####
The next day, he had Rhaea and Missandei. On the day after, he once again had Myrcella moaning out, but not underneath him this time. He did her like he did her the first time.
She was sitting on his lap, her back against his chest, his mighty arms passing under her knees and coming up to grab her neck. Dangled like a doll while her battered pussy received his relentless attacks.
Myrcella was on cloud nine, her eyes rolled up, her squirting fluids painting the floor, while his one, two, and third spurts of cream coated her fertile organ with an even more potent spill.
They finally managed to exhaust each other completely by the hour of the wolf, almost three hours past midnight. It was late, and their eyelids were heavy as they relaxed on the bed, Myrcella hugging him from the side while he lay flat.
Her lovely, slender fingers played with his limp cock, while her lips kept sloppily kissing his jaw, neck, and bearded cheek. Their bodies contrasted, one massive, tanned from working under the sun. Hers slender, pale as the moon, with golden hair.
Truly, the four women didn't make him feel the need to find anyone else.
"Myrcella, I want you to stay back in the Red Keep while I'm gone."
"What?" Her eyes opened wide, and she raised her head, stopping her half-conscious, sloppy kisses. "Why? You took Missandei last time."
"Margaery's alone, and you're the one she clings to. Be there. I've got enough battles in my head without fretting over her. She's shattered inside. Stand by her—and I'll reward you when I return."
Not so unreasonable, nor someone to throw tantrums, Myrcella nodded and relaxed again, snuggling closer to his body, pushing her face near his neck. "Very well, I'll do that, Your Grace. Oh, will you visit Lynesse on your way?"
Robert shook his head, reminiscing about the blonde-haired woman. Lyanesse Hightower had initially wished to remain in the Red Keep. But sometimes when he was away in Essos, Lyanesse stumbled upon Edmure Tully in King's Landing. And with ease, she ensnared the Lord of Riverrun, and after just a single night of pleasure, married the man in the Great Sept.
Robert could understand her reasoning. Edmure wasn't the brightest of the bunch, but he was still the Lord of Riverrun, and the Lord Paramount of the Trident, a very significant man in the Seven Kingdoms. He was also rich enough to keep her entertained.
"No, she's a married woman now."
Robert remembered her fondly, heck, he also remembered the raven she had sent him. She had unashamedly declared that the King still had unfettered access to her body, and that if Robert pleased, he only had to visit Riverrun on royal business, and she would spread her legs for him all night.
Tempting, but also immoral. Robert wanted to contain that beast within from going back to old Robert's way. Married women, at least those with living husbands, were off-limits.
"You'll also meet Sansa. Can you give her a letter from me?"
That girl…
Robert was reminded of that night once again. He still couldn't believe he took her virginity, even if it was her own doing, he didn't like that one bit.
"Enough of this now. We'll talk come sunrise."
"Yes." Myrcella chirped and finally stopped twirling his flaccid cock with her fingers.
####
The next few days, Robert slept with Margaery. Having already started to walk, she felt ready to return to her regular duties. But on those nights, Robert gave her his attention—verbal and physical.
After discussing with Qyburn, Robert learned that the issue with Margaery was in her womb. While it no longer bled, it was advised for Robert to not have intercourse with her, as he was likely to go deep.
So, Margaery resorted to using her mouth on him each night, letting her royal husband suckle her nectar-filled tits and rub his fat cock against her slippery lower lips. She was still able to climax, so she was thankful to him. He used his fingers to tease her and give her the pleasure of a married woman.
While she was keen on trying to pleasure him through her rear hole, she was advised not to by Robert. His fat cock was too big, and even if they could, it would still hit her deep, and that could wound her again.
So, his fingers pleasured her, and she used her mouth and delicious, full tits. The King and Queen, wounded in ways, were still no less involved in the bed. She moaned loudly, and he unleashed smears of viscous batter across her face, tits, and at times, in her mouth.
On the last night at Red Keep, after their pleasuring activities, he held her tight in his arms, the quilt covering half their bodies. He palmed her one tit, playfully feeling its fullness. He'd drained them already.
"I won't be long. Once I return, we'll make men of our sons. I'll not have another brat like Joffrey, even if he was no blood of mine," Robert declared.
"Hmm…" Margaery smiled and caressed his warm chest. "I know they'll grow big and beautiful. Robert and Alester—I like the name you chose, my love. Mine seems… unoriginal now."
Robert chuckled, fully agreeing with her. "I agree, but it's understandable. You thought I was dead."
