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Chapter 9 - Oops (R)
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 19:52:01 +0000 UTCStorm’s End
Tywin Lannister made haste to Robert Baratheon’s quarter.
A servant had come to inform him that Cersei was missing and that she was last seen going towards Robert’s room. He feared the worst.
Bursting into the room, he found his daughter sound asleep on the bed with a man buried under the covers. Cersei woke up due to the commotion, while the man barely stirred.
“Cersei, what have you done?” Tywin looked ready to erupt and strangle his daughter with his own hands.
The prideful lioness wasn’t apologetic at all and grinned like a cat instead. “What needed to be done. You are friends with Lord Steffon; convince him to wed me to Robert now that we have lain.”
Steffon chuckled. Robert had played well, and he couldn’t be prouder. “One problem, young lady, that’s not my son.”
“What?”
The man slowly rose, and while he had a similar build to Robert, muscled and hairy, with a shaven face, he, indeed, was not Robert Baratheon.
—
Robert walked to his quarters to see what the commotion was. Stretching while walking, he saw the crowd clustered before his room, and there was a fierce argument going on inside.
“I want that guard’s head.” Tywin hissed, though his father would never back down, not even against someone with Tywin Lannister’s reputation.
It was a matter of pride to Steffon. He wouldn’t let anyone, not even a friend, punish his man for something that wasn’t his fault. “Just because your daughter made a mistake doesn’t mean you can hold my man responsible.”
“He should have known better.” The reputation he had created over decades would not be for naught all because of a guard and his daughter’s foolishness.
“Just like your daughter did?” If Cersei had lost her mind, it wasn’t Steffon’s fault.
“Boys, boys. Don’t fight now; you’re old friends.” Robert patted both men on the shoulder, though Tywin was quick to shrug his hand.
“Instead, you should duel to the death.” The offer caught both lords off guard, who looked bewildered.
Robert nodded to his father appreciatively. “Father, I’ll be cheering for you.” He had no doubt Steffon Baratheon was a greater fighter than Tywin Lannister.
“There will be no duel. That guard deflowered my daughter; his punishment is clear.” Tywin ground out.
What Robert wouldn’t give for a camera to immortalize this moment.
But it was about to be even sweeter.
Pointing at the bed where the act had taken place, Robert pointed out something very obvious that everyone was missing. “There is no blood, though, and I did sleep around enough to know how this works. So either the guard didn’t touch your daughter, or she wasn’t a maiden in the first place. There were sharp gasps at the insinuation. Tywin yanked his daughter off the bed to inspect for any blood, but he found only remnants of a coupling—no red stain to suggest that his daughter had been an untouched maiden.
Bristling, Tywin dragged his daughter out of the room.
“Damn, what a bitch.” He would definitely pay the guard more coin for the trouble.
—
Tywin would never accept any wrongdoing on his family’s part, no matter how evident it was, and still demanded Davon’s head for daring to touch a noble woman, regardless that she started it first.
Robert told the guard to demand a trial by combat and declared himself as the champion. As expected, Tywin had sent ravens to summon Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, to fight as his champion.
—
“What were you thinking?!” And his father was back to shouting, though the grin no doubt made it hard to keep the serious facade.
Robert put his legs on the table with a lazy posture, not concerned in the slightest. “Sheesh, no need to shout, old man; I am right in front of you.”
“Do you know how dangerous Gregor Clegane is?” Steffon had seen the monstrous knight in a duel once and how quickly he had crushed his enemies with unmatched brutality.
The Lord of Storm’s End wasn’t sure if he could defeat the Mountain in a duel.
“Do you know how dangerous I am?” He hadn’t just been letting his dragons do all the fighting. Khals, Bloodriders, the Unsullied, Pit Fighters of Meereen, Norvoshi Bearded Priests, and Water Dancers.He had fought and bested them all in either one-on-one or three-on-one fights.
He could handle Gregor Clegane.
His father took a minute to calm down. “Is risking your life for that guard really worth it?”
