Robert was surprised by his own might. He battled the Tyrell army single-handedly and raged through the field. One against twenty-five thousand. It was beyond any dream or fantasy.
There was no doubt anymore. Robert was far from human.
"Haaaa!"
Wherever his hammer smashed, blood exploded. He received many flesh wounds, and he bled profusely.
Loras Tyrell fell rather early. The boy refused to listen to Robert's reasoning that Tywin was using him. In the end, all Robert could do was kill him. Then he aimed for the army.
But he had a plan behind it all. His goal wasn't to kill them all but rather to have them kill him. Though not without reducing their numbers to two digits.
From daylight till dusk, Robert fought them. His armor got dented, and open wounds became too gruesome to look at. Blood was everywhere, the dirt had turned muddy from it. The roaring chants of Tyrell's army faded into desperate cries.
Then came midnight.
Thud!
Robert fell to his knees from exhaustion and simple blood loss. His hammer was bloodied with pieces of smashed victims stuck to it. His armor was dented and red now. His antler helmet had gone missing long ago, leaving him wounded, scared, bleeding, and bloodied.
But nobody dared to come near him even when he was on his knees.
Woosh!
But there were always a few brave ones. A spear came from behind him and pierced right through his nape, killing him in an instant.
Thud!
At last, his body fell forward, face first—dead.
Of twenty-five thousand Tyrell men, only nine hundred remained. He couldn't bring them down to two digits. But nobody there was going to laugh at that. If anything, they cried because the loss was too much.
Every man that lived there would go on to spread the word. The story of Robert Baratheon. And his legend would live for generations to come.
"Bring a cart! Take his body to Lord Tywin."
####
"We have him," Tywin announced as he stood beside Jaime's bed. "Robert Baratheon is dead. You will wed Margaery Tyrell, and through her boy, we will seize the Iron Throne. The Tyrells are no more."
Weakly, with a broken leg, Jaime nodded on his bed. Once upon a time, he resisted any attempt by Tywin to have him wed. But he didn't care anymore. Cersei was dead and he was full of vengeance. If he wanted to care for Tommen and Myrcella, he was willing to do this.
"I'll follow your plan, Father," Jaime replied and tried to get up. "Where is his body? I want to see it—H-He wasn't a human. It was as if gods possessed him."
Even Tywin's eyes shivered at that mention. He'd heard the reports. Only nine hundred of Tyrell men returned. He didn't want to believe the rumors and tried to forget them since Robert was dead now. Even if he were some sort of a blessed warrior, it was the end of that story.
"He's in the sept. I see no reason why he should be honored with a proper burial, but appearances must be kept. The remaining lords are watching. We give Stannis no opportunity to exploit discontent."
Jaime agreed and got fully out of bed using a walking stick. He followed his father slowly out of the room and soon arrived at the small sept of the already smaller castle. The hall was empty except for a single, slender, and shapely woman with thick brown hair. She had a small babe in her arms while standing beside the stone platform on which Robert's bloodied body rested.
"Don't be troubled, Your Grace." Tywin played along with the game by calling her 'grace'. "He's dead now. He has paid for the crime of murdering your family. Going forward, you will be the queen mother. You will wed my son, Jaime, and raise the next King of the Seven Kingdoms."
Margaery said nothing. She silently watched Robert's body. She was no fool. Olenna had raised and taught her well. She saw no dead body but a man who fought to save her and her son. She remembered the many discussions she had with Olenna. She willingly agreed to leave King's Landing when Robert went missing. Now, she wondered what if she hadn't done that. To never give Tywin a chance to do all this.
"It's all the same in the end." Jaime looked at the body and sneered. More than his leg, he hated Robert for murdering Cersei. He didn't even think much about Joffrey. "Death—Everyone meets eventually."
"The Silent Sisters will prepare the body. Rest well, Your Grace. We shall attack King's Landing tomorrow." Tywin said, not as a suggestion but as an order. He didn't need to word it that she was now his hostage. Forever will be.
