GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag 25 - Robert's Decision & The Great Ransom 

[A/N: This chapter is all plot. Couldn’t find space to fit in smut elements this time.]

_________

"Do as I say. Send Rhaea now and then prepare a ship tonight. We leave for Braavos." 

"A man wonders… is the work now complete?"

Robert scowled and shook his head. “Do as I command. I’ll have it finished by nightfall. I’ve heard enough, and I’m done with questions. Westeros has been without its king long enough.”

Jaqen nodded and pulled his hood back over his head. "A ship is asked. A ship shall be made ready. It will bear the mark of the Many-Faced God."

In silence, Robert watched Jaqen leave and vanish in the crowds at Meereen's port. It was a strange feeling, deciding the future before even setting the end in motion. 

Sighing, he looked at his callus hands, fingers thick as an infant's nimble limbs. He knew there was no man in the city, nor an army that could stop him from committing to his next actions. 

There was no creature in the city that could pose a threat to him. Perhaps, none in the known world. 

There was no army that could stop him. 

####

As night came, Robert had supper with Daenerys before retiring to his room with a mutual understanding to meet with the Mother of Dragons later. 

Daenerys got busy with her duties, managing a sudden fire that had erupted in the market area of Meereen. Robert decided to take a stroll at that time. He went down from the Great Pyramid, mapping the routes, the Unsullied. 

A while before the decided meeting in the bed-chamber, he approached the lair that the dragons had made. Where Rhaegal and Viserion were kept chained, Drogon visited to rest. 

There were no Unsullied standing guard there, even less so as the fire in the city demanded a lot of hands. 

Grabbing a torch, he walked into the lair's entrance. Soon, he found a large, double-sided battle ax slanted beside the wall. Jaqen had done his job well delivering him the weapon. 

After that, he kept walking through the narrow entrance and reached the wider, filthy-smelling lair of the three dragons. The creatures ate there, shat there, and burned the walls around them into a charred mess. 

Crunch!

But more than that, the traces of blood and human bones on the floor made Robert colder. It seemed the nobles he caught at Astapor and Yunkai weren't the first human sacrifices. 

"Grrrr…"

Robert ignored the deafening grumble of the creatures and lit the torches near the wall to illuminate the lair. He made sure there were three dragons first. 

As soon as he saw two chained and one unchained, sleeping in the back, Robert gripped the battle ax hard and started walking. From his mere presence, Rhaegal and Viserion seemed to cower, shrinking their necks and stepping backward weakly, closer to the side walls. Their large eyes, which usually showcased fury, looked rather tame. 

Ignoring the two, Robert kept going and soon reached Drogon, its eyes already open but without much movement. 

"Move, damn you!" Robert bellowed at the giant beast. "Stand and fight, or I'll cut you down where you crawl! Take this for mercy—a warrior’s death!"

He didn't know if the dragon understood him. They were said to be wise beings, he remembered. 

But Drogon showed no movement. The dragon stayed prone on the floor, its neck elongated, head flat, as if surrendering. 

Bam!

Robert kicked the thick neck. 

Still, Drogon didn't move an inch. 

Frowning, Robert took a step back and tried to see what was wrong. There was no chain-binding Drogon. Its limbs looked perfectly fine too. There was no injury anywhere. 

The head! 

Then he remembered his last fight with it. He'd smashed it hard on its head, knocking it out. 

Quickly, Robert checked Drogon's eyes. They weren't fully open and had a look of confusion in them. As if it didn't even recognize him, or worse, couldn't make sense of what was in front of it. Even the other two dragons had more life in their gaze, they showed reactions. 

More than that, Drogon should have been more feral in his presence. 

"Did I… make it retarded?" Robert wondered, smacking his foot on Drogon's snout. But the eyes remained unfocused, like one of those unfortunate children born with defects he'd seen before. 

At that point, a realization dawned on him. The true reason why Daenerys allowed him to fuck her like a common whore. Why she so willingly submitted to him without even a proper understanding of him? 

She lost a dragon and wanted him to replace it. 

Almost with pity, Robert looked at the fine creatures, the last of their kind. But sadly, their time was done. 

