Chapter 51 - The North, The Septa & The Gold II

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The journey was slightly longer than one month. But Robert took two months since he had the situation of Vale to handle. Using his royal authority, he removed Lysa Tully from command of House Arryn. Although he didn't have such authority, he threatened to remove House Arryn from nobility and strip away all the titles if she didn't do it.

The woman had to step down as she wanted her son to become the Lord someday. However, Robert wasn't so foolish as to allow that woman to stay near the boy. So, he ordered Lysa to return to Riverrun and leave young Robert Arryn under the care of Lord Royce to be fostered and prepared to take the mantle of the Lord in the future.

With that, he resolved the Vale crisis as well.

Finally, the North, Riverlands and the Vale were no longer in a crisis. Finally, he had the chance to focus his attention on Westerlands and Dorne.

But he knew he couldn't win alone this time. No, he needed aid from the Reach. Sadly, the only way to receive it was by entertaining Olenna Tyrell's ambitions.

Over the days and nights during the journey, as he relieved his bodily needs on Osha, he prepared himself to entertain Margaery Tyrell too. But he wanted to be in control and leave no chance for that girl to plot against him.

Osha was the only woman he could go wild and intense with, so he tried all the ways possible to control himself. The issue he faced was how Robert's innate lust took the reins whenever he'd be in a sexual exchange. He didn't want that. He wanted to be in control from the beginning to the final release.

Twice, if not thrice, on every single day Robert made use of Osha's willingness. He knew Margaery was far more frail, delicate, and slender like a flower, so he trained himself on Osha. How to control his thrusts, his hands, his needs, and how to control the climax.

What he did in those two months of travel was something Ned hadn't done in all his life before dying. So much sexual exchange and so much depravity.

Yet, a part of him loved it, a part of him felt disgusted, and a third part justified it as mere training no different than swinging swords.

Eventually, his entourage entered King's Landing to much cheers from the smallfolk.

The legend of the King's victories had already spread throughout Westeros. Robert's name which was losing steam and only spoken with curses and mockery had changed into admiration and jealousy.

"Ser Barristan, take me to the Great Sept of Baelor," Robert ordered from his horse.

Between the loud cheers of the smallfolk, Robert soon arrived at the Sept and went up the stairs. Behind him, Osha and the soldiers followed all the way to the main door of the temple.

"Your Grace."

Robert ignored the High Septon and looked around. "Where is Septa Unella? I gave her a command."

"Unella? She's…" High Septon looked behind to his junior Septons and Septas, to get an answer.

"She went to prepare the sewing materials for teaching noble girls," a Septa replied.

"Lead me to her," Robert ordered and walked in. "Barristan, stay. High Septon, you're not needed. I'll speak with you when I'm back."

Quickly after, Robert followed the Septa deeper into the Great Sept. It was a massive building, so they passed through many corridors, and rooms, and eventually neared somewhere in the back of the building.

"In there, Your Grace. That's the storeroom for cotton and sewing materials." the Septa guided.

Robert opened the door and walked straight into the cold, barely lit room. He looked around and soon found the tall figure of Septa Unella, searching for something in wooden boxes.

"Septa."

The woman jolted a bit and jumped to look behind. Her eyes widened at the most unexpected guest. "Y-Your Grace? When did y… Welcome to King's Landing. I heard about your spoils."

Robert looked around, made sure it was just her, and stepped closer to the big-boned Unella. "Septa, what's the progress? Have you disciplined Sansa and Myrcella?"

Unella averted her gaze abruptly, looking sideways. Expressions of fear and disappointment reflected on her face. "Y-Your Grace…"

Robert frowned. The last time he met the woman she looked so confident and devoted to the faith. Now, she stuttered and acted so timid.

"You failed?" he directly asked.

"T-The temptations were too many. Oh, the Seven, please forgive me." Unella, teary-eyed, begged the gods all of a sudden.

She failed? How is that possible?

"Get to the point, woman! What did you do?"

