Samael61
patreon
Chapter 8 - Double Double (R)
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 21:41:18 +0000 UTCStorm’s End
Cersei Lannister was a certified bitch. Whether it was because her parents were cousins or the way she was raised, the only daughter of Tywin Lannister was a cruel, arrogant, hateful, and sadistic bitch.
Her hungry gaze sent shivers down his spine.
The Golden Bitch was planning something, and there was one thing she desired in her life.
To be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Knowing her, being betrothed to Daeron Targaryen must have crushed her dreams, and now she was no doubt trying to sink her claws in him to be the queen, through the might of his dragons.
She had another thing coming.
That is why he had chosen one of the guards in the keep to act as a decoy.
Davon was just a tad shorter than him but had the build to match his. He wasn’t a married man and only had an elderly mother, so he wouldn’t be committing adultery.
Robert had offered him more than enough coin to wed and take care of his mother in return for him acting as a body double.
The prize was too alluring to refuse, and Robert had sent the man to be shaved and cleaned.
—
Renly, for the third time in three days, hugged Robert’s leg, demanding a dragon ride.
“Let me have some food first, Renly, then I’ll take you out for a ride.”
Wishing his parents good morning, he swept the hall with his eyes, watching the guests who were glaring at him.
Price of greatness.
“Father, I am taking Renly for a flight. The rest of you are welcome as well.”
“I’ll go wear something appropriate for a dragon ride.”
—
Renly shouted with all the childish glee of a nine-year-old as the dragons soared over Storm’s End. It was hard to imagine that this child would one day become a man puppeteered by the Tyrells and fight against Stannis for the throne.
Only to be assassinated through the use of blood magic.
But right now, he was just a child, enjoying his life with his parents alive.
He wouldn’t let the little tyke turn out to be such a fool.
—
Cersei watched the beasts circle over the keep where they were staying as guests.
How that oaf, who was foolish enough to attack the Crown Prince in full sight of the Kingsguard and a host of other men, had managed to do what the Targaryens could not for over a century and a half and bring the dragons back to life baffled her.
As it had almost everyone else.
But it could also be an opportunity.
An opportunity to make her the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
A conflict between Robert Baratheon and the Crown was inevitable. The Targaryens would not stand someone other than their house having dragons, and Robert’s fury was already well known.
If he was attacked or insulted, Robert would unleash the might of his dragons, and who else but him would be the King of the Seven Kingdoms after the Targaryens were deposed or dead?
She didn’t like the idea of marrying a brute like him rather than Prince Rhaegar, with his silver hair, amethyst eyes, and noble features, but Rhaegar had chosen the wolf bitch over her.
Better Robert than marrying Daeron, who only stood to inherit Summerhall, a castle that had barely been rebuilt after Aegon the Unlikely burnt it to the ground, along with most of his family.
Her father and Lord Steffon were friends and would no doubt be willing to solve any dishonor inflicted on her through marriage.
—
Robert landed in the courtyard, though Renly was pouting, wanting to go flying again.
“Kiddo, let the others have their turn.” Robert said to the spoiled child, gently lowering him to the waiting arms of his mother.
“Stannis, come on.” He called out to his younger brother, who looked unsure and offered a lame excuse. “I have to help Father with work.”
“I am sure he can excuse you for a short break. Now, come on before I drag you here.” Sometimes you just had to push things with people like Stannis.
“Indeed he will; now go.” Rhaelle gave Stannis a light push, and steeling his nerves, he took Robert’s hand and climbed up.
—
Despite his trepidation, flying felt liberating, as if the earthly matters that plagued him did not matter here.
Flying among clouds took all his worries away, and Stannis smiled.
Robert glanced at his younger brother from the side of his eye and chuckled. His brother rarely smiled, and it was good to see he was enjoying the ride.
—
Stannis was a bit hesitant to see the ride end, but all good things must come to an end.
Next was his grandmother, since his mother and father refused for different reasons.
Their loss.
Dressed in riding leathers, which would be unusual for most ladies, Rhaelle was assisted by both her grandsons to mount the dragon. Once she was secure behind Robert and held onto his broad shoulders, her grandson asked, “Are you ready, grandmother?”
“I was born ready.”
—
“I had always imagined what flying would feel like.” Rhaelle muttered, rubbing her stinging cheeks.
It had been a long time since she smiled so long and unrestrained.
“Does it meet your expectations?” Not like it got any better than this.
Rhaelle pinched her grandson’s cheek. “It far surpasses them.”
“You’re welcome.” Robert cheekily responded after the aging woman stopped her assault.
“You have changed a great deal.” Perhaps too much for it to be normal.
Robert shrugged, playing it cool. “As I said before, whores and drinking could only entertain me for so long.”
“How did you discover the secret to hatching dragon eggs?” Her father almost extinguished House Targaryen in his attempt, and she was naturally curious as to what they had missed.
“It truly is simple once you think about it.” The best place to hide something was to hide it in plain sight.
Now she was even more curious. “Enlighten me.”
“Two things. Fire and blood.” Robert recited the words of House Targaryen, which contained the secret to hatching dragon eggs.
“Blood?” Did the eggs need blood to hatch?
Robert nodded. “Oh yes, you need a sacrifice, a live one, so the dragons could be resurrected.” Since dragons were made with blood magic, which itself was life, it was quite natural for the power to bring the eggs to life to come from blood itself.