“That’s what you meant to your mother. As soon as you turned simple, she tossed you aside for some fat-cocked oaf who couldn't even speak like a human," Robert murmured and walked back to the side of Drogon's neck. "I'll make it quick."

In a snap, he raised the ax high with both hands, aimed at the neck and…

Swoosh!

Hot, burning dragon blood gushed out from the wound. Robert struck with such power that its entire neck was severed. Of course, Drogon wasn't a full adult or it would have been impossible. 

In the flash of a moment, the mighty dragon lost its life. 

Finally, Robert glanced at Viseryon and Rhaegal. They were smaller than Drogon for some reason. 

"You two can fight me, or die in peace." Robert used much of his strength to dash forward. By now he'd gained complete control over his inhuman body, or else he'd have crushed the women he lay with. 

His leg muscles strained as he leaped off into the air and landed on Viseryon's back. The dragon tried to wriggle and throw him off, but in that confined lair and the chains, there wasn’t much room to move. 

"Haaaa!"

From the back of the neck, Robert slashed and beheaded the creature. 

By then, Rhaegal understood the danger and unleashed a torrent of flames at Robert, burning its own sibling in the process. 

Shhh…~

The sizzling sound of the fire melting Viseryon's flesh resonated in the lair. 

Robert avoided being burned by hiding behind Viseryon's severed head. And while Rhaegal's focus was still on the main body, Robert rushed forward. The way he moved, the speed he had was unmatched by any creature. He'd stopped questioning it, but he could feel it. 

A man like him shouldn't exist. Something so beyond belief and common sense. 

Thud!

Rhaegal tried to stomp around and keep Robert away. But he was too fast and from underneath Rhaegal's belly, made a long, horizontal slash, splitting the dragon's weakest flesh apart. 

He was fast and before the blood could fall on him, he slid out from the other end. But to keep Rhaegal from dying slowly and making too much noise, he climbed back onto its writhing body and aimed for the head. 

“Rest well, you beautiful thing… You were made for a different time.”

The scent of dragon blood filled the entire lair. All noise died down, only the faint sounds of the flickering torches were left.

Finally, Robert doused all the torches in the lair and left through the narrow passage. He left the battle-axe behind and then found a change of clothes Jaqen had prepared beforehand. 

Fixing his appearance, he climbed back up the Great Pyramid and returned to his bedchamber to wipe his face. From the window of the room, he could see the distant smoke through the torches in the city. The fire had been doused, it appeared. 

Then, he walked over to the nearby cupboard and grabbed a sharp, small danger, hiding it in the waistband of his breeches. 

"You're here!" The door opened just then and Daenerys walked in, looking like a mess. "The fire is finally under control."

Looking tired, dressed in a loose sleeping gown with thin shoulder straps, she walked over to the bed and laid down on it, eying Robert the whole time. 

"It took almost a thousand Unsullied to douse the flames," Daenerys murmured about the situation before a cynical smile escaped her lips. A wicked, meaningful smile that carried pleasure in what she would be doing to her victims. “When I learn who is behind this, they will know the taste of Dragonfire.”

Robert noticed that smile from the mirror and finally turned around and looked at Daenerys, ignorantly resting on the bed, ready to get fucked out of her mind. The blush on her face seemed as if she was looking forward to it. 

"Aye, the arsonist should be punished," Robert responded, not talking crassly anymore. But Daenerys didn't seem to notice. 

Slowly, Robert crawled up on the bed from the foot side and then kept going up, straddling her ankles, then her thighs before finally, straddling her ample breasts between his massive thighs. 

He looked down at her excited little face, her arms spread wide in surrender and invitation. Seemingly eager to have him shove his cock in her mouth like that. But he knew why she was doing all this. Why she gave herself up to him so shamelessly. 

"I fear I cannot move much tonight, Lord Ned… so do as you please. I will not stop you… I mean it."

As he'd expected. She was ready to be pumped underneath his cock any which way, as long as she could secure his might and loyalty. 

"Aye… as I please," Robert muttered, his voice low, heavy with old grief. His rough hand brushed over her pale, slender neck—fragile as a swan’s. Truly, she was far too beautiful to be deserving of this fate but her mind harbored madness. "And I choose this."