"Oh, Seven! Please, punish me—"

"Look at me!" Robert bellowed and gripped her slender neck with his rough hand. He slammed her back into the wall and pushed into her, holding her there tightly. "Look at me and tell me what happened!"

"I failed, Your Grace. I failed and sinned. The girls are beyond saving… the girls have…" Septa Unella's condition only seemed to deteriorate. For some reason, her face became flustered and her breath ragged even though Robert's hand was gentle on her neck. "They have committed horrible, horrible deeds."

Worry etched on his face, Robert pushed into Septa Unella harder, his hand clutching her neck tighter. He pressed into her bust with his chest, his legs pressing on hers. He had felt something and just wanted to be certain of the doubt.

Septa Unella became even more flustered, her pale face almost plump red. Sweat formed on her forehead, and her entire body squirmed against Robert's. Her breath grew warmer and harsher too.

What happened to her? Tempted by my mere touch?

Robert was no clueless man. He had the experiences of two men in that body. The signs were there. Septa Unella was heated by him in ways a Septa shouldn't. The way she twisted her waist in reaction to his leg stuck between her feet was a clear sign.

"What did they do?"

"Tools! They used vile tools to seduce themselves, Your Grace. They used vile tools on me. I have become this… this…"

Robert instantly knew what the Septa was talking about. He had seen the 'tools' in Cersei's possession before too.

He stepped back quickly and made some space. "Make sure the word doesn't spread. I'll deal with the girls myself."

In a grumpy mood, Robert left the Great Sept of Baelor. He also left Osha behind in the care of the High Septon. She was to be given a place to live for the time being before he made arrangements for her butcher shop.

From there, he got back on his horse and galloped all the way to the Red Keep. He was furious and wanted nothing but to find Sansa and Myrcella to reprimand them.

"Your Grace."

Yet, Robert failed to bring his fury out as soon as he saw Sansa's face at the entrance of the Red Keep castle.

There, Sansa stood in a beautiful gown, hair done well. Beside her were Myrcella and Jon, with other members of the Small Council on the further side.

In all honesty, Robert felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to talk about such intimate details with Sansa. So, when he saw Myrcella and Jon Snow standing side by side, a sudden idea came to his mind.

The realm saw Jon as a bastard, and the realm knew that Myrcella was a bastard.

I should get them married. That's right, I can gift Jon the Dreadfort. He can rule it with Myrcella. He planned and glanced at Sansa. She'll correct her ways once Myrcella is gone.

Furthermore, Robert instantly planned for something. It's time Sansa learns to wield a blade. Training close to handsome knights will change her mind.

"Myrcella." Robert met them one by one. "Sansa, your mother and brothers send letters with me."

Finally, he shook hands with Stannis. "I'll hold a Small Council right away. We don't have time to waste. Where are the Tyrells?"

"Hunting," Stannis replied. "Lord Mace took his family to hunt in the Kingswood."

Robert sighed and walked into the castle. He saw Lynesse standing in the back, so he gestured for her to follow him to his bedchamber. He asked her the same questions as he did with Septa Unella.

With no surprise, he heard an almost similar response. Lynesse claimed she was too scared to get involved after what happened to Unella.

Worried about the two girls, Robert changed his clothes with Lynesse's help. He didn't touch her, or try anything, his mood being too spoiled. So, he went to the Small Council with no time wasted.

The warmth of the South was a welcome feeling. But the castle still felt cold to him. With so many dangers looming over him, he didn't feel at ease.

"Your Grace."

"Welcome back, Your Gr—"

"Enough with the prancing words—sit down," Robert barked, waving off the Council like swatting flies. He dropped into his chair with a thud.

"It was Tywin, damn him. The Squids' first attack was real enough, but the second? A ruse. Tywin's in bed with the Ironborn, and they nearly dragged the Vale in too, if not for Royce's bloody good sense."

The King was angry.

The King needed answers.

Every member of the Council knew what was going on.

"Varys, why didn't I hear of this before they launched an attack?"

