A/N: Surprise POV!

Chapter II.2: Grinding Teeth Do Not a Gay Storm Make"

-. 275 AC .-"

Robert Baratheon hated Jon Arryn.

He hated his nose that stuck out like a hook, his eyes that may as well be rocks for all the blue supposed to be in them, his hair that couldn't even stick to one colour, and the man's breath, gods, it stunk like rotten cheese! Even his teeth were falling out! Dad had made him sound so great too! A great towheaded man with broad shoulders, blue eyes, and a bold nose of eaglelike majesticness to go with his shrewd mind, so wise and calming and kindly and it was all just one big bunch of crapbaskets!

Jon was old, stiff, dull, boring, a terrible nag to out-nag every other nag in the world, and he didn't even have a home good enough to winter in! Not that Robert cared for the Eyrie none. With what the Gates of the Moon were like, the Eyrie would probably be boring anyway. Who cared how great it looked from a distance? Jon's breath didn't stink from a distance either, but Robert would have to endure both up close and personal, it was horrible!

And to dump the rest of the bastard down the well, Jon didn't even have a mom to offer! Who was Robert supposed to go denounce the unfairness of fate when everything in his life betrayed him? Old man couldn't even tell when Robert was cussing him out inside his head, this was the man claiming he'll raise and love and cherish him like a second father?

Well he wasn't interested! He already had a father and he was the strongest and handsomest and the best and the greatest, and even if Robert had to bear with that sourpuss of a brother forever, he wanted to go home!

… He wanted to go home.

But they wouldn't let him! Even after he made their life complete hell, they still wouldn't let him. They barely even gave him a second glance when he did something outrageous anymore. They thought ignoring him would grind him down, until he ground his teeth down from all the honor this and duty that and they could go suck air through a reed and choke on it! They even had the balls to pretend not to notice him glaring at them anymore.

But wait, that was a bad sign! They surely couldn't expect him to just stop looking at them sideways. What if they just decided to switch targets? They did decide just to switch targets! Well a pox on that! He'll be damned before he let them do the same to some other poor boy! He wouldn't stand for it! He'd… He'd save him! Yes, that's it. That's what he'll do. Even if he couldn't save himself, he'd save that poor barbarian child or eat grass trying! Except it was winter so he'd probably kiss ice instead. And it wasn't one or the other because he'd already saved himself, thank you very much, but now he was just repeating himself.

To himself.

In his head.

Wow, he really didn't do well sitting and waiting. That was another thing that got him in trouble, especially with Maester Cudius. He regretted ever calling Cressen boring! The Septon was alright though. Urizen would never stop being a stupid name, but as long as his robeliness kept coming in just in time to distract Jon from his latest lecture about Robert's childish antics, he was going to forgive him (antics! childish! him!).

These weren't no antics! This was planning. Strategy. The most actionable of all plans of action! Bold, clear and free of moving parts outside his reach. Just him, the rope and the tree.

Speaking of which…

Robert slapped his cheeks a couple of times, almost falling off the branch he was perched on. Not because he can't balance none – his balance was as perfect as the rest of him, thank you as rudely as you deserve and then some – but because of the desperate lunge he had to make for the rope. He shouldn't have dropped it, but all's well that ends well! And what ended well was him rousing himself up, seeing as there was no one else around to do it. It was all him on this one. Just him. Alone.

Just in time too. The convoy was right below him now, with Jon juuust about in front of him with the little Stark at his front. Look at that runt, he was so small! Barely a year younger but still so tiny. So vulnerable, unsafe, defenceless, he had to protect him! As the eldest, he simply had to, it was his… his d… his du… it was his dewgh… his-

…

"…How's this for duty you fucking cuuuuuuuuuUNTS!?"

Jon and Teeny-Stark barely had time to turn and gape before he crashed into them.

"UNH!"

"WHA-!"

"ROBERT!?"

The feeling of sheer triumph upon flying off with the little Stark in his arms could not be described, even if it was completely stupid because did people still not look up? All the way up here? In the Vale! The Eyrie was literally above them all the time, they should be old hats at craning their necks by now!

Then the flight turned to a fall and he barely had time to wrap himself around the runt before they crashed and proceeded to roll down the slope.

"AH!"

The snowy slope.

"AH!" "UGH!"

The very thickly snow-covered slope he'd prepared the day prior while he was shoveling the path leading up to the Gates of the Moon as punishment, never you mind what for!

"UGH!" "HN!" "URK!"