"Argh!" 

Robert's hand clenched harder. Daenerys choked as her smile faded and her lustful eyes grew concerned. 

"I'd have given you a fair fight, let you die with some honor. But what's the point? You'd only squeal for mercy… weak and worthless on your own." Robert clenched harder, suffocating her. "I'll make it quick."

Finally, reality dawned on her. Daenerys' expression turned to pure horror. The man holding her underneath him truly meant to kill her. This was not a wicked sexual play but a simple reality. 

"I once called Robert a fool, a madman, for sending assassins after you. Thought it was beneath a King. I was wrong. The madness never left your bloodline—it just sailed East with you." Robert ignored her pitiful slaps on his arm and easily fetched the dagger with his other hand.

Robert slid his hips a little lower to her belly, leaving her chest clear for the aim. Then he pointed the dagger's tip right at her heart. No trace of doubt, no remorse, no hatred, no love… he was just doing.

"W-ugh… Who…" She barely granted as he allowed her to breathe slightly. Suffocation wasn't supposed to be her end.

“You’re the first to know this… and the last who ever will.”

He stared into her violet eyes and pressed the tip harder, making it register through the layer of silk on her body.

"I was once Robert Baratheon, but that man died… and I woke as him—Eddard Stark, gods help me." He almost felt merciful. But then he remembered her words from the previous night. Her actions over the many weeks. "Now, I'm neither a man… nor a human."

"Uggggh…" Daenerys groaned as she felt the blade pierce through her skin. Her breath was erratic, struggling under his grasp, she helplessly wriggled, flailed her legs, and slapped his arm, but he was like a mountain atop a pebble. She cried, tears like a waterfall, trailing down the side of her eyes. For mercy, she begged through her gaze, but all she received was Robert’s cold blue gaze. 

"Bloodshed, slaughter, madness—it's all you’ve ever chased, Daenerys. You dream of drowning Westeros in fire and corpses. Your deeds, your words—they reek of it. And Westeros has no room for two monsters… I’m more than enough."

Squelch!

Robert pressed in hard and easily jammed the blade all the way in, puncturing her fragile heart. Her eyes widened in the shock of it, pain seeping in while her life slowly faded. The glow in her eyes turned darker, her face paler like a wraith.

"You died chasing a crown that was never yours to claim. It wasn’t stolen from you."

Squelch!

Robert pulled out the dagger and let the blood drench her robes. He moved aside from her body and stood by the bed, seeing her eyes following him in her last breathing moments.

"This is for the realm… for my family… my children."

Before she died, he pressed his palm on her face and made her close her eyes. She turned into a bloodthirsty monster in the end. But he sympathized with her journey. The struggles she faced. From an orphan in exile to a sold bride to warlord, to a widow who raised dragons.

“If you’d never met me… maybe your tale would have ended differently.”

He put the dagger on her chest and stepped back, eying the room. 

"Rest in peace now, Daenerys Targaryen."

With that, Robert traced his steps towards the door and walked out. There were two Unsullieds standing guard, but they didn't react to him and cluelessly guarded the bedchamber. 

Without wasting time, he went to a lower floor where the likes of Grey Worm and Ser Jorah lived. Surprisingly, the entire floor was unguarded as it housed the commanding members of the army itself. 

Robert first entered Ser Jorah's chamber, a small room with a single table and a bed. The man was sleeping but had woken by his presence, getting up while frowning hard. 

It wasn't hard to see that the man hated him. For being the second man in his life to take away the woman he drooled after. 

“Pick your steel,” Robert growled. “You were sent to exile for punishment, not to hatch treason and raise a Targaryen for invasion.”

Ser Jorah’s lips curled as he regarded Robert with a hard stare. “And who might you be? Speaking like a Northman doesn’t make you a Stark.”

"Aye, I'm not a Stark for I am Robert Baratheon, your fucking king."

Ser Jorah's gaze hardened, desperately looking for lies. But there was none to be found. Then the man glanced at the door behind Robert and instantly, his expression changed to fury. 

"Where's Khaleesi?"

