Ch15. The reaction of the King's Landing

Small Council Room, King's Landing:

Robert Baratheon cumbersomely dragged his heavy weight towards his seat and dropped into the chair, making it creak in protest. He huffed in annoyance at having to leave his bed with two young fifteen name-days old juicy girls from yesterday night's fun, just waiting to wet his cock again in any way he wished. He always wondered where Littlefinger managed to find these women. He asked for a girl under ten once, just out of curiosity, really not expecting him to deliver. But when the next evening a nine name-days old shy naked brunette with curly hair appeared in his bed...

The girl was just barely older than his son, Joffrey! That moment, he cursed Littlefinger to any and all sisterfucking Targaryens he knew.

Despite his reputation, he only made the girl serve him orally and gave her ten dragons on the side, out of pity, telling her to find a better life for herself. He knew if she came back to Littlefinger, saying the king did nothing to her, the little shit would flog her at the least. Robert at least hoped Petyr had enough humanity to not do to the little girl what he did normally in such a situation.

He was aware of the strange coincidences happening to girls that did not manage to get fucked because he fell asleep. Every time he asked for such a girl again, mostly due to shame from falling asleep, Petyr oddly said they either moved away, quit the job, or met some tragic fate. Mostly bandits, he was full of shit. Hah, the rat-ass thought Robert was stupid!

Robert still reminisced with a fondness the crimson-cheeked delight the little munchkin's face showed at receiving so much money. He was very tempted to let her 'thank' him and fuck her when he saw her cute round face. It was not like the girl was a virgin and most likely served numerous men already, the devil whispered to him.

But he was Baratheon and as such, he had his pride and morals... however skewed they were. Fucking sisters and small girls was way out of his comfort zone to do it even when piss-drunk!

As the memory somewhat annoyed him even more, the first thing he did was to reach for a goblet of wine in front of him and empty it at once.

"More!" He shouted and was promptly served more wine.

Heh, rebelling really was the smartest thing he ever did! Then he remembered the face of his wife and regretted ever doing so. No matter how pretty her face was, she was no Lyanna. No, she was, ugh, Lannister. He was almost sick every time he went to her chambers for sex. In the morning he always remembered he just diddled a Lannister and he had to spend the morning drinking to get his mind off the fact. Well, at least that was the case when he was not having his special Lannister-purifying ritual by tasting at least three whores at once while drowning in wine. Nothing less would get the Lannister taste off of him!

But for all her faults, his wife had a supreme body. No wonder they made three beautiful kids, even if they are so... Lannister-looking, geh. That tidbit, he will never forget the blond bitch. There was just no Baratheon in them! He never saw the fury! The might! The strength! The...

He sighed dejectedly and got even more annoyed than previously.

"Start the meeting before I start bashing your heads on the table!" He shouted harshly, making the members of the small council flinch, bar the Varys.

Robert liked Varys. Despite having no dick, the man had the balls of gold. Oh, he knew the man was as treacherous as they come. He was no idiot. But he still liked him. Plus he was useful. His little birds, Robert chuckled and pondered if the name is due to Varys compensating for the lack of certain bits. Anyway, his little birds, heh, always discovered something dangerous in time. The latest example was the rebellion. Robert knew about it before it even started!

"Certainly, your majesty," Varys stated calmly. "This," He pointed at a letter in front of the Grand Maester. "was brought by a raven all the way from the Iron Islands. It seems, a new Lord took the reins over the area."

Robert listened, not bothered in the least. He stormed the islands once, he can do it again. Some upstart rising to power is nothing to worry about. He just downed another goblet of wine, shrugging the facts.

"More worrying is that my little birds," Robert chuckled yet again. "are oddly quiet."

This stopped everyone in the room short. They knew well how effective the spy network of The Spider was. His contingency plans had contingency plans. If someone is able to fully cut off his spy network from an area such as Iron Islands, then that was seriously worrying.

"Whatever," Robert waved his hand dismissively. "send the shit a letter telling him to come to King's Landing and kneel in front of me while swearing loyalty. That would do." He gruffed, his eyes glaring at the wine boy standing with an empty wine-sack and awkward expression.

"No, wine, huh?" He asked, irritated. This quickly became his anti-stress ritual. Scolding stupid wine boys after he drank all the wine. "Then go and GET MORE!" He shouted, his eyes danced in mirth as the dipshit scurried away, looking for more wine.