Robert snorted. “Risking my life? There isn’t a man on this continent that can pose a threat to me in a duel. And honestly? Seeing Tywin Lannister’s face sour like that is worth fighting Gregor Clegane.” The only fighters he would worry about were Barristan Selmy and perhaps Arthur Dayne, though the latter had nowhere near the feats Barristan the Bold boasted.
“He is right, Steffon; stop pushing him.” His grandmother admonished her son. “The mighty lion, brought to his knees by his perfect daughter. No one will ever let him forget this embarrassment, just as he never let the Seven Kingdoms forget about the Tarbecks and Reynes.”
Rhaelle had never liked Tywin and how he had been allowed to extinguish two houses down to babes not even able to walk. Tarbecks and Reynes definitely deserved punishment, but not like that.
“Honestly, what was that girl thinking? That Tywin or Steffon could force you to wed her?” Cassana had met Cersei on rare occasions when the two families were together, and the girl left much to be desired behind her mummer's farce.
“Probably. Then again, her parents are cousins, so it might have made her more stupid compared to an average person.” He should definitely do something about all the incestuous relations going around.
Eight thousand years had already turned everyone into paranoid, power-hungry morons; no need for it to progress further.
Or maybe that was just how they were raised.
“To be honest, I never liked Cersei.” Stannis could not explain his reasons, as it was more instinct than anything else, and had kept his mouth shut.
Force was strong in this one. “Believe me, this is nothing compared to what I know.”
“And what do you know, brother?” What other secrets did Cersei Lannister hide?
“Enough that it would take a century for House Lannister to stop being a laughingstock of the realm. Sure you want to know?”
Steffon intervened. “I don’t. Tywin and I are old friends, though I don’t know if it is worth something anymore. Still, I don’t wish to hear his secrets.”He didn’t want to hear anything about Tywin right now, good or ill.
“Alright, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“How considerate of you.”
“I know, right? I am great like that.” Robert smiled with eyes closed, acting oblivious to annoy his father.
It was fun, and the old man needed mental stimulation.
“Forget the Lannisters; how did you hatch the eggs?” Steffon remembered the day when King Aegon the Unlikely, his grandfather from his mother’s side, had gone to Summerhall to hatch dragon eggs, only to burn down the castle, along with most of House Targaryen.
“Are you sure you feel like lying to the King when he inevitably asks you?” They were cousins and had grown together, and just because Robert disagreed with the Targaryens, these bonds would not disappear.
Thinking about it, Steffon agreed. “That probably is for the best,” and changed the subject, “Another thing, thank you for the Valyrian steel sword.It makes me proud to see that you have grown so much, both in mind and in renown.”
Robert chuckled. “What can I say, old man? You’re welcome.”
Now that the matter of the duel and dragons was shut, the Lady of House Baratheon focused on more immediate issues. “Husband, what did the king say about the Summerhall matter?”
“He finally agreed that we gave enough coin for it.” Robert didn’t like that answer.
“I feel like I am missing something.” Why would his family pay for the reconstruction of Summerhall of all places?
Stannis gritted his teeth, and Robert knew it wasn’t something good. “The King had decreed that House Baratheon was to aid in restoring Summerhall as further punishment for your actions at Harrenhal.”
Exiling Robert and breaking the promise to wed Princess Shaena to his elder brother was already withdrawn.
Levying further punishment was unnecessary, and his father had protested it, only for the king to listen to his lickspittles rather than his cousin.
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand gold dragons.” Robert sighed out of relief. That was nothing.
“I’ll cover that as soon as my ships arrive.”
It was the least he could do, except maybe squeezing it out of the Targaryens somehow.
“It was the subject of many conversations, the Dragonlord’s war against the Dothraki. Is that how you earned your wealth?” Steffon remembered his royal cousin ranting about how the Father of Dragons was wasting time warring against the horse-riding savages rather than flying to Westeros.
“Yes, I hunted the Dothraki to…” Robert explained his scheme to earn money: how he sold the Dothraki horses to Braavos in bulk and really cheap, looting the horse lords, taking coin from the other Free Cities multiple times to destroy one horde, and dabbling in trade.
