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Of all the challenges Samwell had believed he would face as Grand Maester to the crown, this certainly hadn't been one of them.

"Lord Arryn wants…are you quite certain?"

Even without the slightest intonation to his voice, Brandon was still able to portray his confusion-and his contempt.

"I don't think he's being particularly unreasonable, Your Grace." Sam rushed, his hands hidden awkwardly in the pockets of his robes. "I mean, I can't think of anyone who would be delighted to marry someone they barely knew."

"Sometimes, the more ignorant one is, the better," Tyrion said from his chair, cup of wine half-empty in his hand. His voice was half-sarcastic. "Many a good marriage has been ruined by knowing each other too well…"

"Honestly, I think this could be a very good idea." Sam spoke over the Hand, holding his own in the small council chamber. "If you were to start your betrothal on a good foot, it could really enhance the relationship between the Vale and the crown. Things could be much easier for you both down the line."

Brandon still looked strange. He stared vaguely out of the window as he spoke-a habit, Samwell admitted, that he loathed-but he spoke with a biting tone. "Doesn't Lord Arryn see how important this arrangement is for the Kingdoms? There isn't time to waste!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam shared a significant look with Tyrion.

"It is at your pleasure, of course, Your Grace," said the Hand finally, hiding a sigh with his fingers. "But I don't think it would hurt to give the boy a little of what he wants…play the game his way, as it were."

In his own, extremely subtle way, there was the slightest discomfort in Brandon's face. "What ought I do?" he asked, finally.

Tyrion gave an impatient hand gesture as he searched for the words to say. "…Perhaps you could take dinner with him. Show him around the Red Keep. Prove to him that you're…well…human." Even he was not certain whether this was the appropriate word to apply to Brandon. "I'm sure he would be far more positively disposed towards you if he felt comfortable in your company. Remember." He leaned forward, utter seriousness in his eyes. "This is for the Kingdoms. And you are the king."

A strange yellow light grew ever brighter…brighter and brighter, as if the sun was rising in Robin's mind, turning the sky every shade of pink and red…

Slowly, Robin's eyes fluttered open. He found himself horizontal, staring up at the scarlet canopy above his head. There was a strange, sweaty feeling over his body that was simultaneously hot and cold. As his head cleared, Robin realised that he must have fallen asleep fully-clothed.

Oh Gods. Robin curled up miserably into a ball, snuggling into the soft blankets. How could he have fallen asleep? The empty feeling in his stomach told him that it was past lunchtime. How could he have allowed himself to take an extended nap-a nap that would surely stop him from sleeping well that night? How stupid he was! Perhaps all the travelling and excitement had thrown his body out of kilter…perhaps he was delicate after all.

Robin buried his face in the pillows, missing his own bed at home in the Eyrie more than ever. He remembered his childhood chamber, his mother stroking his hair and singing softly to him as he fell blissfully asleep, without a care in the world…how he wished he could be a child again. How he wished his mother could be here…how he wished Uncle Petyr was here…Hot tears began to prickle behind his eyes as he realised how utterly alone he was in the world.

Well. All except for Alyssa…

Knock.

Robin raised his head blearily, shaking it a few times to try to expel the last fog of sleep. "Who is it?" he called out, trying to sound as if he had been awake for hours.

"It is your king." came a low voice from outside.

Instantly, Robin felt as if a heavy weight had just taken root deep inside him. As despondent as he felt, the one who had caused it all was the last person he wanted to see. Still, bound by duty, Robin slid from the bed and made his way to the door, smoothing his hair back into place as he went. He pulled the door open to see Brandon the Broken sitting in his wooden chair, staring up at him with those same cold, probing eyes. Behind him, presumably having pushed him there, was Ser Podrick Payne, dressed in full armour and looking extremely awkward.

"Your Grace." Robin greeted him, icily polite. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Brandon looked up at him, a peculiar air in him. Then, as if he were being forced to speak, he answered: "I would take the air upon the battlements. Would you join me?"

Feeling intensely wrong-footed, Robin strolled wearily by the side of the king's chair. It was a glorious day; the sky was clear, stretching all the way over Blackwater Bay, and the sun shone, glistening off the stones of the crenelated walls. He had not known what to think when Brandon had asked him here; the king had not made the slightest bit of effort to spend time with him before now. Perhaps, he thought, a flicker of hope in his heart, the cause was not lost…

"This is truly a beautiful city!" Robin exclaimed desperately, in an effort to break the silence. "Of course, the Vale is unmatched for landscape and natural wonder, but I do believe-from this distance at least-Kings Landing is quite lovely after all!"

Brandon made no attempt to react to Robin's words, apart from the slightest inclination of his head. His eyes were fixed firmly upon the sky.