They rolled down and down and beyond the treeline out of sight.

"AH!" "UGH!" "HN!" "URK!" "OGH!" "Ooooohhhh…"

They came to a stop in a snow-blasted pile of limbs, tangled cloaks, and the sounds of soul-crushing agony as Robert grabbed Teeny-Stark by the collar and yanked him up to his face to- "Help me, Eddard son of Rickard, you're my only hope!"

Wait! That wasn't what he wanted to say!

His only reply was a pained whimper.

Oops. Might have kneed the half-pint in the crotch there. Once or twice. A few times. He let go.

Stark fell and curled up in a ball, moaning what might have been words. Robert eagerly bent down to listen closer to what would surely be his rightful-

"Y-you're," Stark moaned, "The ugliest damsel I've ever seen distressed."

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather I lay back and swoon for you instead? I can do that!"

Wait, that didn't come out right!

"P-piss off," Stark groaned, rolling away from him. "Southron lunatics, I should've stayed home and died from the plague."

Excuse him! See if he ever tries to save him again! Is this the thanks he gets? Where were the words of praise? The blood oaths? Where was his legendary adventuring partner of legend!?

The sounds of shouts and footstomps came from uphill.

"Right, time to go!" Robert threw Teeny-Stark over his shoulder.

"Wh-put me down!"

"You shut up and let this here knight save you, princess."

Honestly, did he want to get them caught? Not that a bit of noise would be enough. They'll never catch him, he had exemplary skills!

He turned away and hightailed it through the bushes right into a pair of legs.

"AOGH!"

Robert fell on his arse. Stark crashed and resumed being a moaning mess of useless northman.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Robert rubbed his forehead and gaped up at the man, shocked. Where? When? How!?

"Lord Eddard, are you hurt?"

Stark stumbled to his feet and scrambled to hide behind the man's legs. "He almost killed me!"

"You rat bastard!"

"Robert," growled Denys Arryn, the Darling of the Vale, keeper of the Gates of the Moon. "Shut up."

Robert shut up.

Denys busied himself checking the runt over, then doing it again before he picked him up to carry and that little jackass! Where were his complaints about being lugged around like a sack now?

Denys glared down at him. "Inside."

"But-"

"Now."

Foiled!

"-. 275 AC .-"

"-uld have been injured! You could have died! Either of you, both of you, what would I have told your fathers? What is even going on in that head of yours, Robert?" The words and more words washed over him like rain. Except not really, because if it were rain, he'd enjoy it. What were you thinking, what weren't you thinking, how could you this, why couldn't you that, when won't you yes, when will you not, do you want me to pretend outrage enough so that maybe you'll actually believe me about writing your parents this time? As if Robert didn't know Jon knew full well that was the whole point. The man never actually followed through on those threats for that exact reason. Gods forbid Robert be allowed to tell his real dad what he thought about this whole- "Well? What have you to say for yourself?"

Fuck literally every word you just said, old man.

Jon waited, and when that didn't do anything he cradled his forehead with a sigh, then addressed Stark. "Forgive him, Ned. Robert's not a bad lad, he's just…"

"A moron," Stark said.

Behind them, Denys snorted.

"Excuse you!" Robert blurted and wait just a darned minute! "Wait a second, Ned? How do you go from Eddard to Ned? That makes no sense. But wait! Are you on pet names already? You no good runt!" He cried, pointing a finger. "You're fraternising with the enemy!"

Eddard Stark looked back in disbelief.

"Don't you look at me like that, you little brat! Don't you have any idea what these people are planning? They'll take you and browbeat you and change you until all you do is nod and drone and scowl and they have you grinding your teeth like Stannis if it were up to them! Well I won't lose my teeth before I'm thirty! I won't!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Robert…" Jon asked, blinking in utter bafflement. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know!" Robert snapped at the man, trying to pretend his chest wasn't twisting in knots. He tried to glare at him, but he could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes so he looked away. "Why did you even ask for me to be sent here when you hate everything about me? You don't want me, it's Stannis you want."

"Oh Robert…"

He wasn't gonna cry. He wasn't. Not with Jon there and Denys there and the runt that didn't have anyone else on his side that could be the big boy and he wasn't gonna cry!

"Denys," Jon said lowly. "Why don't you get Ned settled in?"

"Of course, cousin. Come on, Lord Eddard. I'll show you your rooms."

There was silence as the Lord's solar emptied of all but the two of them.