Robert gave a rough sigh, full of scorn. "Don't fret, you'll be seeing her soon enough. Dream of suckling at her then, if it helps."

"You!" Ser Jorah leaped sideways and grabbed his sword, swiftly pulling it out of the sheath. "Ha!"

Ser Jorah slashed at Robert's head with all the strength in his body. He reckoned it'd hit and hurt since Robert had no weapons with him. 

Clank!

But he was wrong. Robert had two, very powerful weapons. 

The sword audibly clanked when Robert caught the blade near his face with his bare hands. With a subtle push, the blade curved. Before Ser Jorah could react, his throat was in the Westerosi King's grasp. 

"Die easy, then. Bear Island’s to thrive—Tommen’s sweet on Lyanna." Robert’s grip tightened, lifting him clean off his feet. "Even Lynesse Hightower… taken care of well in the Red Keep."

Ser Jorah tried to kick Robert but failed to make the tall man budge. His eyes glared hauntingly at Robert. Gods knew what was in his mind in those moments. Was it his home? His first wife? Or the Targaryen woman he lusted after.

Snap!

It was far too easy to snap a human neck than slice a dragon's head. He killed Ser Jorah in the blink of an eye and threw his body back on the bed. 

Then, he grabbed Ser Jorah's sword and made his way into other small rooms. He looked for Grey Worm as the man was one of the closest people to Daenerys. Jorah was one and Grey Worm was the second man who may come looking for him to avenge Daenerys. 

The man had to die. 

And die he did. 

Once Robert found him, a similar plot to Jorah played out. But in his case, Grey Worm tried to grab his spear, which was useless in a small room. Robert snapped his neck faster than Jorah. 

Done with his killing, he made his way back to the upper floor. But he kept going and arrived at the top floor where Daenerys slept. Two Unsullied guards kept watch there. 

Bam!

Bam!

Robert smashed their heads onto the wall. Not enough to kill them, but hard enough to knock them out for good. 

However, instead of entering Daenerys' empty chamber, he went to a side chamber where Missandei slept. The beautiful woman with yet another harsh story slept in her bed calmly. 

This time, Robert suppressed his footsteps and approached the side of her bed. He had no desire to kill her since she had nothing to gain from Westeros. So, he took out a vial with mysterious contents, uncorked it, and hovered it near her nose. 

As Jaqen had guided him, he waited for a while. 

"Missandei?"

He called for her. Then he softly tapped on her face. Finding no response, he lifted her in a bridal carry and entered Daenerys' personal chamber. Massive and lavish, but empty and eerie now. 

Surveying the walls, he soon found an elephant-shaped sconce with a candle on the stone wall. He stood near it and gently knocked on it a few times. 

Thump!

Thump!

A suppressed, faint knock came back in response. 

Finally, he pulled on the sconce. A click returned and the wall on which the sconce stood started to pivot, rotating on its own axis. 

"A ship waits at the docks."

Robert nodded at Jaqen's presence and walked into the secret passage, tall enough for him but only wide enough to squeeze two people. Jaqen quickly turned the secret wall back to the way it was and started leading Robert. 

The secret passage was rough with steps higher than normal. Even Jaqen began panting after a while as they kept walking down the Great Pyramid. 

Soon, they reached the ground level and then went another level below to enter a secret tunnel. From there, it was a grand maze, with twists and turns, and many more passageways around. But Jaqeh knew his way and eventually brought Robert out through the back of a small house, very close to the port itself. 

Much of the Unsullied patrol still hadn't returned from the fire scene as many houses and buildings were burnt to the ground. Besides, once Robert had a sheet of cloth covering Missandei, no Unsullied stopped him as his legend from Yunkai and Astapor had spread in their ranks. 

Moments later, he stood on the deck of a ship leaving the port. 

The great city of Meereen continued to look smaller and smaller. Its magnificent Great Pyramid was illuminated by the hue of the moon. 

The city would soon become a mess with Daenerys and her dragons gone. 

"The action was necessary. Only thus could her madness be unmade," Jaqen murmured, standing beside him on the deck.

