(Robert stares into the fire, a goblet of wine in his hand, untouched. His voice is low but grows louder with each passing thought, his emotions swinging between fury and regret.)

"All these years... All these bloody years. And not one of them was mine. Not Joffrey, not Myrcella, not Tommen. None of them. Lannister bastards, every last one, parading under my name, sitting at my table, wearing the crown I won with blood and steel.

Cersei... That snake. That venomous serpent. I was a fool to ever take her to my bed. While I drank and whored, she was laughing behind my back, lying with her brother like some twisted animal. Her brother! Gods, I thought her cold, but I never thought her... this.

And me? What was I? A king? No. I was a drunken brute, a shadow of the man I once was. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve cared enough to see it. I sat on the throne and let her poison my court, my family, my realm. And for what? My precious Lyanna? Hah. She’s been dead longer than she ever lived. And I’ve been chasing ghosts while my kingdom rots around me.

But no more. By the gods, no more. If the Seven have any justice, I’ll make things right. I’ll cast her out, strip the gold from her hair, and her children—her bastards—I’ll... no, they’re still just children. They didn’t choose this.

But her... She’ll answer for it. Her and Jaime both. The Kingslayer, fitting name for him, isn’t it? Always grinning, always smug. I’ll wipe that smirk off his face. I’ll make him kneel before the realm he’s disgraced. And Cersei... She’ll pay for every lie, every deceit. She’ll pay for what she’s done to me, to my name, to this kingdom.

And me? I’ll be a king. A real king. Gods help me, I’ll be better. The realm deserves better than the likes of her. Better than the likes of me."

(He downs the wine in one long gulp, slams the goblet down, and stares into the flames, his expression hard and resolute.)