HELP! A story by the name "Game of Thrones: I am Tommen Baratheon" has been plagiarizing this story here on webnovel for some time now. I've tried reporting the story but nothing comes of it. I wanted to ask you guys if you know if there's anything I can do about it? This guy even has a Patreon posting chapters that are already free to read.
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I found him in a small den down the other passage from Qyburn's workshop. It wasn't a cell by any measure, but it was a struggle to call it a proper room. There was a cot tucked in the farthest corner, too small for a grown man to lay down properly, with a pewter basin and pitcher to its side and a small table with two chairs set against the left wall. On the table, a single half-burnt candle lit one half of the room, while the other laid in thick shadows.
It was in that darkness that Balon Swann rested on the cot, curled on his side like a child, his back facing the room.
I'd kept my steps silent after leaving an exhilarated Qyburn and a stunned Ser Lyle behind, but I made sure to put my weight beneath the last few until I reached the table. Even as they thumped on the ground, he didn't stir.
"I hate to announce myself," I said, pulling out a flimsy chair for me to sit on. "But your king has just entered the room."
In an instant, Balon jumped in a mad scramble out of the cot. "Your Grace," he cried as fell to his knees. "Forgive me. I did not know it was you."
I sighed. "Unless you're on top of a thirty feet tall iron monstrosity of a throne, speaking with someone on their knees is not all that's made up to be." Gesturing to the bed with a hand, I sat back against the chair, the wood groaning with my weight. "Please, ser, sit with me so we may speak."
Grudgingly, Balon rose off the floor and sat straight as a spear on the bed. Despite his impeccable posture, his face seemed to sag on itself, with his brow furrowed and lined. Dark rings surrounded his eyes, which lay half-lidded as if he was near asleep.
"I came to see how you fared, ser," I told him. "And I apologize for not coming sooner, too, but Qyburn thought it inadvisable."
"It was for the best," he agreed with a mumble.
I nodded. "Perhaps. And I shall not dishonor you by thanking you for shielding me back at the pavilion, but I would be remiss not to do so for protecting Margaery. Were it possible, I would knight you again for it."
"It was my duty, Your Grace."
"It wasn't," I said. She wasn't yet a member of the royal family, which meant the Kingsguard could give two shits about her, technically speaking. "But I thank you all the same. She is to be my wife—your queen. It was a brave thing you did. Take solace in that."
Balon gave me a weak nod. We just sat there in silence for a long moment, both lost in thought. I had no particular desire to play the psychologist for a man half-stuck in the dark ages who just found out he had to drink blood to live, but I owed Ser Balon the effort.
The weak light of the candle blinked for a second as I shifted on my uncomfortable seat. Balon sat just on the edge of the yellow glow.
"Would you like to speak on it?" I started again.
Ser Balon frowned, opened his mouth for a moment, then closed again. I could see him struggling with it, jaw setting tight, eyes squinting. Was it shame or fear he felt?
"I didn't think you would," I said. "But I shall have to insist. I will order it, if I have to. I won't have a man plagued by insecurities guarding my back."
Ser Balon swallowed audibly. "I understand, Your Grace. You should not have me in your kingsguard. I… I am a monster." He brought both his hands close to his face, inspecting them as if they were a foreign thing. "The things I did, the things I have to do just to survive… the things I might do if I went too long without..." he trailed off.
It was both, then. He was ashamed of what he was and afraid of what he might do. "Yes," I told him. "In a way, you are a monster. Were anyone to find out your need for blood, they would denounce you and attaint you. The Faith would rally their sheep against you, and perhaps even threaten my rule."
Balon looked down to the floor in disgrace. If it came to it, I'd throw him to the hungry mob without a moment's hesitation. It would pain me to do so, but such was the nature of pieces in the chessboard. The knight would die a thousand deaths to protect his king.
But from what Qyburn told me of how he found Balon in the tunnels the night before, and the gored state of the rest of the kidnappers, I would be foolish to throw away such a valuable piece. Inhumanly strong and fast, the nose of a bloodhound, loyal to a fault; the bastard even had night vision.
"Of course, Your Grace," he croaked. "I would not burden you like this. A quick death would be more honorable than this dreadful life."
I sat back on the chair, thinking. It was always duty with him. So long as I hammered that point home, I would be able to bring him back to action. It must have seemed to him that I agreed with his conclusion, since he looked resigned with his fate.
I almost scoffed. "Unfortunately for you, I give you no such leave to die. Death is easy, Ser Balon. Duty, on the other hand…" I shook my head. "I took you for a knight of the kingsguard, ser. Not a craven that hides in a tiny dark room because he has a bit of a drinking problem."
I chuckled at my own joke, and it even managed to bring a weak smile to Balon. "I would hazard that my affliction is a bit worse than having some trouble keeping away from wine, Your Grace."
"Is it? Have you ever been so deep in your cups that you raped a woman?" The question immediately cut through his smile. "Held her down and forced yourself on her, while she howled and cried beneath you? Because I'd wager many of the knights that proclaim me their king have. Have you been so drunk in bloodlust that you put children to the sword?" I raised an eyebrow. "How many towns have you sacked, ser? How many farms have you burned?" What was a vampire compared to all the Lannister men who had defiled the Riverlands from end to end, or the right honorable Starks who went and did it all over again after the Lannisters were done? "Every man is a monster if he allows himself to be one, ser. Continue to serve me, and at least you will only be a monster to my enemies."
Rising off the chair in a single movement, I gave him a firm nod. Balon followed me to his feet. "Your Grace, I..."
I waved his words away and turned to leave. "Sleep for today, ser," I said. "You've deserved it. But I expect you at my door tomorrow, bright and early."
When I was already past the door, I heard him call out, "As you command, Your Grace."