“Overall, I earned around five million, and of course there were losses and expenses, so I
I have four million gold dragons now. One million of it is on ships sailing here, while the rest is safe in the Iron Bank.” Sometimes he, and his dragons of course, indulged in a bit of luxury, and not every business was a success, bringing his expenses to around one million gold dragons.
Far be it from them having some quality family time, Arthur Dayne showed his face after he was granted entry into the solar. “Lord Steffon, Prince Rhaegar would like to talk to you and Lord Robert.”
Time for him to make his exit. “Too bad I have other matters to attend to.” Robert rose and headed for the door, though Dayne ever so slightly stepped in his way.
“Such as, my lord?” He could guess that the White Cloak’s pride was hurt now that Robert was running the show and he was powerless to do anything.
“Matters related to dragons, nothing Rhaegar or you would know anything about.” It was the correct thing to say, at least if you wanted to irritate your enemy, and the Sword of the Morning’s hand twitched.
“Come on, give me an excuse.” Robert whispered. The distance was short enough for him to break Arthur’s arm before he could draw Dawn.
Shouldering past the Kingsguard, Robert left the room.
—
He didn’t even leave the floor before crossing paths with Rhaegar and his cronies, mainly Gerald Hightower, who was following the prince around as another guard, and Jon Connington.
Robert was sure the Head of House Connington was trying to suck Rhaegar’s peepee.
Silver hair, purple eyes, and very fair features—he only needed long, thin ears to pass off as an Elf. “Cousin, did Ser Arthur not tell you that I wished to speak?”
“He did; I just didn’t care.” Gerold Hightower was more expressive in his displeasure than Arthur Dayne, as his face scrunched up, but Robert didn’t really care about him either.
“I wished to speak to you regarding something important, something that concerns the Seven Kingdoms as a whole.” There was only one matter that fit the criteria.
Perhaps he would play along. “Do you mean the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised?”
His guess had Rhaegar excited. “You know it?”
“More than you do, but I have nothing to tell you.” Maybe he should keep edging Rhaegar, giving him bits of information to let the Crown Prince reach conclusions, false ones, of course.
“Not even if it concerns a certain raven?”
So it was confirmed that these two were in contact. “If you two are getting along, do tell him to stop watching me, or I am going to kill him sometime.”
Robert wasn’t in a hurry to journey to the frigid north, even with dragons.
“He claims that things are not as they are supposed to be.” Rhaegar’s words stopped Robert from leaving.
Bloodraven somehow knew the changes in the timeline then, but how?
“He is right, something did change, greatly, and while I know what it is, I don’t know the one responsible for it.” It must have started before or during Queen Rhaella’s pregnancy with Shaena, who was a stillborn. With her and all the following children alive, the timeline had gone to hell.
Aerys wasn’t nearly as mad or paranoid as his canon counterpart, there was no Defiance of Duskendale, and House Targaryen was stronger than ever.
“What of the prophecy? What do you know that I don’t?” And they were back to the prophecy.
If Rhaegar had a lick of sense, he would prepare the kingdom, subtly, against the Night King, rather than chase a prophecy.
“I could tell you, but not for free.” Honestly, giving the information to the Targaryens could actually work in his favor.
Rhaegar considered it. “What do you want?”Gold? Riches? Land? His position as heir to Storm’s End?
“Convince your father to acknowledge me as the new owner of Blackfyre and Darksister.” He already had Blackfyre, though none but him and his grandmother knew, and finding Darksister shouldn’t be a problem once he threatened the answer out of Bloodraven.
“You want our family heirlooms?!” Rhaegar was offended, and Robert snorted.
“Heirlooms that you long stopped searching for. Otherwise, don’t bother me.”
—
His ships arrived a week later, carrying a million gold dragons, his armor and weapons, silk, spices, and other luxury goods as gifts to his family.
Perhaps the part he was most waiting for was the flight suit, something that another dragon-riding franchise had inspired him to make. It was already tested—thanks to the unwilling slavers he had thrown off cliffs—and was perfectly safe to use.
He had three dragons; falling to his death wasn’t something to worry about.
