GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

Pa!

Another slap followed from the other hand, shoving Renly's weakened body left and right. He barely remained standing by the time Robert stopped slapping him.

"What's this now? Do you see 'oaf' scrawled across my face, Renly? I gave you everything you could have ever wanted, didn't I? Gold, fame, Storm's End—I even turned a blind eye to your follies. And this… this is how you repay me? With that look in your eye, like some scheming whelp? You think yourself a throne-stealer now, do you? A Kingslayer in waiting? Don't feed me that drivel about being some poor hostage—I know well enough you drank your fill and bedded that Tyrell boy all bloody nights! You're a small, bitter, and blind fool! That's what you are!"

Renly cried in pain, bleeding from his lips. "I-I… I thought you weren't the rea—"

Pa!

Robert slapped him again, a thunderous crack echoing through the cell.

"So, instead of finding the truth, you went and sparked a rebellion? Gods be damned, boy! Did you truly think you could stand a chance against me?! Every bit of glory we have now was forged with my warhammer, not your soft words and flowery schemes! I always thought if betrayal came, it'd be from Stannis, but the man stood by me through thick and thin while you... You dare to whisper treason!"

Almost lifeless, Renly fell to his knees and grabbed Robert's leg. "One last time. Forgive me, Robert—"

You're not even my brother, Renly. I will not have another Blackfyre madness born in my rule.

"You shall receive what traitors get—death!"

Bam!

Robert kicked Renly away and turned around to leave. Stannis came quickly behind him, taking away the torch and leaving Renly in utter darkness.

Just as they walked and reached the isolated stairs, Stannis tugged on Robert's coat. "Your Grace, may I have a word?"

Robert stopped and looked behind at his brother. One look at his face and he knew what was eating the stoic Baratheon's mind. "You're alarmed that I'll marry a Tyrell?"

"I am," Stannis replied with a curt nod. "They may be the surest path to steady the realm but do not mistake calm for peace, Your Grace. They're a storm in waiting, no better than the Lannisters."

At least he believes I'm Robert.

Robert clapped a heavy hand on Stannis' shoulder, his voice gruff but edged with a hint of jest. "Oh, I know, Stannis. Gods know I'd sooner bed a boar than find another like Cersei beside me. I've no mind to hand the Tyrells the key to my throne—No, I'll keep them where they belong, at the end of my hammer's reach. Tomorrow, I'll leave for Dorne to deliver the Mountain, but while I'm gone, you'll sit the Iron Throne as my Lord Hand. Do it well, and I'll make it permanent."

For a moment, Stannis' eyes flashed with something. An emotion perhaps? The man never showed it on his face.

"You can trust me, Your Grace."

"I am… trusting you, Stannis. You're all I have left."

With that, Robert turned around and climbed the stairs. As he reached the top, he turned towards his solar's direction. However, just before he left, he ordered Stannis.

"Send Lord Tyrell to my solar. Best to have a word with him before I ride out in the morning."

####

Robert waited in his solar till late. He saw the sun set outside and dinner time pass. He ate his fill in there to avoid Sansa and then resumed working. Studying some records about the city, or writing some ravens.

Knock! Knock!

"You can enter, Lord Tyrell." Robert sat down in his high chair behind the table.

The door was opened without a creak by a Kingsguard. However, instead of the fat oaf, a feminine figure entered the room.

"Lady Alerie Hightower?" Robert stood up. This was unexpected.

Much younger than her husband, Mace Tyrell, she was tall, dignified, slender, with long silver hair, and a face as stoic as Stannis, yet beauty that had retained her ripe youth. Her green, long dress was flowing like a flower, thin on her arms like a see-through curtain, and tight around her waist.

"Your Grace," Lady Alerie said with graceful poise, her fingers lightly lifting the hem of her gown and her head bowing in deference. "My Lord Husband extends his deepest apologies. The taxing journey has left him bedridden with fatigue."

That fat fool. Robert sneered and sat down again.

"Have a seat, my lady." He invited her in.

Lady Alerie remained unmoved. "I regret to say, Your Grace, that I'm not in a position to discuss the affairs of my House at this time. I trust you can find patience until my husban—"

"Tomorrow I ride for Dorne, so you've got tonight to spill whatever's on your mind. Make it count." Robert chose harsh words while keeping some modesty.

In Lady Alerie's mind, alarms started to ring. Dorne meant Princess Arianne Martell who was famed for her charm. Could the throne once again fall to the Martells?

"Your Grace…"

"Fine, I will stand up if you won't take a seat." Robert walked around his table and stood in front of her, towering like a giant.

Although she was taller than most women, she was still nowhere near the giant King. She had grown pampered all her life like most noble-born women of the Reach. She instinctively stepped back. "We, House Tyrell, beseech Your Grace for forgiveness. Misled by Renly's promises in the wake of your false demise, we were deceived into believing that the throne had been unjustly claimed."

Robert sneered at her emotionless, toneless way of speaking. It felt as if she was reading a script. "Unjustly occupied? By whom? Joffrey? He was gone the moment I came back. For months, your House stood behind Renly's banner. The realm calls me a brute, my lady, so I won't sugarcoat my words. Your house betrayed the trust of the crown by supporting a rebellion."

Alerie looked up at Robert, her pride as a Hightower and a Tyrell evident in her eyes. "Thus, we seek to amend this misstep and dispel any lingering doubts by uniting our houses. My daughter, Margaery—House Tyrell's very jewel—shall marry you and become your loving wife."

Robert scoffed and stepped back towards his table. It was all a failed negotiation to him. He had no interest in uniting their houses.

Bam!

He slammed on the table to scare the woman. Easily, he made her flinch. "Haha, such shamelessness. You want me to reward your house for rebelling? Do you think your prized daughter's cunt is so valuable? I'm not Renly, Lady Alerie."

Alerie felt ashamed at his crass words and looked down. She felt her patience tested as her breath grew rapid. But, she knew she couldn't lash out at this man. Robert was the most desired man right now. One wrong move and her house could lose this chance.

"House Tyrell has long stood behind the Baratheon claim to the throne, and though we might have lent our support to King Joffrey, we chose steadfastly to back Renly. Had we known of your survival, we would never have taken such a course." She said and went on to request. "Your Grace… Is there nothing we can do to have you reconsider this?"

Robert looked at her face. He knew all those words were born out of necessity, not heart. But he still needed her to leave him alone so he could depart in the morning without giving any definite answer.

Thankfully, he knew exactly how to scare away a noble, highborn woman like Alerie Hightower.

He strode closer to Alerie and stopped one foot away. He looked down into her light green eyes. I'm Robert Baratheon. I'm shameless, a brute, and a crass whoremonger.

"Then show me, with your actions, that you truly seek my forgiveness," he said.

Alerie gulped. "How, Your Grace?"

I am Robert Baratheon. I am shameless, a brute, and a crass whoremonger.

"Kneel!" He ordered.

For the first time showing a reaction, Alerie's eyes widened in confused shock. She froze for a short moment, but soon enough began to lower her noble, proud self to her knees on her soft robes.

You better run away through that door after this.

"Now pleasure me!"

Run away now, woma—No! No, stop!

Alerie raised her smooth hands and delicately spread Robert's surcoat wide from the front, and then untied his breeches. Her dainty, noble fingers slid under his waistband and seized his limp shaft in a grip.

What! Why is she…!

This time, Robert froze.

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