Robert snorted as he turned his eyes back towards his small council.

"I shout the exact same thing at these idiots since I became the king." He shook his head in amusement. "Yet, they never learn. Seriously, no wonder they are servants. Which idiot even employs them."

"Ahem, I may not have picked them personally but I certainly pay them." Petyr awkwardly coughed and tried to smile as if he was not just insulted in his face. In a moment, he calmly continued. "More importantly, your majesty, the new Lord of Iron Islands won't come."

"Won't come." Robert muttered. "Won't come? The little shit won't come!?"

"Yes, in his letter it is certainly stated as such." Varys nodded, discreetly glaring at Petyr, the new master of the coin who got that position by providing whores to the king, as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Varys knew a lot of coins were expended in the last rebellion. Much more than should have been. He could clearly see the greed and thirst for conflict on Petyr's face. The master of the coin was not yet as politically savvy to hide these things from him. Not yet. He was too young, far too young.

Albeit Varys didn't want to, he had to intervene. And he had such high hopes Robert would die in the rebellion. Fate was such a cruel mistress!

Another heavy expense on yet another war would have felled down more peasants by the means of hunger than the war itself. Before he could open his mouth again to prevent the king's outburst of rage, though, John Arryn, The Right Hand of the King, started speaking.

"Robert, our Master of Laws might give you a better view of the situation." He said, knowing what worked on Robert.

Robert's angered face became blank in the matters of seconds. Instead of swearing as was usual, he patiently looked at the old, barely breathing Master of Laws who was half-asleep. Clicking his tongue he remembered he swore to ask John for a worthy replacement two years ago. And yet, he forgot. Typical.

The Master of Laws stirred and rubbed his old eyes.

"Ah?" He wiped his drool slowly, quickening only when he noticed the twitching eyes of his colleagues and the king. "Yes, yes." He tried to sound confident while he searched his memory for what could be going on. "The... situation?"

"Yes, the situation..." Varys stated with a blank face as his eyes flashed mockingly.

"Our situation, yes." Petyr openly chuckled.

John Arryn, instead of commenting, handed the old Master of Laws the letter.

The small council waited ten minutes for the man to read the letter, their lips twitching every time when they saw his eyes stray again upwards while narrowing in a sign he either didn't see well enough or couldn't understand the meaning of the letter.

John Arryn saw Robert was about to grab the poor old man and throw him out of the window from sheer rage. He had to quickly intervene so, instead of letting the Master of Laws read the letter himself, he read it aloud pretending it was for the entire council to spare the pride of the old man.

"Ah? I understand." The Master of Laws mused as he deliberately rubbed his chin. "The Lord of the Iron Islands has the full right to do something like that." He said in a self-assured drawl.

That was the breaking point for Robert as he leaped on his feet, his expression rageful but before he could reach for the man to strangle him, John Arryn loudly bashed his fist on the table.

Awkward silence permeated the room, being broken only by the sound of King dropping back into his seat.

"Continue." John Arryn said to the frightened old man as if nothing happened.

"Yes, yes." The Master of Laws distractedly agreed. "The treaty in which the Iron Islands joined the Seven Kingdoms is different from others. They have more rights and freedom. His letter said it clearly. They accept Robert Baratheon as the king of the Seven Kingdoms. That means they accept him as their king still."

Robert breathed out in a 'huff' as he heard that. All that trouble and anger for nothing! Couldn't they tell it to him straight away? Do they need to go around and around and then across only to come backward to meet him in the middle? His advisors are idiots...

"The treaty allows them to politely, and I am forced to put emphasis on the word 'politely', refuse coming into the King's Landing, and accept the new King via raven. Which they did. I am sorry Your Majesty but legally they did everything right. You do not have just cause to march into a war with them." The Master of Laws proclaimed, souring Petyr's expression as Varys smirked internally.

"Piss on that!" Robert exclaimed loudly. "The ironborn scums clearly accept me as their king! Who cares who is their new Lord. You called me here for nothing!" He stood up and angrily marched towards the door.

"Where are you going, Your majesty? We have more matters at hand..." John tried to stop him, only for Robert to glare at him.

"I am going to do something worthwhile with my time! I am going to fulfill my duty as a man and fuck the girls waiting for me in my bed!"