Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - The Wolf In Stag's Clothing III
"Robert!" Renly jumped off the horse and ran towards Robert's horse. "You're alive!"
Robert measured his little brother, the one who had been the most cherished and spoiled. Yet, who could have known he held grand aspirations in his heart? Despite having no claim to the throne directly after him, the man wanted it.
Why be the King when you can't sire children? Eddard wondered inside. He was well aware of Renly's choice of partners.
"Seven hells, Renly! You allied with the Tyrells? I never knew you were so desperate for my throne." Robert held himself from speaking too humbly or smartly, and maintained a rude and straightforward tone. "Both of you… scheming like damned vipers! I thought you had more spine than that!"
Stannis and Renly glanced at each other. They both knew the problematic situation they were in now. After having announced war against each other, they had now lost the very cause they were fighting for—The throne was no longer empty.
"I simply don't believe Stannis would have been a better King, Robert," Renly replied.
Stannis glared at his younger brother, the one he held in contempt. He didn't harbor fondness for Robert either, for his elder brother had long dismissed his deeds and saw fit to bestow Storm's End upon Renly. "That does not grant you the right to disregard the ancient traditions, the line of succession."
"A King must possess charm, boldness, and a quick mind—all qualities you profoundly lack," Renly retorted.
"Enough!" Robert roared, his voice echoing off the trees. "I'll set this straight. According to the traditions, seniority takes precedence over all else. Stannis is my heir until I have trueborn children of my own. And Renly, you have Storm's End—what more do you want? You'd do well to marry and produce some nephews and nieces for me before you start eyeing the throne."
Renly quickly looked down in embarrassment, realizing his brother was well aware of his lifestyle choices. "I… I understand, Your Grace."
"We are Baratheons!" Robert thundered, though he nearly slipped and said Starks instead. "Ours is the Fury, and those bastards in the Red Keep need a sharp reminder of it. I want my family united now, not tearing each other apart. I'll ask this but once; Are you with me, or will you continue to chase the throne, even if it means spilling your own brother's blood?"
After a long, silent yet noisy moment of birds chirping, and the river gushing, the two brothers looked at each other and nodded.
"You're the King." Stannis declared. "I'm the Master of Ships."
"I'm the Master of Law," Renly added. "What's the plan?"
Robert didn't waste a moment and began ordering them around. "Renly, return to your camp and bring all the Stormlands' soldiers. King's Landing needs a bloody cleaning. Stannis, send someone to haul your fleet to the capital. Until I move against the Lannisters, keep your mouths shut and play dumb."
"Consider it done!" Renly obliged and quickly retreated with his men.
Soon, Stannis had his men pack up and get ready to march. Robert didn't allow a large entourage to form, however. Getting into the city was the main objective.
This will end as long as I can enter the Red Keep.
####
King's Landing, Red Keep.
Numerous chattering mouths, all gaze fixed on the king and his prey of the day. The well-dressed boy king with his crown, and a young girl weeping for mercy before him. Yet it was only she who felt devastated while the rest drew pleasure from her misfortune.
"You're here to answer for your brother's latest treason!" Joffrey proclaimed as he stood with his crossbow aimed at the girl, at Sansa Stark.
Eyes swollen red from countless nights spent crying, she pleaded. "Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that. I beg you—"
Joffrey scoffed at that and lowered his crossbow. "Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage."
Right away, Lancel Lannister stepped out of the crowd. "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain!"
"Killing you would send your brother a message." Joffrey raised the crossbow once again. "But my Mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand—So we'll have to send your brother a message some other way."
Joffrey returned to his royal throne and commanded his loyal Kingsguard. "Boros! Meryn! Leave her face. I like her pretty."
Right away, two sizable Kingsguards, fully armored, walked towards Sansa menacingly. The short, fat, and almost bald-headed Boros moved first, slamming a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her.
"Aaah!" Sansa failed to even plead and doubled over, clenching her belly with her hands.