"I'll come out when we're reaching Braavos." In no mood to discuss the rights and wrongs, Robert shook his head and decided to rest. 

"And what would a man do in Braavos, I wonder? A man is curious."

"Payback."

####

The ship wasn't luxurious, but since there were no other passengers than Robert, Missandei, and Jaqen, there were two or three private cabins with a bed. 

For a few hours, Robert stayed seated at the edge of the bed where he'd laid down Missandei. He waited for her to wake up so she wouldn't be too shocked or scared. While doing that, he took a quick nap while sitting. 

"Lord Ned?"

He opened his eyes and found her awake, staring at him in confusion. The drift of the ship was likely known to her by now. 

"Are you well?"

Missandei nodded and glanced around at the small, cramped cabin. "W-Where are we? Where are we going? What happened?"

“We’re bound for Braavos,” Robert answered truthfully. “No, they’re not with us. Best you leave that life behind, girl.”

A frowning crease formed between her brows. "W-What happened?"

"A disaster averted, that's what it was. Forget Daenerys and her bloody dragons. Forget Meereen, forget your old life." Robert repeated, hoping she'd take his intentions well. "Did you know she was feeding men to those beasts long before we brought Yunkai and Astapor's captured nobles?"

To Robert's surprise, Missandei nodded as she sat up and rested her back against the flat headboard of the bed. 

"I did, Lord Ned. I-I tried to suggest that she don't but… She said the bodies of the lords we crucified would only rot, wasted. So she bid Grey Worm to feed them to the dragons, each in the order of their passing. O-Once all the crucified lords were eaten, she sent murderers and rapists to the dragons and then… any noble that opposed her."

Robert sighed, finding solace in that knowledge. There was no need to doubt his actions, it seemed. But he knew Missandei would be emotional. Daenerys was a lot more to her than him. 

Slowly, he slid closer to her on the bed and sat right beside her, his back against the headboard. Then, he took her soft hand in his larger palm. 

"Daenerys told me plainly—she wanted to wage war all the way to Westeros. I asked her, what then? When she has the Iron Throne, the crown on her head. She said she'd keep fighting. End the bloodlines, burn the houses of every noble who rose against her father." Robert’s voice was hard. "That’s the truth of it."

Robert continued to explain, his words crucial to the help he wanted to give her. 

"Missandei, I was there. Daenerys’ father was no king, only a mad butcher. He raped his own wife, left her broken and weeping. His mind rotted—he saw enemies where there were none, and called for lords to die over whispers and shadows. He burned the Lord of House Stark and his son alive. The Targaryens lost their throne to madness, not steel. Daenerys’ rage was a fool’s fire, stoked by revenge and blind to reason. And in her, I saw… the Mad King, but worse… with dragons."

Missandei looked up sideways at his face. "But you said… you were captured from Westeros at a young age."

"I lied, Missandei. I came to Meereen for a reason. I wanted to look Daenerys in the eye and talk sense into her. Find a peaceful end to all this. Give her a chance. Give her dragons a chance. But the truth? From the moment I saw her, there was nothing but blood, fire, and unchecked ambition. No mercy. No care for ruling, only conquering. Seven hells! I had to conquer back what she won with smoke and slaughter. To her, Slaver’s Bay was a game before the real war. I’ve done what I came for… but I couldn’t bring myself to harm you. You’re innocent in all this."

Teary-eyed, Missandei looked down, holding back from crying. Hearing him talk like that was enough to know what may have happened to Daenerys. 

"I owed her my life. I had no hope and she gave me one. She freed me."

"Even a lion spares a lamb when it's full. And you were…. A useful lamb," Robert replied. 

Missandei suddenly threw herself closer to Robert's chest, sulking while holding back tears. "I tried to stop her before it was too late… I tried. Eventually… I blinded my heart to it all and…"

"It wasn't your fault. It runs in their blood."

She looked up at his face again, a little scared in addition to shaken. "W-What's to become of me now?"

Robert pulled her close, his thick arm strong around her back. His voice was low but steady. "You have a choice, girl. I'll give you gold, enough to live like a queen in Braavos till you're old and grey… or you come back to Westeros with me. You're a beauty—no denying it. I’ll find you a good young lord with a kind heart. That I swear."

