GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

Bam!

Robert rushed forward like a giant and slammed the warhammer across the chest of one Kingsguard. The man got thrown back into the air like a ragdoll, gasping for air and coughing.

Ser Barristan got the message and ordered his men to get serious.

Woosh!

Bam!

The Kingsguards tried to maintain distance and be quick on their feet, believing they could defeat Robert by being faster. Sadly, Rhaegar Targaryen once upon a time thought the same and paid the eternal price.

Thud!

Another Kingsguard got pushed to the ground while trying to block Robert's downward strike. Ser Barristan tried to get behind Robert at that time but had to step back as the giant King used his kicks as well.

"When did you learn that, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked. "You used to have trouble protecting your rear in battles."

"Just improving myself, Barristan," Robert replied, using the battle experience of two bodies and minds to the fullest. While Ned was masterful in his footwork, sword, and precision, Robert was a master at being a brute with finesse. "Change to the metal ones!"

That was the strategy. Robert made the sparring harder as time went on. Starting with wooden weapons, they soon changed into unsharpened weapons, and finally picked up their real weapons.

Clank!

The stakes went high all of a sudden and everyone in the arena became serious with every single move. Robert defended himself against the three Kingsguard, but it was Ser Barristan who gave him some flesh wounds.

Clearly, the famed knight was holding back from injuring the King too much. Every flesh wound was a reminder to Robert that he 'lost' already. But Robert never stopped, knowing that his large body could battle even after being stabbed a few times. Such was the prowess of Robert Baratheon.

Starting in the morning, Robert's training lasted ten hours non-stop. Thoroughly using every ounce of energy he gained from eating that day. By the end, he bled in a few places, having to get his wounds cleaned and bandaged.

A bath later, he resumed his duties as a King. Holding afternoon court or Small Council meetings.

Bland, lonely, confused, and tired—Robert, or rather Ned's soul, embraced his new life fully.

####

While Robert worked to keep the realm stable, Myrcella and Sansa giddily sat in the gardens of the Red Keep, drinking lemonade and savoring cheese. The girls, dressed in noble attires, held each other's hands while their chairs touched, both their faces turned towards the sea.

"I'm so glad you stayed behind, Sansa." Myrcella wrapped her arm around Sansa's, her smile bright and sincere. "You'll see—it's wonderful here!"

Sansa nodded in silence, already questioning her decision. She felt a little ashamed as her reasons for staying behind were less than sane. How was she to seduce the King when he didn't even look at her as a grown, fertile woman?

"Wondering how to tempt the King?" Myrcella asked all of a sudden as if she read her thoughts.

Sansa blushed and looked down. "H-He thinks I'm a child."

"But you're not. You flowered long ago, so you're a grown proper lady," Myrcella murmured, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, as her slender hand found Sansa's lap, lingering between her thighs, just above the belly. "But… remember this, Sansa. The path is narrow… and you'll have only one chance to take it."

Sansa roughly breathed and felt a tickle in her belly, somewhere between her legs. "W-What do you mean?"

"Have you ever been pleasured, Sansa?" Myrcella asked, pushing more on Sansa's lap until she parted her legs under her gown. "I don't mean by a man… by yourself?"

Sansa shook her head strongly, burning red in shame. "T-That's a sin… Septa M—"

"Cersei did it, the maids do it, Septa Mordane does it too. There's no shame in it, Sansa, and besides, if you don't do it, how will you attract the King?" Myrcella asked and neared her lips much closer to Sansa's ears, all the while her hand pushed up against her loins. "I once saw him with Haely. He's big… How will you take him in, Sansa?"

"Hmm…" Sansa let out a heated breath. "Y-You mean…"

"You'll need to start preparing yourself, Sansa," Myrcella added in whispers, her mischievous smile ever-lasting. "I'll help, so don't worry."

"H-How?" Sansa almost moaned. She grabbed Myrcella's hand between her legs yet never pushed it away.