Jon watched him for a while. A long while. Not long enough. "Robert…"

"I want to go home!" Robert burst. "I want my dad, I want my mom, I want my uncle, I want Donal, I want Storm's End where I at least have the big tower and walls, and the rain and thunder to lull me asleep, not all you holier-than-Barth Valemen all over the place trying to make me into everything I'm not!"

"Robert-"

"I'm not shallow!" And you fuck you too, Lady Megaera, you and Denys deserve each other and then some. "I'm not shallow! I'm not! You don't want me either, or you wouldn't be on my arse about being wise and responsible and mindful and dutiful and honor this and duty that and you can stomp on your duty and eat it! I get it! I'm not good enough. I got it by the first week! But you know what, I don't care! I ain't no Stannis! I won't turn into no Stannis either, so there! I won't become like that grump, I won't! No matter how angry and alone you make me feel even when you don't leave me alone, I won't! And look at that, I didn't! I won! I stuck it out until you all gave up! I didn't think you'd just switch targets on me, but I should've. There's no low you won't sink to, is there? Well good luck trying it with Stark, I won't let you do it to him either! You hear me, Jon? Oh what's that, Jon? You're disappointed, Jon? You want to know why, Jon? Because, Jon…

"I'm Robert Fucking Baratheon!"

What should have been the storm's howling triumph had long since turned into a trembling shriek by the end. Robert would have cursed if his throat hadn't clogged up and-

"Oh Robert."

- and no, no! He didn't give him permission to hug him none, he didn't! "Don't touch me, don't you dare, stay away from me-gerrof!"

"No." Jon knelt and embraced him. "I'm here."

"I don't want you!" Robert burst into tears. "I hate you!"

"I know. It's alright."

"Id's not a'right, y' dumbass! I dun wadda hade people, id feels like crap!"

"That's alright too."

"Id'z not!" Robert sagged in Jon's hold and lost it entirely, crying his lungs out. "I hade dis blace, I hade you, an' fosterin's a pile o' shit!"

Jon held him closer and didn't say anything.

This was it! This was the end! He'd reached the end of his rope! There was no hope anymore, no hope! This was Robert's life now. He was doomed to stay in the Vale, where everyone from the lowest to the highest of men even now didn't get it, after Robert had done everything he could think of to make them feel sorry for having him sent here and then some. Gods, they were all broken in the head here, weren't they? Maester Cudius and his stutter, Septon Urizen and his endless rambling, Denys and Elbert and everyone else that didn't get the message he was hollering, and now Jon too. What, did losing all his kids and wives and other relatives leave him so starved for anything resembling fatherhood that he'd just up and take it?

Jon tightened his hold and held Robert like that until his sobs finally stopped. It took an embarrassingly long time.

Sniff.

Well fine then! Not like he could just run away anyway. He knew his strategy, thank you very much, he'd already tried everything and failed to escape from such determined foes. Well, everything he was willing to try anyway. Hitting them with sticks and stones and what have you was the only thing he hadn't tried, and he'd never do that! You should never hit a child, a dodderer or the lamebrained unless it's live or die, because they're too stupid to know better. Dad said so! Jon was basically two of those, wasn't he? But then… that could only mean he needed Robert the most!

The realisation brought Robert relief like he'd never felt before. Then he just felt stupid for questioning this mess at all. Of course Jon and the rest wanted him here, he was Robert Fucking Baratheon! Who wouldn't want him?

Robert hugged Jon around the middle.

Jon held him closer. He was trying to say something, but his voice was all wobbly now too.

Fine! He'd do it. He'd grace them with his majestic presence if that's what it took. If that's what it took to let him go back home, he'd do it.

He'd save Jon first.

He'd save them all.

…

"…Jon?"

"I'm here Robert."

"Why doesn't your breath stink like bad cheese anymore?"

"-. 275 AC .-"

It was only when Jon walked him to his bedchambers that the other big change to his life dawned on him – he was going to share rooms from now on. With the runtling! Finally, someone to sleep with! It'd been so lonely since Stannis refused to share the same bed after that thing with the bird. He looked at Stark, who was somehow responsible for the incredible miracle of destroying Jon's ability to kill an ox just by blowing in its general direction.

"Ned." Jon stood behind him and pushed Robert forward by the shoulders. "Robert has gotten over what was plaguing him previously." That's not what happened at all! Oh right. Lamebrained. Gotta patient with the lamebrained. "He has something to say."

"I'm Robert Baratheon and I'm here to rescue you!"

"Robert!"

