villages, and ate babies in front of their mothers. He said they practiced incest and worshipped the devil. He said he was the killer of evil." She whispered to him.

"Aren't you a talkative little bitch!" Robert laughed heartily, the wine heavy on him.

She giggled.

"That was such a large deer, my King. You are so skilled." Ros sang.

Robert's drunk face seemed pleased with the comment.

"I was just wondering, your Grace, why didn't you take your eldest son to the hunt too?" She twirled his black hair with her slender fingers.

"Gah! He's a boy and he's young. Let him learn to shoot an arrow and then I'll take him to kill beasts." Robert said in a loud drunken voice.

The redhead took a deep breath almost imperceptibly, readying herself.

"Your son will be a great king, your Grace. I wonder why his hair is golden though, his hair should've been like you. A Baratheon should be black of hair. He's more of a Lannister really. And he looks so similar to Ser Jaime! Doesn't he, your Grace?"

Robert's eyes began to droop as he heard her. The statement took a minute to register in his mind. Ros could almost see the King piecing everything together, his eyes widening simultaneously. She quietly slipped away from the King, her work there done.

Raw anger flared in Robert Baratheon's senses. All he saw was red. Cersei...he never thought Cersei would be capable of such a horrendous crime. Jaime Lannister, he had decided, would be paraded naked in the streets to be killed by the mob. He deserved that. Robert felt disgusted as he looked back to all those times he had seen Jaime and Cersei talking, to think that those twins did such heinous deeds behind his back...

Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen...he had fathered none of them, and had loved them all the same. His heart twisted into a horrifying mold, the same way it had twisted nineteen years ago when he had got news of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

"Get out! The lot of you!" He screamed at the whores on his bedside who rushed out of the chamber, the redhead giving him a smirk which he did not notice.

"Barristan! Come here!" He shouted, his wrath intensifying his voice.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was standing in front of him in a minute, awaiting orders.

"Yes, your Grace?"

"Call Cersei and Jaime to the Throne Room now. And collect all my children and take them there too. NOW!"

"At once, your Grace." Ser Barristan nodded, wondering internally of what made the King so outraged.

....