"Slowly…" Myrcella giggled at the faint moistness against her hand. "Until then you're prepared, you can wear clothes to attract him."

"W-What clothes?"

"Anything with a deep neck… revealing back… 'Accidentally' exposing something to him."

Sansa gasped and her head fell back. She asked no more questions and instinctively spread her legs wider. For the first time, she hated her long dress.

Myrcella watched her friend's face get more flushed. She giggled and continued to play with her for a while. This was what she had learned from secretly watching Cersei on so many occasions.

Sometime later, she retracted her hand and stood up.

Sansa opened her eyes in annoyance. But the shame stopped her from uttering a single word.

"It should be time for dinner soon. Let's go and pick a good dress for you," Myrcella suggested. "Let's have dinner with Father every night from now on."

Sansa gulped and followed her dear friend closely. The decision had already been made, after all. She just had to follow through now.

####

Seven hells! What in the gods' name is she wearing? Robert frowned as soon as he saw Sansa walking into the small dining hall. He felt furious at her extremely deep neck that lay bare all of her collarbone. On top of that, there was a long slit in the middle of the neck that was tied together by laces as if they were steps of a ladder. Her entire cleavage was visible.

"Your Grace." Sansa approached the table and bowed her head. But in doing so, the front of her gown became slightly loose and flashed, paving the way for a look inside till her perky pink tips.

Who gave her these clothes?! Not aroused in the slightest, but enraged. I need answers!

"Take a seat." He tried to stay warm with her.

Yet, annoying him, Sansa walked around and took the seat nearest to him, just around the corner.

Robert saw the blush on her face and clenched his fist. Planned? Catelyn, did you plan this?

It made sense that this was Catelyn's plan to have Sansa woo the newly widowed King. To have Sansa be the new Queen and safeguard the North's interests. Politically, he appreciated and felt proud of Catelyn's decision. But personally, this felt like insanity.

Even if it weren't me but the real Robert, this is madness!

Feeling uncomfortable, he quickly ate his fill and left the dining hall. Swiftly, he looked for the maids responsible for taking care of Sansa and interrogated them.

To his dismay, it turned out Sansa chose her own dress.

That almost certainly confirmed his doubts.

Why, Catelyn? Why sell your daughter like this? She's… She's too beautiful for a brute like Robert.

In most cases, he cherished his old friend, but even he had a line he never hoped to cross.

This is disgusting! He felt helpless at the same time. I'll have Jon return her to Winterfell.

That sounded like the best plan.

####

A few days passed, each day feeling worse than the last. Robert tried to avoid Sansa as she continued to wear questionable clothing at the dinner and oftentimes stepped closer than she should.

He poured himself into his training every single day. Yet, every morning he'd find his wounds mysteriously healed. At that point, the possibility of magic didn't elude him, so he tried to get more injured during the training. Truly pushing himself.

"Your Grace. The Tyrells have entered the Red Keep."

Robert placed his warhammer down and looked behind. It was Stannis, stoic as ever.

"Show them their bloody rooms and see to whatever they need," Robert barked. "I'll deal with them when I damn well please. But first," he grunted, panting after the intense sparring. "Take me to Renly."

As if Stannis expected that already, he led Robert to the Black Cells. "We put him here as soon as they entered the Red Keep."

"Who are among the guests?" Robert inquired.

"Lord Mace Tyrell is here with his lady, daughter, and the youngest son."

"Not Olenna?"

"No."

What is she plotting from Highgarden?

"What of the Baratheon men that Renly had under him?" Robert asked, just as they arrived at the cell.

"Most have returned to Storm's End."

The metal door creaked as Stannis opened it. He walked inside first and placed the torch on a wall. The metal chains clanked audibly, Renly's movements inside apparent.

"R-Robert! Robert, please save me! I was a hostage of the Tyrells! I—"

Pa!

Robert walked in and slapped Renly across the face.

______________________

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