Margaery didn't move and stayed behind while Tywin and Jaime left. She watched the dead body with tears welling up in her eyes. She initially loathed Robert for what he was. A fat whoremonger. But then she saw him and he was different, tall, proud, not that fat. The age didn't disgust her anymore.
But still, she didn't love him. She only saw him as a tool to fulfill her dream. The very dream she'd been groomed for since childhood. She only wanted to be the queen. After that night with him, she considered it a win-win in every way. He was an amazing lover in bed, a little rough but it was flavorful. Getting to be the queen alongside that sounded like a brilliant plan.
But then Robert vanished. She felt scared, but not bothered. Then she found out she was pregnant. She knew it was the end for her. No lord would wed her anymore, forget a prince. She was a spoiled woman now who birthed Robert's bastard.
Yet, when life came out of her womb, she couldn't help but see the similarities with Robert's face. The eyes, the hair, it all matched Robert. She felt different from then on, hoping that Robert was still alive out there.
Hoping that she'd get to see him again. And this time, she'd made up her mind to give him her everything. Not just her body, but her mind and life too. To truly be the queen he'd be proud to have. Loving, intelligent, and nurturing.
I was too late… once again, the man destined for me is dead.
Her tears finally slid down her cheeks. Holding the babe in one arm, she reached for the dead body with the other. The blood didn't disgust her. She just wanted to feel his skin one last time.
"Forgive me… Your Grace." She murmured in tears.
She choked up, a little frightened now for herself and her son. What would the Lannisters do? She could already imagine being forced to wed Jaime and sire his children. Once a son was born, she had no doubt that her son with Robert would meet some sort of an accident.
She hugged the babe tighter in her arms. She hadn't even named him yet, waiting for Robert's return. Or at least until the culmination of the entire battle.
"R-Robert… I'll name him Robert."
She made up her mind right there and then.
"Margaery—tears don't suit that pretty face of yours."
"..."
Margaery's eyes widened in shock. She looked towards Robert's bloodied face and noticed his open eyes. Then she felt his hand move and touch hers.
"Shhh~"
She stopped herself from recoiling and shouting in fear. Her head did a quick check behind to ensure nobody else was there.
"Y–Your Grace…" She whispered. "You're alive."
Robert smiled, revealing his bloodied teeth. He knew he was dead, but now he wasn't. His internal wounds had all healed, leaving just the surface scars to slowly fade as well.
"Ha! Nothing in this cursed world can kill me, Margaery. Now, let's have a look at the whelp." Robert squinted at the bundle in her arms. "Aye… my trueborn son."
Same eyes as him. Same hair as him. While the face looked rather handsome, expected as the mother was a beauty. He truly felt happy. After what Cersei did, this felt like heaven.
"Ha! The lad's got the look of a warrior already, mark me." He fawned on the little boy, so silent whilst awake. "But first—we spill the traitors' blood. Tywin carved up your kin, Margaery. The bastard's been scheming since day one."
"I know… We should leave. We should go to King's Landin—"
"No, fetch me a sword. Even a short one'll do. I set this in motion, Margaery. I'm no fool—couldn't cleave through a hundred thousand men. Would've taken all bloody week. But now? I'm inside the damn castle. Tywin and Jaime sit just a few stones off."
Margaery froze for a while. She didn't want to bring him a sword. She wanted to escape with him. But he was Robert Baratheon. The legends about him were still being written.
"I will… bring a blade, Your Grace."
Robert nodded and squeezed her hand harder. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. She'd already given him a son. He'd wed her, it was decided. It was the right thing to do. "Don't be scared. We'll batter their skulls, ride back to King's Landing, and wed within the week."
Feeling somewhat giddy in her heart, Margaery nodded firmly and left the sept. She brought back the sullen, plain expressions as she walked around.
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