But Boros held no mercy and grabbed her hair. Right then Ser Meryn drew his sword as if meaning to cut open her throat. But he laid his blade flat and hit her across her thighs, almost breaking her legs from the sheer force.
Sansa screamed, tears welling in her eyes. It wasn't the first time being hit, so she prayed that it'd be over soon. But she soon lost count of the blows.
"Meryn, my lady is overdressed." Joffrey, in his vile desire, got up and ordered. "Make her naked!"
Meryn wasted no time and shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa's bodice. With a hard yank, the silk came tearing away, baring Sansa all naked to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. But she heard Joffrey continue to order his men.
"Beat her bloody," Joffrey said, "we'll see how her brother fancies."
With a grim smirk, Ser Boros approached Sansa and gripped her red hair in a bunch. As if a game he had just caught, he pulled on her hair and forced her to stand.
Ser Meryn seized the opportunity and hit her belly yet again, leaving Sansa gasping, her arms falling to her belly, laying her uncovered chest revealed to the crowd. This was the first time her honor had been trampled like this so publicly, so inhumanly.
Clop!
Clop!
"Keep hitting her!" Joffrey roared with pleasure, his eyes wide in excitement. "I want to see her bloody!"
Clop!
Clop!
Amidst Sansa's cries, the crowd's chattering, and Joffrey's demands, everyone failed to notice the clapping hooves of a horse increasingly approaching. All were unaware of the chilling fury that had entered the ancient castle.
"Hah! That will show her brother! The traitor!" Joffrey almost jumped in delight at the great entertainment.
Shhhh…!
"You treacherous cunts!" A roar thundered from the entrance, and a horse charged in. "Unhand her—haaaa!"
Boom!
Antlers on his head, the warhammer in his hands. The horse dragged its feet as it came to a halt right beside the tormented girl. The hammer swung high in the air and once it landed, it caved right into Ser Boros' head.
The entire skull exploded at the monstrous might behind that hammer, its pointy side entirely dug into the man's skull, cracking it, leaving it a mess of flesh and bones.
"And you!" the giant of a man roared and jumped down from his horse. "Face the king's justice!"
Bam!
Ser Meryn failed to perry the warhammer with his sword. The hammer struck him right in the chest, throwing him into the air. Once he landed down on his back, he only saw the warhammer already on its way to his chest.
"Haaa!"
The metallic blows resounded loudly in the throne room. The chest armor caved in, leaving Ser Meryn gurgling blood.
"Haaa!"
The warhammer never lost its way and continued to rumble down. With each strike, the armor caved further and further in, killing the man gruesomely. Yet the fury remained high.
"Haaa!"
The next time the warhammer landed, it struck Ser Meryn in the face, shattering everything apart in a single blow. Eyes popped out, his teeth tumbled around. Blood painted the floor red, brain matter adorned the rest.
"Haaaaa!" Finally, the man stopped with a roar and looked towards the throne, at Joffrey.
The boy stood there in freight, his entire being shivering. He could see the face but the rest could not.
"Boy, return to your mother and suckle her tits. You still have much growing to do!"
Thud!
At last, Robert walked over the crushed skull of Ser Meryn and approached the Iron Throne. Maintaining his proud demeanor, he climbed the stairs, leaving bloodied footprints the whole way.
"Have you gone deaf, boy?" Robert boomed at Joffrey.
Clack!
But all of a sudden, Ser Sandor Clegane stood in front of Joffrey, protecting him, looking discomforted, questioning if this was the right thing to do.
"Are you a traitor?" Robert glared at the tall man.
"No, Your Grace," Sandor answered.
"Then step aside and let me educate my son," Robert said the last word with a hint of ridicule.
Slap!
Clegane moved, and Robert slapped Joffrey on the right cheek. He hoped he shattered his ears with that.
Slap!
Robert slapped him on the left this time.
Slap!
He didn't stop until he saw Joffrey bleeding from his lips, ears, and also nose. Not until he saw visible swollen traces.
"Leave!" Robert bellowed.
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