Varys straightened his back. "Your Grace, had I known of such a matter, I would have shared it with you. It appears Lord Tywin spared no effort in his pursuit of revenge. However, there is a nibble of information I believe you will find most intriguing. Daenerys Targaryen has been seen making her way toward Qarth."

Robert sneered, "What good is all your talk when I've daggers at my back? I need information on Tywin, Varys—information on every bloody Lord Paramount, on Dorne, on every damn thing. What use are you if my enemies slip past me?"

Robert glanced at Tyrion at that. "What about you? Tell me something good."

"For the first time in years, the Crown has entered a surplus. This means that we're earning more than what we're spending. Trade from Lys has been proven profitable," Tyrion proudly proclaimed, "But be careful, we can't afford endless orgies and tourneys just yet."

Robert chuckled, seeing Tyrion was taking a jibe at his past record. "You, Stannis?"

"The lords of the Stormlands are steadfast in their loyalty. You have no cause to fear the Lannisters."

"That's not enough, Stannis. I need support from the Tyrells too," Robert replied and looked around at the table. "Tywin can't be defeated without the Reach. Unless we're willing to sacrifice every man and boy standing on our side."

"That is correct. My Father is a master of both cruelty and cunning. I'd wager he's already struck deals with half the realm's houses, all ready to plunge a knife in your back when you least expect it. It's his specialty, really—convincing others to do the dirty work while he stays clean," Tyrion added, holding nothing back against his father now. "Olenna is your finest option, though I'd tread carefully. In your haste to dodge the lions, you may find yourself entangled in her thorns."

Robert knew that all too well. That was the reason he was so careful about the Tyrells and their offer.

Merely holding Margaery in my grasp won't be enough.

Sadly, that was the best bet he had.

"Davos, get the fleet on high alert and spread them out. I don't want to hear of our ships burning in some damn surprise attack. I've struck a blow to the Ironborn and Lannisters, and they'll come at us for it." Robert passed orders. "Stannis, make a list of how many men we can rally against the Lannisters. Varys, I want eyes on Dorne, the Riverlands, and the Vale. Don't miss a thing. Tyrion, I need to know how much we can spare for war."

"I'll get to it." Ser Davos stood up first and left. Stannis and Varys followed after.

Seeing only Tyrion remaining in the room, Robert focused on him. "Something to add?"

Tyrion nodded. However, the number of times the short Lannister drank wine and rubbed his hands together showed his nervousness. His hideous face lacked charm but showed enough expressions.

"I… I came upon something interesting… about my father," Tyrion weakly murmured, as if unsure if he should reveal.

Robert noticed the seriousness. "What is it?"

Tyrion straightened his back and stared into the King's violent gaze. "Lannisters are out of gold."

"Hah!" Robert laughed.

"..."

Yet, Tyrion remained quiet.

Quickly, Robert at the front of the psyche left and Ned took the front seat. He jumped from the chair and walked to Tyrion's side, handling the matter seriously. "That's impossible. Casterly Rock is ful—"

"It was. For centuries, it was mined, and now…" Tyrion looked at the goblet of wine with uncertainty. "Although I don't know how dry the mines have run, I know that my Father took loans from the Iron Bank during the rebellion and until recently."

He's serious. Robert discerned from the look on Tyrion's face.

He understood why the man was so hesitant. By revealing that to him, Tyrion doomed House Lannister's coming generations.

"Tyrion." Robert placed a soft hand on the dwarf's small shoulder. "Will you remain loyal to the Crown and the realm?"

Tyrion chuckled self-depreciatingly. "I'm a simple man, Your Grace. I have ambitions for riches, and women, not land and glory. As long as the Crown respects me, I will respect the Crown—like now."

"That's good to hear, Tyrion Lannister… Lord of Casterly Rock."

Tyrion chuckled at those words. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Robert patted his shoulder and walked away.

"Bring me the ledger before night. Until then, I'll see the Tyrell girl and… entertain her."

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