GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

"Robb!" Rickon ran quickly and hugged Robb.

Clank!

Theon lowered his dagger and dropped it to the floor. At that, Dacey rushed in and picked up the crippled Bran in her arms. With that, the two boys were safe.

"Since only one of you gave me an answer," Robert coldly stated all of a sudden and stepped forward, gripping his warhammer tighter. Red-eyed, he glared at Theon the whole time, his face reminding him of all the Stark men who died in that castle. All the dead bodies he saw that night in many rooms. All the women he found in degrading conditions.

"Aye, a hostage indeed." Robert didn't even try to control his anger anymore. "But Ned treated you well, like a ward sent to him to foster. He fed you, he trained you, but… I am not Ned! I am King Robert Baratheon, and there will be justice—haaaa!"

BAM!

The warhammer swung so fast that Theon failed to react. Before he could even notice, it connected right in the middle of his chest, flinging him back in the air, and his back slammed onto the wall.

"For all the pointless deaths you've caused, no amount of ransom is enough!" Robert stepped closer to Theon, looking down at the boy on his knees. "North is cold, yet warm in welcome—you have overstayed that kindness—ha!"

Splash!

Robert hammered on Theon's back with such intensity that his lungs ruptured, the cracking sound of his ribs audible. He vomited blood from his mouth and lay flat on the floor.

"How many times!"

Bam!

Robert hammered once more, breaking his spine.

"Do I have to show you damn Ironborn your place!"

Bam!

This time his hip bone broke apart.

Bam!

Blood splattered everywhere, Theon's life slowly being taken away, one hammer strike at a time. Robert was a massive man too, and he had years of experience. Each of his strikes was powerful, yet precise enough to not finish him so soon.

"Stop!!" Asha Greyjoy roared just then and grabbed her dagger once again. She rammed it straight on Robert's massive back. But she failed to pierce through his armor much, only giving him a minor flesh wound.

Pa!

Robert slapped her backhandedly straight across the face. Lean and long-legged, Asha was thrown away.

"Know your place, squid!" Robert truly manifested his wicked self that night. "Your brother dies tonight!"

With that, Robert looked back at Theon's groaning, half-dead body. Finally, he raised his hammer high, aiming for the head this time.

Splash!

There was no hope of survival. As soon as the hammer connected, the skull caved in and deformed, split apart, shattering into a bloody mess.

"Lock her in the dungeon!" Robert passed the order while looking at Asha. "Kill every squid left in the castle. Leave no bastard alive—she'll be enough."

"Your Grace, you must treat your wound." Robb stepped closer to him, seeing the dagger was still stuck in his back.

Robert didn't care, however. "The fight's nowhere near done. Send our quickest runner to the camp beyond the White Knife. Tell them to storm Castle Cerwyn and seize it."

Robb passed the same orders to his men and stayed there with Robert. He didn't like how Theon was killed, but if the King saw that as justice, then it was justice.

"Did they hurt you?" Robert focused back on Bran and Rickon.

"They didn't, Your Grace," Bran answered. "They only starved us."

Starving kids in their own home? Robert was emotional about the matter. It wasn't a big deal, but it did make him angry. Iron Islands has no place in the Seven Kingdoms!

"Have them fed," he ordered Robb.

I still can't feel calm.

Perhaps an innate natural intuition, or expecting the obvious. Robert still didn't believe that the Ironborn matter was over.

He felt an itch in his palms. An itch to battle and smash a few more heads.

Only one way to find answers.

He glanced at Asha Greyjoy being taken away.

####

Morning came, and the Stark sigil once again fluttered above the castle towers. Robb took command officially and started to calculate the damage.

Robert woke up early, fresh as any other day, not an ounce of fatigue, or a wound on his body. Rather, he felt stronger somehow, just as he did after each battle. It was supernatural, but he didn't dwell on it.

Instead, he changed into a comfortable tunic and breeches, put on a warm fur cloak, and made his way down into the dungeons. Since the castle was built on a natural hot spring, the cellars were particularly warm, and unfortunately, damp as well. The air was warm and moist, making it nothing short of hell for the captives as humidity prevented the body from cooling down.

Robert passed the guards and walked downstairs into the main holding area. There, inside one of the locked stone-walled cells, Asha was kept chained by her wrist from each side wall, keeping her from bringing her arms together.

"Hah, here to savor the plunder?" Asha mockingly stared at Robert, her whole body drenched in humidity. Her loose tunic and tight pants stuck to her body like a second skin. Her face dripped with droplets, and her black hair was cut short.

Thin-faced, sharp nose, her dark eyes revealed her hatred.

Pa!

Robert slapped her on the face, but not too hard. "Playing the victim, are you, after your men did the murdering and raping of hundreds? The Ironborn have no right to cry injustice—you lot still trade in slaves and call yourselves warriors. Savages, the whole lot of you."

Asha smirked, lifting her knee with deliberate ease until her foot pressed against Robert's loins. "Go on then, get it over with. Isn't that your way, King Robert? The whoremonger King. All you want is my tight cunt, isn't that right?"

Robert frowned, and gripped her throat, raising her until she stood on her toes. He was like a behemoth before her slender, long-legged figure. "You think whoring your cunt will save you?"

"It just might," Asha grinned widely, eyes half open in tiredness. "What do you say? Willing, young, tight Asha Greyjoy, the daughter of the most hated Balon—ripe for the taking for the King."

Robert dismissively sneered and stepped back. Although he manifested the crass Robert for that interrogation, he still tried to stay under control. "You sound more desperate to be fucked than to live."

Asha continued to play her game and spread her legs wide, her tight breeches so soaking wet that the shape of her pussy became visible. The plump, young folds, high and low, with that entrance in the middle.

Does she think winning me is this easy? Robert felt ashamed of his infamous reputation.

"Tell me, what's your father planning?" he demanded, his tone edged with impatience. "Moat Cailin, Winterfell, Castle Cerwyn—what next? There's no bloody treasure in the North for you."

"Ummm…" Asha let out a planned moan, the smirk constant. "Fuck me and I might tell."

Robert frowned. At that point, he genuinely felt confused about what she was plotting. What was there to gain from being fucked by her captor? Did she expect him to fall in love with her cunt and spare her?

"What are you, a whore?"

"For a King, isn't every woman just another prize?" Asha shot back with a wry smile. "I've heard the tales of the highborn ladies you've claimed. Tell me, how many of them came willingly?"

Clank!

Robert impatiently gripped her neck again and raised her higher in the air, this time lifting her off her feet. Both her wrists were spread wide as the chains coming from the walls kept her in that state—standing, dangling in the middle of the room.

"Why? Struck a nerve?" She struggled but kept that proud, sly look on her face.

Robert was obviously already hard. It wasn't much of a challenge to make him gain an erection anyway. As long as any woman asked for him to slide into her cunt, he'd be hard by default. But, that didn't mean he was insane like in the past. Although his appetite was high, his control had also increased.

He sized Asha up from head to toe. Her thin face was proof of her physically demanding life. Her lean body and those long legs barely reached half of his shoulder breadth. Her height, although tall, wasn't much before him.

She overestimates herself if she thinks she can win against my size. Robert pondered and looked down at her slender waist and legs that lacked the plumpness that the likes of Catelyn or Cersei had. In true ways, she bore a figure similar to Sansa or Myrcella.

"You think you can win this battle?" He asked.

"Oh, I know I will." Asha raised her chin with pride.

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