"And then you woke up." She said and moved, sitting up, and while remaining underneath the quilt, she slid up on top of him, straddling his spent cock underneath her equally spent slick folds.
Robert's hands, on their own, went to her round ass, gently spreading his big palms to hold her in place. Even if flaccid, he didn't want to mistakenly slide inside her.
"Mmm…" Margaery leaned forward, hugged his head with her arms, and kissed him deeply. Feeling like a mere twig on top of a thick tree, she let out a breathy, suppressed moan. "You're the most amazing thing to have happened to me."
Robert didn't reply. He feared his words would leave her devastated. He'd only ever loved one woman, and that was in the past. Margaery was his wife, he liked her, he cared for her, but…
"But, I have disappointed you." She said.
"You hav—"
"Shhh…" She laid a gentle finger on his lips, a wistful smile tugging at hers. "I remember when you whispered all those dreams—one babe, then two, then a whole little garden of them. I dreamed of them too. But love… I've not made them real, nor can I in the future. I'm sorry."
Robert sighed, as it was true. He wanted a big brood, five children, at least. But he was fine with two as well. "Don't think of it now."
"I can't stop. I want to, but I cannot. So… I discussed something with Myrcella and she—"
"Seven bloody hells, no!" Robert instantly responded, knowing where that was going. "Gods, look at that girl! Slim as a reed, even younger than you, and hips not made for birthing, even more slender than yours. She'd snap like a twig pushing out a Baratheon babe—and mine don't come small. And I've had my fill of bastards, no more."
"They won't be bastards," she whispered, brushing his cheek with her thumb, eyes shimmering. "She's willing to hide in the shadows for you, to carry your child in silence. I'll wear the lie proudly—fake the belly, play the part. When the babe comes, they'll be ours. Your seed is strong, they won't have golden hair. We've secured the realm, haven't we? An heir for the crown, one for the Reach... But my love, I want more. More of you, more of us."
Robert frowned, her idea possible, but too corrupt. "And Myrcella? You think she'd not want to hear 'mother' from her babe's mouth? That title's a crown to a woman."
"No, my love. Myrcella's heart is hopelessly yours. She would give you sons, daughters, the stars if you asked. And she's dear to me, like a sister. If the little ones call her mother as well, so be it—I shall still be your queen."
Thud!
Robert's head sank back and hit the headboard. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. "We'll discuss this when I return. Myrcella's no babe-maker yet, and gods, she's too slight and soft for the damned burden of birthing."
"Let me tend to her. A little more nourishment, a little more warmth, and she'll grow strong and lovely in all the right places."
With that, Margaery kissed his lips one last time and slid off him, back to his side to really fall asleep.
But as she fell asleep, Robert couldn't. The thought felt scandalous, even if he shared no blood with Myrcella. He saw her as unrelated, but the realm didn't. Realm didn't know the old Robert was dead.
Yet… he did have a dream of having a big brood of little ones running around, laughing and playing.
####
Winterfell
Slap!
"What have you done, Sansa? Gods, where did I fail you? I raised you better than this. You… You've shamed this family."
"Mother…" Sansa cried, her hair a mess, her clothes the same. She had been crying for hours now, even before the first slap from Catelyn hit her.
"Robert Arryn is a good boy—more of a man now than I'd ever hoped, thanks to his fostering. Not like Lysa. He needed a proper match, and I gave him that—I promised him your hand, Sansa! But…"
Filled with rageful fury, Catelyn raised her hand again, but her daughter was already on the floor, a weeping mess. In fright, Catelyn looked around, ensuring nobody could listen to them.
"You lost your maidenhead to him? Robert Baratheon? By the gods, girl, you aimed for gallant men once. What in seven hells possessed you? Was it wine? Was it vanity? You did it of your own will—got him drunk, did you? Gods. I can't even find it in me to blame the man. Imagine the shame, waking to find he'd bedded his best friend's daughter."
Sansa just sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her folded knees. "F-Forgive me… Forgive me, Mother."
"What am I supposed to tell the realm now? To your betrothed? That Sansa Stark is a whore? The King's whore? Gods be good, girl—if you lay with him, you could have at least gotten a marriage out of it! But no—you did this. Not him. You. This house—our name—it's ruined. And when your brother hears, he'll ride for King's Landing with fire in his heart and no mind in his head!"
Sansa nestled her face between her knees and cried harder.
Catelyn shook her head and stormed out of the room. Already having to deal with a wildling invasion, she now had another mess to deal with.
Even worse, the King was coming to Winterfell soon.
I… I'll have a word with him. His wife is barren now… he'll take Sansa… he must.
______________________
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