A lot of gold and the ability to command Lords?

Gathering her grief, Missandei confusedly pulled her body back from him to get a better look at his face. 

"If you're not Ned, then who are you?"

"I’m the King."

####

Robert had promised the men of the Iron Bank that when he'd return, he'd spell doom for them. It took him months, but finally, he was back. 

After hiring another ship to take him to Westeros in a few days, he settled Missandei and Rhaea on it. Both of the women had chosen to join him in Westeros willingly. So, he ensured their safety first, and then made his way to the Iron Bank alone. 

He entered the building alone as a simple customer. No escorts, no bank representatives greeting him. He had no way of validating himself as the King. He went to the teller behind an enclosed window secured with metal bars. Only small, day-to-day business merchants came there to deposit or withdraw money. 

Finally, when Robert approached the front of the line, he smiled at the man behind the window. 

"These bars won't save you."

"Sorry? What busin—"

BAM!

Robert smashed his hand right through the metal bars, bending them, splitting them apart, and taking the teller in a chokehold. I am Robert Baratheon! King of the Seven bloody Kingdoms! You treacherous rats! You set me against the Golden Company?! Where’s that bastard? Bring me Tycho Nes-some-damn-thing—whatever his whore of a mother named him!"

"G-Ghk… G-Guards!"

Robert sighed at the man's reaction. "You blind, coin-clutching fool. I ripped through steel with my bare hands. You think your tin-plated guards will fare better?"

At his declaration, the armored guards of the bank did hesitate. But it was their job, so they rushed and attempted to stab him with their spears. 

"Have it your way then." Robert released the teller and focused on the men. "Slow little things!" 

With no fear, no hesitation, Robert snatched the thrusting spear from the guard's grasp and turned it on them. With ease, he stabbed the foot of one and the shoulder of the other, injuring them non-fatally. 

Done with that, he looked back at the teller behind the metal window. On the right side was also a metal door that led deeper into the bank. 

"I'm coming for you all! I promised it." 

BOOM!

A kick that could smash a dragon's skull. What was a steel door to him? As soon as he slammed his foot on the door, its hinges gave way and it flew in like an iron plate. Chaos spread instantly after that. The other tellers ran away while more guards started pouring in from outside. 

Robert was quick on his feet and followed the tellers. Not killing any, he knocked whoever came in his way, door after door, and kept entering deeper into the bank without any idea where he actually was. 

"Tycho! Bring him to me!" He kept shouting in hopes someone would point him towards the man. 

Bam!

He punched and kicked whatever door stood in his way. Perhaps in the Iron Bank's history, this was the first break-in. Such a straightforward one, at least. 

Slowly, Robert found himself in the same hallway he had been in the last time. So, he followed the path he knew and eventually, arrived inside the massive chamber with a high, marble table and three chairs. The same place where he was betrayed. 

"There you are!" 

Robert roared at the sight. Just like that time, he saw three bank representatives sitting on the high seats. In the middle was Tycho Nestoris. 

"You! You little shit!" Robert launched himself forward using his inhuman speed and strength. He didn't even glance at the man Tycho was entertaining. Instead, he jumped on the small visitor's bench first, and from there he took to the air with a great leap, spear in his hand, aimed right at Tycho. 

BOOM!

Crack!

He landed on the massive, block-like marble table. It cracked from the sheer force of his landing. 

“You!” Robert roared, standing on the table, his spear leveled at Tycho’s face. “How does it feel, eh? To stand before the point of a blade? I warned you back then, but your smug face knew only greed. You sold me to the Golden Company like a sack of copper. For that, I should—"

"Your Grace?!"

It'd been a long while since he last heard someone call him that. And he also recognized the voice. 

"Davos?"

"It is you! Your Grace!" Davos jumped to his feet, excitement unquestionable. "You're alive!" 

“No bloody shit! I nearly died.” Robert threw a glare back at Tycho. “Thanks to these treacherous whoresons. Sold me off to the Golden Company—and that piss-drinking Pretender Targaryen. On your feet. All three of you."

