Ned:

He heard Robert before he saw him, even over the din of the encampment. It was the same voice he remembered from the Eyrie so long back.

"A pearl of wisdom Bry. Even if she shows up in your bedchamber all naked and throws her bosom in your face, never ever think of taking her to bed." Well, the voice was almost the same, a deeper, stronger timbre now that his balls had dropped.

"And why is that my lord?" Asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Because you never stick your prick in crazy. Never. No matter how much you want to."

They finally locked eyes, and a broad smile came on Robert's face, while a small one played on his. With three swift steps, Robert was soon upon him and began, "You look old."

"Says the one in the beard." Ned replied, a smile creasing his face.

At that they both began laughing, Ned being gathered up in Robert's bear-like hug. When they parted Ned turned to the squire who bowed, while he gave a nod back. "Bry, this is the infamous Ned Stark," Robert said ,"The bane of Vale Clans and highwaymen, and the true muse of many a maid across the Vale and the North" he winked.

"And this, Ned, is Bryce Caron, the heir to Nightsongs, and the one who has prevented my banners rising against me on some ungiven offence."

"Well, it's good that you surround yourself with decent men rather than troublemakers, Robert."

At that Robert guffawed, "Decent? Why Bry, are you a decent man?"

"I'd like to imagine so, my lord," the squire said.

"Oh really? And the scheme at River Slayne," Robert replied in a teasing tone, "Is that what decent men come up with?"

The squire grew beet red, at what Ned spied was embarrassment. Robert clapped the man on his shoulders and laughed. "Go Bry, take the day. We two friends have a lot of tales to trade."

They had ridden their horses to a clearing a ways away from the tent, talking of Renly and Stannis and the things at Arryn court (replace 'the things at Arryn court with 'the happenings at the Eyrie'). Ned remembered Robert's squire and his beet red face and asked, "So what was this scheme at River Slayne?"

"HAH!" Robert guffawed, "Well, this one time we were on one of my lords progress through Stormlands, on our way to the Swann seat."

"You were taking a Lords Progress?"

"I'm doing many other things, Ned, than just doing the usual that is expected of the Lord of the Stormlands. And I have to keep a check on them. This one was about a series of Semaphores that we were building, running the length of Stormlands from Haystack Hall to Nightsong,"

"Were building?"

"Yes, it's done now. Most of the roads and semaphores are. Now everything gets across Stormlands faster," Robert turned back to him, a large grin on his face, "at Thunderous speed. Ha! Anyway Ned, you're distracting me from the juice of it."

"Yes, the scheme at Slayne."

"That could be a title of a play. Anyway, we had been riding hard when we reached the part of the Slayne that is famous for it's pools. We tied the houses ways back with enough rope so that they may graze. We spied a pool and headed towards it, thinking of drinking and washing our palet, when suddenly we hear voices coming, sweet womanly voices."

"There were women bathing?"

"And just so happens that they numbered just as much as we did. So we ducked behind a shrub, and you know how us men are." Robert accented the point with a wink. "We decided to watch. We were content on doing so but the bastard of Nightsong gets in his head a very mischievous notion."

"You stole their clothes?"

"Well, not me. I tried to dissuade them first, but I knew these lechers would have none of it. And I'm to big and not as nimble so Rolland and the heir of Wensingtons, Ormund, went ahead and come back with their clothes. Didn't even leave a stray piece of fabric for the ladies to cover themselves with. Sometime later the lasses start panicking."

"Tis a cruel thing to do, Robert." Ned said, though the smile on his face didn't abate.

"Just what I thought!" His friend said in mock seriousness, "But when we had our fill of fun from their panic, I thought, enough is enough, let's return their clothes. But Rolland and Bryce, they share blood. I shouldn't have forgotten that."

"Let me guess, you threw away everything but their smallclothes and proceeded to give them that."

"That's too simple for Bry. He pulls us all in a huddle and tells us what to do. And so we pull out our swords," His friend turned back to Ned, perhaps just realising how that sounded, "No, our real steel swords, not what you're thinking, you dog! Anyway, we start clanging our live steel in a way that would make the most sound, screaming and shouting, half of us screaming "Brigands! Villains!" the rest affecting tone smallfolk-like. Finally, the second half ran away, making loud noises."

"Why would you do this?"

