The Red Keep loomed before Benjamin Gilman, its towering spires and formidable walls a testament to the power and history of the Seven Kingdoms. As he followed the royal procession through the imposing gates, Benjamin couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement beneath his usual cocky exterior. For all his bravado and superhuman abilities, there was something undeniably awe-inspiring about the ancient fortress.
A young squire, barely more than a boy, approached Benjamin with a nervous bow. "My lord," he stammered, "I've been instructed to show you to your chambers and give you a tour of the Keep."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow at the 'lord' title but decided to let it slide. Being a Lord sounded cool, but it all went away when that annoying accent announced it. "Lead on, kid," he said with a grin. "Let's see what this place has to offer."
As they made their way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Red Keep, Benjamin found himself genuinely impressed. The architecture was a far cry from the sleek skyscrapers of New York or the facilities of Vought, but it had a grandeur all its own. Tapestries depicting epic battles and legendary heroes adorned the walls, while ornate suits of armor stood sentinel at regular intervals. It was pretty sick.
"This is some serious bumfuck Disney shit," Benjamin muttered to himself, earning a confused look from his young guide.
Their tour took them through the Maidenvault, where Benjamin couldn't help but make a few ribald jokes that left the squire blushing furiously. They passed by the White Sword Tower, home of the Kingsguard, where Benjamin caught a glimpse of sister fuc- ahem Jaime Lannister in his gleaming white armor. The Kingslayer gave him a nod of acknowledgment, a hint of challenge in his green eyes. The guy got on his nerves, his face was just so punchable.
As they entered the godswood, a small forest within the castle walls, Benjamin felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. The ancient heart tree, with its carved face, seemed to watch him with knowing eyes. For a moment, the cocky superhero felt a flicker of something he rarely experienced – humility. Gross.
The moment passed quickly as they moved on to the next stop on their tour. The Great Hall, where feasts and court sessions were held, was a cavernous space that could easily seat a thousand. Benjamin whistled appreciatively at the sight.
"Not bad," he said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "Bet this place has seen some wild parties."
If he decides to take the crown for himself, the first gasm will be here. Without question.
The squire, growing slightly more comfortable with Benjamin's irreverent attitude, ventured a small smile. "Indeed, my lord. The feasts here are legendary. Though I hear they pale in comparison to those in your homeland."
Benjamin chuckled, looking up at the architecture, remembering the absolute degeneracy that took place in the infamous Herogasm house. "Kid, you have no idea. We've got parties that would make your wildest feasts look like a church picnic."
As they continued their tour, Benjamin's mind wandered to the stories he'd read as a child – tales of knights and dragons, of noble kings and evil sorcerers. He'd never admitted it to anyone, but a part of him had always been fascinated by those stories. Now, here he was, living in what felt like a fantasy come to life. It was almost enough to make him forget the constant stench of the city and the weight of expectations that came with his new position.
Finally, after what felt like hours of winding corridors and grand chambers, they arrived at their ultimate destination – the throne room. The squire paused before the massive doors, turning to Benjamin with a serious expression.
"My lord," he said, his voice hushed with reverence, "beyond these doors lies the Iron Throne, the seat of power in the Seven Kingdoms. King Robert awaits you there, along with the small council and other nobles of the court."
Benjamin nodded, straightening his posture slightly. He may not have been one for ass-kissing, but he understood the importance of first impressions. Plus, he couldn't deny a flutter of anticipation at the thought of seeing the infamous Iron Throne in person.
As the doors swung open, Benjamin was hit with a wave of sound and color. The throne room was packed with people – nobles in rich silks and velvets, knights in gleaming armor, servants scurrying about with trays of wine and food. At the far end of the hall, atop a dais of steep steps, sat the Iron Throne itself.
Benjamin had to admit, it was an impressive sight. The massive chair, forged from the swords of conquered enemies, looked as uncomfortable as it was intimidating. And there, sprawled across it like a lounging cat, was Robert Baratheon.
As Benjamin made his way down the center aisle, he could feel hundreds of eyes upon him and his shield. The whispers that followed in his wake were a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and in some cases, outright hostility. He caught sight of familiar faces – Cersei Lannister, her expression a mask of cool disdain; Ned Stark, looking uncomfortable in his new role as Hand of the King; and Littlefinger, his eyes shrewd and calculating as they followed Benjamin's progress.
'God, these people are so weird.' Benjamin thought. But there were many more faces he didn't recognize. Men in rich robes who must be members of the small council, ladies of the court eyeing him with varying degrees of interest, and stern-faced knights whose hands never strayed far from their sword hilts.
As he reached the base of the dais, Benjamin recalled the lessons Maester Luwin had drilled into him about court etiquette. He knew he was expected to kneel, to swear fealty to the king and pledge his loyalty to the crown. But that wasn't Benjamin's style.
Him, the symbol of America, kneeling? It was disgusting. Especially before those who are genetically lesser.
Instead, he stopped a few paces from the throne and gave a casual salute, the kind he might have given to a superior officer back in his Army days before becoming Solider Boy. "Your Grace," he said, his voice carrying easily through the hushed hall. "Nice place you've got here. The throne looks... pointy."
A collective gasp went up from the assembled courtiers. Even Robert looked taken aback for a moment. Then, to everyone's surprise, the king burst into raucous laughter.
"Seven hells, you're fresh air in this shit-smelling keep!" Robert roared, slapping his knee. "I knew I made the right choice bringing you here. The amount of times I wanted to smash the skull of these cowards who couldn't even complete sentences without sounding like a quivering girl is, truly, more than you can imagine..!"
Benjamin grinned, feeling the tension in the room shift. He could practically hear the gears turning in the heads of the nobles around him, reassessing this strange newcomer who could make the king laugh so easily.
Robert leaned forward on the throne, wincing slightly as one of the sword points dug into his ample fat flesh. "Now then, Gilman. Are you ready to take your place as a lord of the realm? To swear your loyalty to the crown and to me?"
Benjamin paused, considering his words carefully. He knew this was a crucial moment, one that would set the tone for his entire time in King's Landing. Finally, he spoke, his voice clear and confident.
It was time to establish ground rules, he could kill them all without a sweat. They don't deserve unconditional respect.
"Your Grace, I'm ready to do what needs to be done. But let's be clear – I'm not here to kiss ass or play political games. I'm here because you said we could do great things together, and I'm curious to see what that looks like. You want my loyalty? Earn it. Show me that you're a king worth following, and I'll be the best damn ally you've ever had."
Good enough for him, it was that or get turned into minced meat. They had a choice.
The throne room erupted into chaos. Nobles shouted in outrage, guards stepped forward with hands on their swords, and Cersei looked as though she might spontaneously combust from sheer fury. But Robert had a deep frown... that just organically shifted to laughter. So much so that his subjects looked on with concern, had he gone mad?
"By the gods, boy, you've got more steel in you than this fucking throne!" the king declared. "Very well, Gilman, but only because you take me back to the days of my prime!"
Robert sat back with a ferocious smirk on his face, stating."If you were anyone else, I'd have your head on a bloody spike. But you're not. We'll do it your way. Welcome to King's Landing. I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting around here."
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