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Chapter 2 Part 4
=Sith=
290 AC
The Red Keep
King's Landing
During the Greyjoy Rebellion, King Robert Baratheon felt truly alive for the first time since he took the never sufficiently damned crown. Seven years ago, he quickly found out that he didn't have the temperament to be a King. He wasn't meant to sit on a damned uncomfortable chair, listen to petty squabbles that should have been dealt by Lord Paramounts, not the Crown, much less attempt to wrap his head around counting coppers. Robert was meant to swing his Warhammer and break heads. War was in his blood, and his was the fury! Ah, why didn't he f*ck-off to Essos to fight all day, drink with buddies every evening and f*ck new whor*s every night?!
At least he still had wine and whor*s to keep him occupied and as far away as possible from his bitch of a Queen. f*cking Lannisters. Did Tywin really think Cersei could ever replace his beloved Lyanna!? At least that c*nt knew how to throw a tourney. Now, that was an idea. A tourney might be just what Robert needed because, after the war, the tedium of King's Landing was getting to him worse than ever before.
Until then, perhaps a nice little hunt? That was a good idea, Robert decided, because he felt ready to start climbing the walls already. After tasting combat again, all the boring parts of being a King were unbearable.
Robert paused his contemplation when he reached the Small Council Chamber, dearly hoping that Jon called him for something good. Perhaps the Dornish were feeling uppity? The Triarchy might be attempting to seize the Stepstones?
The King's first clue that something was off today came from Pycelle. The old useless bastard was wide awake and alert. The last time Robert saw him that way was when he was busy delivering his children and, more importantly, when the news of the Greyjoys burning Lannisport arrived. That by itself was enough to make Baratheon pay attention.
"Jon," Robert greeted his foster father, ignored Stannis's habitual attempt to grind his teeth to dust, and sat down at the head of the table. "Why did you call us?"
"We have news about the Targaryens. It's not good, Robert." Jon's grave tone perked Robert up.
The King should have been infuriated at the very mention of that cursed family. Make no mistake, Robert was angry. After all, he killed that prick Rhaegar in his dreams every single night. However, if Viserys was gathering an army or something like that, it meant it was smashing time again! For that alone, Robert might give the Targaryen bastard a clean death when he got his hands on him!
"There have been some unbelievable rumors coming from Pentos, Your Grace," Varys simpered.
Robert glanced at his Master of Whisperers and simply stared at the eunuch. The plump creature looked like he was ready to crawl into an early grave.
"Varys took the time to confirm what he had been hearing, and I have to agree, Robert. Without confirmation, no one would have believed it," Jon's words shifted the King's attention.
"What did they do? Hatch a dragon?" Robert chuckled.
"Foul magic, Your Grace," Varys wheezed.
Pycelle nodded gravely in agreement.
"Magic has been gone from the world; everyone knows that!" Robert scoffed. Did he need to find replacements for those two? Wasn't that Jon's job?
"Everything I can find agrees with the rumors my Little Birds brought me, Your Grace," Varys forged on undeterred. "I am sorry to say that magic still exists; I know that for a fact," the eunuch shuddered.
Everyone except for Littlefinger and Stannis grimaced at the reminder of how Varys became a eunuch.
"A month or so ago, two Westerosi knights and a group of Ironborn ran into the Targaryens at the bank of Pentos," Varys finally spoke some sense.
Robert leaned forward, eager to find out what in the Seven Hells had his Master of Whisperers in such a state.
"These people were loyalists to the Crown, so they followed the Targaryens to bring them to you, dead or alive. Rumor has it they boasted so before confronting the exiles."
"Why aren't the Targaryens' heads on spikes on my castle's walls?" Robert demanded. "Did those fools kill each other instead of going for the prize?"
"Viserys Targaryen happened, Your Grace. Everything I can dig up, every rumor my Little Birds can bring me, even a reliable friend in the city, they all agree. The Beggar Prince wielded foul sorcery and slaughtered hundreds when the loyal knights and the Ironborn confronted him. He murdered everyone in the area, safe for his sister, before demanding entrance into the manor of one of the Magisters of Pentos. After watching him murder so many people, Magister Zavis agreed to host the exiles," Varys shuddered as he told the tale and sweated profusely in a way Robert hadn't seen him even on the hottest of days.
"I received similar claims from the Citadel. Rumors of foul sorcery in Pentos wielded by the pretenders brought to Old Town by sailors," Pycelle pipped up.
Robert heard but didn't quite comprehend. Magic of all things.
"Do you really expect me to believe this sh*t?" the King demanded.
"That was my reaction when I first heard, Robert. We would have informed you earlier, but the rumors were so insane we decided to wait for more information," Jon reluctantly admitted.
"I heard the same madness from ships taking port at Dragonstone. Rumors of Viserys being a Sorcerer-Warlord are undoubtedly spreading through the Narrow Sea houses. No one believes it for now," Stannis ground out.
"What is that dragonspawn up to, Varys?"
"Pentos offered him ransom like they do to Khals that arrive with large Khalasars. I know they left Pentos in a warship, guarded by half a Century of Unsullied and with a million gold dragons or so. The most persistent rumors claim that Viserys is heading for Astapor to buy himself an army," Varys explained.
"With that much gold, he can buy himself a large mercenary army," Baelish interjected. "I won't put it past the Golden Company to join him if Viserys Targaryen has that kind of gold to throw around. He is apparently a Beggar Prince no more," Littlefinger chuckled at his quip.
"Stannis, can you intercept the dragonspawn's ship before he can get to Astapor?" Robert speared his brother with a glare.
"If they left a month or so ago, they are past the Stepstones by now. The only ships that could intercept the Targaryens, if they can find them in the first place, would be Dornish," Stannis pointed out.
If anything, the Dornish might help the bastards out of spite.
To everyone's surprise, Robert didn't go into an apocalyptic rage. Instead, he smiled.
"Varys, find more. Stannis, I want you to fully rebuild the Royal Fleet and then expand it! Pycelle, get those useless sacks of sh*t in the Citadel to find out how to counter whatever sorcery Viserys might be wielding!" Robert ordered.
"Preparing for war might be a bit premature at this stage, Robert. We still need to rebuild after the Greyjoy Rebellion. Taxes income will take time to recover," Jon warned.
"We all know that the Targaryens will come for us if they have the means! Sorcery or not, a million dragons can buy a big army! There will be a war, and I will be ready!" Robert happily announced.
"We might be better served to avoid a war. Wars are expensive, I should know," Littlefinger stuck his beak where it didn't belong.
"The Master of Coin is right, brother," Stannis kept being a pain in the ass.
"Jon?" Robert grumbled unhappily.
"We can have them killed. Offer a larger reward. Send people to hunt them down," Littlefinger suggested.
"We have to keep their foul sorcery away from Westeros!" Pycelle agreed. "We must tell everyone how far the Targaryens have fallen!"
"I like that! Make everyone see them for the monsters they are!" Robert gleefully agreed. "Jon, see to it. A Lordship and a million golden dragons for the heads of the Targaryens! Varys, find competent cutthroats and send as many as you can get your hands on to hunt down the dragonspawn!" Robert glared at his brother. "Stannis, make sure to keep your boot on the necks of those Targaryen bootlickers in the Narrow Sea, or I will find someone who can do it properly!
Who would have thought that it would be the damned Targaryens who made him feel alive again?! Robert got up and eagerly headed to meet the Red Keep's Master-at-Arms. He had to go train for the wars to come!