"What?" He glared back over his shoulder. "What was I supposed to say?"

Jon rubbed his forehead. "I brought you here to apologise."

"Well how should I know? This is my bedchamber! And why should I apologise, I'm the one in the right here!"

"Oh, Father help me."

Robert leaned forward. "He always says that. Especially when he hears you saying things you shouldn't know. Did you know cats can kill you and make your death look like a suicide? Just one scratch at your wrist and whoosh, you're off to meet the Stranger."

Jon slapped the back of his head.

Robert rubbed the sore spot and grinned. "He doesn't always do that, but drive him to it and you can be sure he won't call you in for a nagging for at least two days."

"Uncle, I've changed my mind. I don't think I want to share rooms after all."

Oh, right, Elbert was there too. And he talked! Without being spoken too first, even. What an odd thing to do for somehow who was just a side character to the glorious epic of his life.

Robert looked at Stark suspiciously. "Did you do something to him? Because if you think you can just poach my flunkies, you have another thing coming."

Elbert gaped. "Did you just call me a flunky?"

Robert ignored him.

Eddard looked at Robert. He had a really long face now that Robert got a proper look at it. Brown hair and dark grey eyes. Back outside the keep Robert could have sworn they looked like fog, but now they looked kind of like blocks of stone as Stark watched him and said- "You're not like Brandon at all."

"Of course not!" Robert scoffed, affronted. "There's no one else like me!"

Stark just watched him some more. It felt weird. Like looking for shelter in the middle of winter not knowing if the next moment was going to land you in the middle of a blizzard. Robert didn't like the feeling, especially when the other boy was so small. But still the runt watched him, quietly and intently like… like Stannis would've, oh gods, please, no! Don't make him be like Stannis, ye gods, don't be so cruel!

Finally, Eddard Stark dropped his head with a sigh, raised it back, stepped forward and put one hand on his shoulder. "Baratheon. Robert. May I call you Robert?"

Oh thank you, gods, thank you! "I'll allow it." Robert said loftily, because it was best if everyone knew from the start where they stood. "And I will call you Ned of course."

Stark smiled up at him and said: "No." Then he grabbed Robert by the balls and squeezed.

Hard.

"GYAAARGH!"

He went down shrieking.

Pain. Pain! Life was pain!

"Warrior's Rule number 1: when engaging in hand-to-hand combat, your life is always at stake. Warrior's Rule number 2: when engaged in hand-to-hand combat, finish it."

Life was pain. The worst pain. Hard, bursting, throbbing pain. Oh gods, for what sins was he being punished so?

"Eyes. Nose. Throat. Temple. Nape. Ears. Spine. Kidneys. Floating ribs. Armpit. Groin." Eddard Stark's voice came from around him, reciting each word like a poet of death and suffering. "Each one a spot where a good hit can kill a man. I do hope you appreciate my restraint in only avenging myself upon the last."

Robert whimpered.

"What's that, Baratheon? Turnabout is fair play, you say? Why, yes it is. I'm glad we agree, Robert. Otherwise I might have to resort to more segmented approaches to revelation. Stomach, upper lip, collar bone, instep, knee, shoulder, elbow, wrist, fingers. Each so weak and fragile that just one hit can cause unconsciousness and debilitating pain. Would be such a shame if you lost use of one or all of them over so paltry a matter as almost killing me just half an hour ago."

"M-my balls," Robert moaned. "You c-crushed my b-balls!"

"Justice and vengeance, Baratheon. Justice and vengeance," Ned said from beyond the white haze of pain all around him. "Though I suppose I did show unseemly mercy by so unwisely forgoing my body's natural weapons just now. I can reprise the lesson if it pleases you, once for every one of them. Would you like me to provide a list? Or will you submit that my judgment is righteous?"

"I submit, I submit!" Robert groaned, rolling away from the voice. "Gods, do I ever…"

"Well. I'm glad that's settled then." Ned's voice turned away from him then. "I do, of course, owe you an apology as well Jon. Not only did I fail to think quickly enough to do a measly duck, it was this same failure that prevented him from eluding our capture in the aftermath. I can only beg forgiveness and promise to do better henceforth."

Robert squirmed and squinted, confused.

Jon's voice came then, and it sounded like Robert felt. "… Could you repeat that? I'm not sure I'm quite clear on what you're promising, exactly."

There was no answer from Stark. Only a solemn silence.

Robert squinted up, searching Ned's face. All he could see was Stannis.

Stannis, but with a sense of humor.

He was perfect.