"So Bry, and us behind him, can emerge from the shrub only to return and give the wenches their clothes back, blaming the theft on some imagined up brigands and promising to protect their honor from the said brigands. Later on the other half that ran away came back on horses, saying that just ran down some bloodied and frightened brigands. Together we promised to see them to safety as the wenches made doe-eyes toward their chivalrous saviours." Robert guffawed at that and Ned joined in with his laugh."I tell you Ned, If it weren't for the goat skin sheathes and pulling out I drilled into these fuckers, I am sure many a milkmaids would have swollen large with their bastards."

"So these are the many things you've been doing since you left the Eyrie?"

"Well, not really. I mean, just look at the trade that's coming in. Smallfolk now buy copper ladles Ned, smallfolk!" His friend said, their laugh having died down, "Together with the ports that have come up in Stonedance, Greenstone and Tarth, the roads and semaphores, there is so much commerce that comes and goes through our rain-beaten land. Commerce that fills me and mines' coffers. And town charters, five years and five town charters. Five Ned! You know how unusual that is?" His friend turned back with a questioning look, then turned ahead before continuing, "I can't shit gold yet, to be sure, but I'm getting there."

"Robert Baratheon worrying over copper counting?" Ned asked with a teasing smile, " Where is my friend and what have you done with him?"

Robert slowed his horse and came up besides him, "Well, Ned Stark! You have exposed me for the Faceless Man that I am," his friend said with a rueful smile, "But truly, Ned. You know how much coin a castle bleeds? Jon and Maester Coleman tried to prepare me for this back in the Eyrie, but you know just as well as I do how much I was willing to learn. But I did learn, Ned, the hard way. How much penny pinching old Nuncle Harbert did just to buy Arbor Gold for my nameday. And then I looked around me, around my lands. A land that went from ruling nigh half of south to the weakest fucking piss poor land in all of South."

"So you went about remedying it?"

"Pretty much. Everything I could think of, even improving relations with the Dornish, over the grumbles of my marcher lords. I assuaged them in other ways. All these old farts, save my mother's house and lord of Tarth dragged their feet, Grandison even said that he wouldn't be beholden to a fucking monger. A monger, Ned! Bringing these fuckers prosperity and that fucker dared to call his overlord a monger. In front of everyone."

"Tis' indeed a grievous insult, Robert, that too to a Lord Paramount."

"And grievously he answered for it. At first I thought maybe House Baratheon should write their own Rains," His friends face was now cloudy with rage, "Then I thought better, and sent my glove flying directly in his face." Then a small smile came upon him, though the anger was still there, "And the fucker took the bait. He challenged me to a duel, I beat him into a red and purple pulp in return. Though stopped myself short of killing the fucker. And that, strangely won me respect with my vassals"

"My father always said that sometimes the ruler is required to be stern."

"Somebody should have told me earlier, I'd have beaten the lot of them bloody, speaking of which, is your father still wroth with me?"

"Not anymore, though Bran is another matter. And Lya to some extent, which she'll be sure to poke you on. Me and Lord Jon were able to convince my father that those ravens were just folly on your part."

"And they truly were. I really didn't mean to offend Ned, you know that. That's why I had Bry write the fourth one. The one of acceptance."

"Still, refusal, polite though it was Robert. And thrice damned times too."

"You remember what you said of Lyanna, Ned?"

"What in particular?"

"Oh everything. That she's half a horse herself. That she practices swords with little Benjen in the godswood. The South is not the North Ned, we have no Bear Islands to point to. Even uncouth brutes like Stormlanders, even when we expect our women to lead the household troops in case the menfolk die off, even then, they expect the women to be all prim and proper."

"So it was Lyanna. I wrote to you Robert. I said-"

"I know what you said. And I'm not holding that against her Ned, as I've told you a thousand times. And sure, she'll act the perfect little lady in front of my lords," His friend said turning towards him with a questioning look, "But will she be happy Ned, happy to give up all the freedoms your lord father provides her to be a broodmare for a man she scarce knows?"

That left Ned without any rebuttal. He had prepared many answers, for Lyanna's wolf blood, for the dower his lord father would give to Robert, for the matter of the Southern Faith. But to that, he had no answers.

"It makes no matter. Jon and Lord Rickard had a notion in their head and they wouldn't let a green boy whose stones had just dropped to counter it. Besides, we are betrothed now, aren't we?"

"That you are, Robert. That you are."

"And I'll need your help, when I face the icy northern wind that are your kin. Come!" His friend said launching his steed into a gallop.

A/N: Just to be clear, Robert is betrothed to Lyanna, but he did try to deflect that three times, till Jon Arryn wrote a strongly worded letter and Bryce counseled against refusing again as it might give offense if it hasn't already. So Robert had Bryce write up the fourth letter.