“You burned a man alive?” That actually explained what her father, Aegon V, had missed.
He would never consider sacrificing a living person.
“It was a Dothraki rider. Seeing as they are nothing more than slaving bastards, I don’t really feel bad.” He would kill as many slavers as he could and wouldn’t give a damn about them.
Rhaelle stored that knowledge away. “Where did you find the eggs?” Easier to find than the secret to hatch them, dragon eggs were still a rarity in both Westeros and Essos.
Her grandson couldn’t have found them on mere chance.
“I stole them from one of the magisters who I heard was in possession of Blackfyre.” Hopefully she wouldn’t ask how he had heard that.
If Robert had Blackfyre, then House Targaryen would be humiliated more than ever. “Did you find it, then?”
“I did.”
Rhaelle grinned. Now she was sure her father was beating his knees in the afterlife. “You have one of the two ancestral blades of House Targaryen?”
“No.”
She slapped Robert on the shoulder. “Stop playing coy, Robert.”
“I had it reforged and renamed.” Robert answered after a couple of seconds to increase the anticipation.
Rhaelle chuckled, which turned to full-blown laughter.
“Oh, if only my father had seen you, he would have swallowed his tongue.”
“Why did this magister have Blackfyre, or dragon eggs for that matter?” If it was to sell them to House Targaryen, then an offer should have come before Robert stole the sword and the eggs.
“His wife looked Valyrian; it could be because of that.” A Blackfyre, more specifically, but Robert wasn’t in the mood to return to Essos for war and kept it a secret.
“So you have a Valyrian steel sword now?” House Baratheon did not have one, and she was sure Steffon would curse his luck.
“Two actually. I renamed Blackfyre as Stormbringer, and the other, Nightblood.” When the ice zombies came, the more Valyrian steel weapons, the better.
“Two? Where did you get the other?” Now Steffon would definitely bang his head on a wall for losing this.
“I gathered pieces of Valyrian steel, statues, necklaces, rings, and such. Had them all forged into a sword after that.” It took ages, but after destroying multiple khalasars and doing some trading on the side, he had enough to have another sword forged.
It was a while before Rhaelle spoke again, as she was thinking over the things Robert had said. “There is one other matter that made me curious. Why were you hunting the Dothraki? Did they cross you?”
Since it was Robert, it was equally possible he had started a fight with the horse lords.
“No, I was just selling their horses to Braavos dirt cheap in bulk while convincing the Free Cities to pay me to destroy the Dothraki.” One-time payment to destroy a khalasar was more profitable than giving the horselords tribute for years and decades.
“Two birds with one stone. Though, I heard some of the cities were displeased for some reason.” There were grumblings and rumors of them putting a bounty on the Dragonlord’s head, but nothing had come out of it.
Robert grinned. The sour looks the many different rulers of the Free Cities had were something he would cherish. “Oh, that. I convinced each city to pay me to destroy a certain Dothraki khalasar but didn’t let them know my deal with each other. So I was paid more than once for the same work.”
“They couldn’t have been fine with that.”
“They weren’t.”
Both grandmother and grandson had matching grins.
“How great is your wealth now?”
“Four million gold dragons after my expenses and some losses.” No person could be a hundred percent successful in trade, and he had suffered losses.
Rhaelle looked at her grandson sharply. That was an impressive wealth, the kind only possessed by Lannisters and the Crown.
She couldn’t wait to let Steffon know all about this, except the part on how to hatch dragons.
—
Done with flights for today, Robert went to have lunch before finding Stannis.
His younger brother was in the training yard, overlooking the drills the household guards were doing.
Several nobles were also there, including Brandon Stark, who was sparring with Elbert, while Jon and Rickard were conversing about something in a corner.
Rhaegar was there with Arthur Dayne and his number one fan, Jon Connington.
“Stannis, let’s see if your bladework has improved.”
“Very well.”
“Valyrian steel?!”
Robert didn’t forgive the mistake and brought his sword down on Stannis. “Don’t get distracted now.” Better his brother learn it here than out in the field.
Stannis, caught by surprise or not, raised his blade to block. His fighting style was rigid, and while it gave him a solid core to work on, it didn’t leave much place for flexibility.
Winning was a matter of time to Robert, and it came when Stannis overcommitted himself to an attack. Robert took the opportunity, and the younger Baratheon brother found a sword in his neck.
“Not bad, a bit stiff, but you certainly improved.” Their spars were rare, mostly when their father wanted them to, but Robert could see that Stannis had gotten better.
“Thank you.”
Pulling out Stormbringer, Robert threw it to Stannis, who scrambled to catch it. “Here. I am sure this will help you eventually.”
“Another one?!” Shouts rose as Stannis drew the blade, revealing the valuable steel beneath.
“You’re giving this to me?” A Valyrian steel sword was not something to be gifted so easily, after all.
“I have two, and not like dual wielding is a good idea.” Unlike what some show writers would have you believe.
Stannis was speechless, an event as rare as the sword he was holding. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just take good care of Stormbringer, that’s all.”
—
Eventually, the sun had set, and it was time for bed.
The guard, Davon, had cleaned up well, and Robert discreetly sent the man to his room, and with a little bit of luck, there would be a very amusing show come tomorrow morning.