Tycho Nestoris maintained a diplomatic smile. "Your Grace, I'm sure we can come to an agreement. The past grievances—"

Slash!

"Aaaargh!"

Robert slashed the arm of the man on Tycho’s right, shearing through flesh and bone. "Enough talk. I swore I'd burn this damned bank to the ground, and by the gods, I will. Now take me to your bloody vaults! Let’s see if your gold screams when it burns!"

The bank representative, now without one arm, fell down from his seat, crying in pain. 

Tycho finally started shivering and stood up. But his legs shivered even more. "Y-Your Grace… It–it’s not wise to make enemies—"

Slash!

This time, the man on Tycho's left lost an arm and fell. 

"Next one will be you. Now move!" He kicked Tycho aside and marched after him. "You've made an enemy of me. I crushed half the Golden Company and scattered the rest to the wind. Who'll you scrape up next? Bring them on! I’ll cut them down just the same."

Frightened more than ever in his life, Tycho led him deeper into the Bank. But it was hard for him to keep his mouth shut. 

"Your G-Grace… I'm sure we can compensate you for your lost time and energy. W-We can… Yes, we can erase all the debt owed by the Crown to us." 

“Hah! You’ll be doing that anyway—and twice as much besides.”

Following that, Robert forced the man to lead him to the vaults. There were a lot of them and there were armed guards. Robert dealt with them easily while keeping a hold on Tycho's neck. A few kicks always solved all enemies. Human bodies were just not resilient enough. 

Almost an hour later, Robert shoved Tycho into the biggest vault of the Iron Bank. He also grabbed the other representatives going about their work and shoved them into the vault. 

Finally, he closed the vault's massive doors and kept a small, walkable slit open. Then he looked at the groaning guards littered on the floor. One of them was barely hurt on purpose. 

"You! Aye, you," he barked, pointing a thick finger. "Run off and tell your Sea Lord this—The Demon of Essos stands before him, and he wears the crown of King Robert Baratheon. Tell him I’ve slain dragons and their mother. Tell him I smashed the Golden Company to splinters, and if he’s hungry for blood, I’ll feed him steel."

He paused, a grin creeping under his beard. "And if not? Then he can pay the bounty. Not for these rats called representatives, but for this cursed bank. I want the debts wiped clean—and five million gold dragons, paid straight to me. King Robert Baratheon."

Right away, the guard ran like he'd seen the devil. 

####

Hours later, a retinue of men arrived armed to the teeth. They bore no sigil but clearly belonged to the Sea Lord. There were 50 of them, all with their blades drawn. 

"So that's what you've chosen." Robert, who'd been sitting in front of the closed vault's gate, stood up with the spear in hand. "I overestimated Braavosi wisdom."

"I am the First Sword of Braavos. I bring words from the Sea Lord himself. He will speak of clearing all debts… and grant safe passage from his city. This is his gift, Your Grace. But gifts from Braavos are not given lightly."

"Bah! You can fuck off then." Robert sat down on the floor again, arms crossed. 

But the First Sword stayed, almost as if hiding a smirk. "He also wishes to inform you that King's Landing is currently under siege by Lannister, Ironborn, and Dornish forces."

Robert didn't flinch and kept his mouth shut. It wasn't new information to him. Braavos was filled with murmurs about King's Landing. 

"And…" the First Lord continued. "The Sea Lord shares whispers from across the Narrow Sea. He hears House Tyrell shall join the siege—all for the babe Margaery Tyrell has given you, Your Grace." 

This was news to him. He'd learned that Margaery was pregnant once he arrived at Braavos but the birth was unexpected. 

No time to waste here. 

Robert got up once again, a sense of bloodthirst oozing from him. Spear hard in his grip, he glared at the men before him. 

"Two days! Bring every man you’ve got, and I’ll cut them down, one by bloody one! Or take my terms, and we end it here and now.”

"You can fight thousands of men?" Asked the First Sword with a smirk. 

Robert said nothing to that. 

“After two days, I’ll put this whole damned place to the torch.”

The First Sword of Braavos raised his sword. 50 men behind him followed suit.

"So be it, Your Grace. You're a dead man anyway."