Steeling himself, Robin tried again. "I must say, I am most grateful that you asked me here, Your Grace. I am not certain we got off to the best start in the throne room, and I am delighted that you might have the chance to redeem yourself."

From behind them both, Ser Pod gave the slightest, embarrassed, cough.

"…I hope you liked the falcon, anyhow." Robin finished, feeling a pink tinge growing on his cheeks.

At this-Brandon gave the first sign of response. "Yes. The bird is magnificent. Most useful."

Robin was unsure exactly what the king meant by this, but he decided to take the statement at face value. Perhaps, as he listened to Brandon being so very grateful for the favour he had brought him, he could see the worth of giving gifts as well as receiving them. Certainly, he felt the very first surge of warmth he had experienced in a long time.

"I am very grateful for the opportunity to get to know my king better." he said, giving Brandon a small smile.

Very slightly, Brandon clenched his jaw. "What would you like to know?"

Robin was silent for a few moments. The far-away look about those eyes did have a certain…appeal. The more the king spoke to him, the more he began to consider his absent mystery in a different way. Perhaps, if they ever did wed, his unusualness could seem thrilling, rather than terrifying…

"Well, if we are ever to be married, I should like to know everything." Robin answered, his smile growing more natural.

"Everything?" Brandon suddenly blinked, very slowly. "It would take an eternity for me to share all I have seen…"

The fact that Robin did not understand half the words that came out of Brandon's mouth seemed to matter less and less. "Perhaps you could start with…hang on." Robin paused, an idea suddenly striking him like lightening. "Or, we could start off with me! I could tell you all about me, and then you could start on your…eternity." He beamed, as brightly as the sun. "How does that sound?"

Brandon's eyebrows knitted together the smallest fraction. "But I already know all about you."

Once more, Robin was intrigued. "Whatever do you mean, Your Grace?" he asked, his voice rather soft. Behind them, Podrick was staring very definitely forward, trying to look anywhere but at the afternoon stroll he was third-wheeling.

"I mean exactly what I said." said Brandon bluntly. "I know everything."

"What do you know?" Robin pressed him, feeling anticipation stirring inside. "Tell me."

For a moment, Brandon breathed in and out. Then-he opened his mouth.

"Your name is Robert Arryn, though you prefer Robin, because that is what your mother called you. You were born almost nineteen years ago, on a bright summer's morning. They rang the bells for you for a day and a night. Your father was Jon Arryn, who served as Hand of the King to his old ward: Robert of House Baratheon, your namesake. He was murdered after he discovered the Lannister's incestuous secret."

"What-?" Robin was struck to the bone by this steady outpouring of truth. "Your Gr-"

Calmly, Brandon continued. "Despite countless attempts to have you fostered elsewhere, you were raised in the Eyrie by your mother. You are extremely prone to sickness, and were not expected by many to reach maturity."

"What on Earth do you mean by-!" Robin felt failingly helpless in the face of this extraordinary statement. But, like a river, Brandon rolled along.

"After your mother died, you were given to House Royce on the orders of your stepfather, Petyr Baelish, of whom you were very fond-not least because he spoiled you as much as your mother did."

"Don't talk about my mother like that!" Robin cried, anger seizing him. He felt his face growing pale, his cheeks flushing red. "And don't talk about Uncle Petyr-!"

Still, in this steady stream, Brandon went on. "Yohn Royce attempted to train you in the art of war, but was utterly unsuccessful. You have no talent for the sword, nor for the bow, nor are you a horseman. But what need had you of any of that? You were Lord of the Vale. After the death of your stepfather, you moved back to the Eyrie to rule as Lord Paramount in your own right. Since then, you have developed a fondness for visiting establishments in Gullstown, where your favourite whores are Elliana, because she holds you close and strokes your hair, and Bastyn, because he-"

"Stop it, stop it!" Robin shrieked, clutching his hands to his ears.

"You are unaware that your confidant lies and deceives you-"

"STOP IT!"

His voice seemed to echo over the entire city. On the opposite turret, a flock of birds took flight in shock.

Brandon looked up at him. There was no cruelty in those staring eyes. And neither was there warmth. "Now do you understand? I know everything about you, my lord. There is simply no need for this exercise."

Robin was far too flabbergasted to think clearly-and far too furious to try. Instead, as he was wont to do-he simply screamed: "I hate you! I hate you!"

With that, he turned with a whip of his cloak and a clattering of his boots on the stone. Then, he ran as fast as he could into the Red Keep.

"…Well…" Brandon gave a small sigh-before turning his head to speak to Podrick, who wore a rather shellshocked expression. "His reaction could have been more desirable."

Pod was silent for a moment. Then, as he began to push the king back inside:

"Maybe it was something you said, Your Grace…"