Various cries were heard, but nobody attacked him. Heck, the men who held any weapons instantly threw them away and stepped further back.
It might work this time.
Non-stop, without facing any challenges, Robert passed the blood-soaked grounds he had decorated over the last two nights and finally stood in front of the golden tent. Nobody was guarding it that night.
"Give me the pretender and Jon, and you can walk away with your lives. Defy me, and I'll butcher the lot of you!" Robert roared. "I will count to ten!"
I'm hungry.
"One!"
"Two!"
A lot of frantic activities became audible throughout the camp. A few men in golden armor came running but instead of fighting Robert, they ran into the golden tent.
"Five!"
"Six!"
Woosh!
The curtained entrance of the golden tent was spread open. The men who'd run in before came back out, pushing and shoving blue-haired Aegon and Jon Connington.
"I thought you'd have run off by now." Robert felt pleased at the positive result. "Make them kneel."
Thud!
The men of the Golden Company obeyed Robert and kicked the back of the knees of Aegon and Jon. The two men fell down with a painful thud.
"No, shove their faces into the dirt."
Thud!
The men of the Golden Company obeyed him like his word was the law. In no time, Aegon and Jon had their faces coated in dirt.
"Didn't I say? I'd return with your heads. Shame about Oberyn—I crushed his to bits. But you two—I'll have your heads preserved and brought to King's Landing."
With that, Robert lifted his sword and walked beside Jon Connington's prone body. He put one foot on the man's back and then aimed his blade at the neck.
"Any last words?" He asked.
"You're a demon," Jon barked.
Woosh!
Robert beheaded the man with ease. Then he walked over to Aegon and pressed his foot much harder on his back. Hearing the cracks of his ribs, he chuckled.
"You'd have lived a much longer life if you hadn't come after me," Robert said and aimed at the neck. "Ambitious lot, you Targaryens… that is if you are one."
"What are you?" Aegon growled, fear, panic, and regret visible on his face. If hopelessness had a face, this was it. "H-How did you… How can you be so…"
"God knows."
Woosh!
Young Griff, the supposed Aegon VI, Pretender, supposed Prince—His head rolled with an expression that would be remembered for centuries to come. The face of defeat, loss, and hopelessness.
A rising, hopeful king, now a mockery for the bards to make songs on.
Robert breathed out tiredly and walked into the golden tent.
"Oh?"
To his surprise, he found another man.
"You must be the Captain-General of the Golden Company." Robert didn't even bother looking at the man, cowering in one corner. "Where is the chest?"
"T-There!"
Robert followed the direction and quickly began packing for his journey ahead. He also grabbed a new set of clothes, boots, and a fine sword. He prepared multiple pouches of gold in various currencies for himself and hid some inside his breeches too. He then packed the heads of Jon and Aegon in sacks and tied them neatly after sealing the bleeding area with fire and wax.
Finally, he grabbed Oberyn's spear that just lay there on the side.
"It seems the end of the Martells is not too far," he muttered and looked at the Captain General. "How are you connected to Westeros?"
"M-My great-grandsire rise in First Blackfyre Rebellion."
Woosh!
Robert threw the spear at the Captain General and killed him on the spot.
"Decades have passed yet their ambition remains."
With that, he grabbed an apple in a nearby basket and walked out of the tent. Although his body was still dirty and reeked of blood, his clothes were clean.
"Jaqen." Robert found the Faceless man waiting for him outside the tent. "Where can I get these heads stuffed and preserved?"
"A man would need an alchemist for such a thing. In Volantis, they are many."
"Volantis it is then." Robert began walking towards the camp's exit. He knew the Selhorys town was nearby so he hoped to stay the night there.
He didn't bother with the Golden Company. Their existence didn't concern him and left them to their own devices.
Seeing that Jaqen was still following him, Robert decided to use him for information. "Where is the largest fighting pit in Essos?"
"That would be in Meereen."
"Oh?" Robert hummed and scratched his unkempt beard. "Last I heard of the Mother of Dragons, she departed Qarth. Where is she now?"
"A girl has taken Astapor and Yunkai, her Unsullied marching at her word," Jaqen said.
She's going for Meereen next?
Suddenly, Robert had an idea. Since he was already in Essos, it was better to finish the job for good. Much before it reaches his borders.
"Jaqen, you said you're here to guide me through Essos. Then take me to Meereen and aid me become a fighter in their largest pit?"
"A man has a desire, he will take you to Meereen."
"Brilliant!" Robert roared, his gaze fixed on the town in the distance. "But before that, find me an alchemist."
####
Tired, Robert entered Selhorys, a walled Volantene town. It was grand, larger than even King's Landing and the Oldtown, and yet it was called a mere town. Jaqen left him as soon as they entered the town.
Entering the town wasn't hard with the gold he'd gathered from the Golden Company. But he still looked rather bloodied, his clothes fresh but reeking from the slaughter he had unleashed.
He walked the cobbled paths, admiring the towers and domes spread throughout. The sandstone walls sheltered shops, stalls, and storehouses along the piers. But Robert continued walking until he arrived in front of a dockside brothel that looked quite well maintained, its entrance well-lit with lanterns made of colored glass.
This'll do. Robert walked into the establishment, his nose was instantly attacked with erotic spices. There were silken curtains all around, the floor covered in fine tiles, and murals of naked women lined the walls.
