"Y-You bastard!! You have murdered your own father!!" Lady Marisa's voice wavered, echoes of her protest dancing in the cold, stony hall.

A bitter laugh escaped you, the sound like the crack of ice under a heavy boot. Your fingers, stained a deep crimson, carefully wiped the dagger on Lord Garlan Clover's garb. "No, he was poisoned by our enemies. I am simply the heir to his title. Rose Hall is mine."

"You're a bastard!!"

A smile curled on your lips, a cruel mockery of joy. "Not so, sweet stepmother. My claim was legitimized by Daemon Blackfyre, he who wears the crown and sits upon the Iron Throne. My service in the war earned me my title."

"Daemon, the kinslayer!! The usurper who slew his own brother!!"

"Daemon, the rightful king of Westeros. To deny his claim is to invite the noose of treason," you retorted. Your eyes, covetous and hungry, traced over the curve of your stepmother's tits as you spoke with words as sweet as the summer honey. "I could see you hanged for your traitorous words against the king, yet my heart leans towards mercy. I could pardon you, if you agree to be mine."

"I will not be your whore, you dirty Dornish bastard!!" she retorted with a venomous hiss.

"Refuse me, and your trueborn children will be chopped up into tiny pieces and fed to the hounds," you threatened, your voice as cold as a winter's night.

The blood drained from Lady Marisa's face, leaving her complexion as pale as fresh snow. "Y-You beast!! They are your own kin!!"

"My kin they may be, but they never saw me as their brother. To them, I was and will always be the bastard," you replied, your voice as unyielding as a castle's stone walls. Your tone softened as you reached out to touch her, your fingers traced over her soft bosom, and you added, "but I won't harm them, provided you agree to warm my bed and bear my bastards."

>it was but an empty threat, you would never harm your half siblings.

>you intended to eliminate your half siblings after you had taken your pleasure with their mother, seeing as they were a threat to your rightful claim.

>your intention was to have your half brothers meet their end in unfortunate 'accidents', but you had different designs for your half sisters.

>you held no particular affection for them and their survival was contingent on their mother's obedience.

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Bastard of Westeros: Redux