It being evening, there were a lot of men entering and leaving the premises, women clad in loose but beautiful garments led someone in or out at times, and others welcoming customers.
Whores of all kinds were there. Young ones, old ones, petite ones, fat ones, black-haired, blonde-haired, dark-skinned, pale-skinned—a heaven for a whore loving bastard. And to that establishment's luck that evening, this was indeed the whore-loving Robert.
"Skoros kostagon nyke jiōragon ao?"
"Hah?" Robert grunted, turning his gaze downward, his presence looming over all in the room. The fine, middle-aged woman seemed to be a brothel keeper. She spoke Valyrian, and while Robert didn't know the full language, he knew the words. "Aye, give me a fine room with a bath, and a lass to scrub the grime off me."
Quickly, the woman began speaking a broken, accented Common Tongue. "Room, bath, girl—money?"
Robert presented her with a few Honors, the currency of Volantis.
The woman beamed with a smile right away and pointed around at various girls walking by, some coming over at her signal. "Which girl?"
Robert scratched his unkempt beard and looked at the fine ladies. However, one stood out like a sore thumb and grabbed his attention. She looked younger than other whores, slim and beautiful, with long silvery hair. Her eyes were blue and her skin pale as snow, her loose, silver gown clung to her body with thin straps on her shoulder, giving an ample view of her large bosom.
"She'll do." Robert pointed at the girl, the silver-haired whore.
Quickly, the brothel keeper ordered the silver-haired girl in Valyrian.
"This way." The silver-haired girl, smiling, approached Robert and wrapped her arm around his mighty one, unbothered by the stench of death. She was delicately sized against him as most girls, but she was tall, similar to Catelyn. He let her drag him upstairs to a room.
Before he knew it, he was ushered into a comfortably sized room with a canopied bed at one end, and a tub with water on the other. There was also a small table and chair beside one wall. The lone window was closed, curtains pulled over it.
The light was ample, flickering, and bright.
"At last, a bloody bath," Robert tiredly cursed and lifted his tunic, throwing it away. Then he discarded his breeches and walked completely bare towards the wooden, round bathtub with steaming hot water. His feet left loud thuds on the wooden floor, and he didn't really bother about nudity while in the presence of a whore.
Just as he stepped into the tub, he looked at the silver-haired girl, her eyes tracing his large frame from top to bottom. From his muscled shoulders to his impossible-to-completely-erase belly, his muscled legs, and then… the impressively large tool.
"You have no wounds, Master," she spoke, her Common Tongue accented but accurate.
Robert chuckled and sat down in the tub, displacing enough water that some fell out. "Hah! Aye, no wounds for it was the blood of my enemies. Come, scrub me."
The girl quickly grabbed the scrub cloth and stepped behind Robert outside the tub. Still clothed, she used her slender arms to scrub over his shoulder, reaching all the way to his belly while her face constantly neared his ear, her soft breaths audible.
"What's your name?" Robert asked.
"Rhaea, Master."
"Well, Rhaea, use a bit more strength in those scrubs," Robert ordered and relaxed in the water, legs sprawled, arms spread on the edge of the tub, his head tilted back.
It being her job, Rhaea finished scrubbing his chest, belly, and then arms one by one.
While a little crass, this was no longer the old, whore mongering Robert who saw nothing in a woman but her cunt. To a small degree, he sympathized with Rhaea, having to do what she was doing for him every single day with no chance of ever escaping it. Such was life under slavery. While he abhorred it, he had no grand ambitions to erase slavery from the world. What happened in Essos was none of his business.
"Enough. Join me in the water now," he ordered.
Rhaea was quick to walk around the tub again and stand in Robert's sight. Then, she pushed the thin straps of her gown over her shoulders and let the silver cloth fall and pool around her delicate, pale feet.
"Beautiful," he instinctively praised.
Slim and beautiful, her waist was a tight curve, her hips slightly wider, round, and appetizing. Her breasts were voluptuous, enough for him to knead with the full grip of his mighty hand, her pink nipples tight and tense already, taut outwards. The tight slit between her legs was neatly bald, that flower peeking through the thigh gap.
Rhaea's dainty pale feet stepped into the warm water and spread her legs to try and straddle Robert, thinking he wanted her to fulfill her services in the water. Her charming face carried a hint of determination after seeing how large Robert truly was.
But instead, Robert caught her hand, stopping her and making her turn around. He pulled her to sit between his legs and lean back into his chest. His arms suddenly hugged her body from underneath her armpits; his mighty, muscular arms squeezing her as if seeking her warmth. Her shimmering breasts spilled above.
He took a deep breath of her scented hair; a small bit of comfort and indulgence.
"I know…" Robert muttered near her ear. "I know most men probably pounce on you the moment you stand bare. Aye, I'm tempted, but I have the whole night for that. Right now I'm seeking comfort, not a cunt."
"Hehe." Rhaea giggled for the first time. Her pounding heart slowly relaxed in her chest. She'd seen far too many vile men to feel comfortable in such a position where she couldn't even look at the man. It was a vulnerable position, especially with a man of Robert's size. "You're different. You don't act like a common sellsword or…"
"Damn right, woman. I'm no common man," Robert praised himself and eased his grip on her body. He relaxed back and began kneading her supple breasts.
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