Ned and Robert

Robert slapped him on the back hard enough to make Harry reel forward a couple of paces. Both he and Ned had come down with Harry as far as the Gates of the Moon, where his cousin Ser Denys held court, to send him on his way. "Seven speed you, Hal, and good fortune with that Tully maid. I daresay you'll have an uphill tilt to impress her after she's laid eyes on Brandon Stark, eh Ned? A lance a dozen feet in length, were those not his very words?" the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands roared with laughter at the crude innuendo, complete with vigorous thrusting gestures that left no doubt as to his meaning.

The smirk on Ned's face gave the lie to his disapproving shake of the head. "Yes, indeed, his very words. My brother, the heir to Winterfell."

Harry chuckled. "Well, Brandon Stark's long lance aside, it's Lord Hoster I must needs impress if I'm to get the maid to wife." He grinned. "And besides, I'm no poor jouster myself."

Robert laughed again as he gripped Harry's shoulder tight. "Oh, aye, I'm sure that red-haired Jenny would swear to that, by the old gods and the new! Maybe best not to mention those jousts to Lord Hoster though."

"Thanks, Robert, I was going to tell them all about my b*st*rd son," Harry said. Jenny was a peasant maid who lived down the foot of the Giant's Lance with red hair; more than red it was like fire to look on, so bright, so long... Harry wasn't sure why, but he'd always had a thing for redheads. Something about red hair, it just... he dreamed of it, so often. A maid with hair like fire, a maid that he desired, a maid that he would rend and tear and kill for. It seemed that they had left a lingering effect on him in more ways than one.

And she had given him a son, Albin by name, about of an age with Robert's daughter Mya. Lord Arryn's disapproval meant that Harry saw the boy less often than he ought, but he made sure that Jenny was provided for, and when the boy was older Harry meant to see him well taught.

Robert sighed. "Oh, Hal, I shall miss you on a bawdy night when you are betrothed and can no longer hold my flank. What will I do without you?"

"Betrothal hasn't stopped you," Harry pointed out.

"Betrothal to my sister," Ned remarked pointedly.

Robert had the good grace to look ashamed of himself. "A man has needs, Ned, you know that. Or would, if you weren't made of ice. You know I mean no dishonour or disgrace upon Lyanna, I love her, Ned. When we are wed I'll put aside all savour of my rakish youth and live so pure and wholesome that septons shall be amazed at my reformation, so long as it shall make her happy. I swear it, Ned, by all the seven, by the old gods and the new, or string me up by the heels in the larder and call me a smoked ham."

Harry and Ned exchanged glances. Robert was a fine man, bold and loyal, but Harry doubted that he had it in him to endure the night celibate state that men called fidelity in marriage. He loved life too much - he loved women too much, more to the point - to cage it all within the bonds of matrimony. Harry had no doubt he meant the vow he had just made, but vows came easily to Robert Baratheon; he was made of that hardy and heroic measure from whose lips oaths leapt as easily as common words fell from the mouths of lesser men. Some oaths he found the keeping of more easy than others, and Harry had the suspicion that he would find the keeping of this particular vow most arduous.

And yet for all his faults he was the best of them. Warmer than Ned, more honest than Harry, bluff and genial with a laugh that made other men want to laugh with him, and a jovial manner than could tolerate even to be laughed at when he deserved it, though his fist was ready at the end of a strong arm to smash the teeth in of any man who laughed at him when he did not deserve it. A mighty warrior and a chivalrous knight, a towering figure of a man with strength to match, he was without compare, a knight amongst knights and a man among men.

That was why Harry knew that he could get away with saying what he did. "If you turn into a septon, Robert, then when I am Lord of the Eyrie I will give up all my lands and live as a begging brother in the Mountains of the Moon, or truss me up like a sack of turnips."

Robert looked sorely offended, but the twinkle in his blue eyes showed he was more amused than genuinely hurt. "Sweet Hal, you doubt my word of honour?"

"We doubt it's honour that guides your lance," Ned muttered.

Harry and Robert looked at him.

"What?" Ned asked. "Don't look at me to give you two ideas of how you can stuff me into a barrel of oranges."

"Too late, Ned," Robert declared happily. "But you two do me wrong, when have I ever broken faith with any man, having sworn my solemn word to them."

"With man? None," Harry said. "But with woman often."

Robert laughed. "You are as cruel as Tears of Lys, Hal. I should be mocking you as you set out but you have turned all my blows straight back on me."

Harry shrugged. "I cannot turn your hammerblows aside so easily in the training yard, if I could not match you with words I would be a forlorn fellow indeed. But what reason would you have to mock me, is the maid hideous?"

"Brandon writes that she has nothing to compare against her sister Catelyn," Ned said. "He mentions Lysa very little, just to say that he was grateful it was to Catelyn he was betrothed and not her..."

Harry folded his arms. "Go on, Ned, you might as well finish."

"And not her shy, plain sister," Ned concluded.

Robert laughed as he slammed his hand once more into Harry's back. "Shy and plain, Hal, doesn't it make anticipation swell in you?"

"Shyness is nothing," Harry said, waving one hand dismissively. "Perhaps I'll be gentle with her in my turn, and woo her with soft words and kindness."

"That will impress Lord Hoster without doubt, to wed his daughter to Lord Arryn's girl," Ned said.

Harry's attempt at a haughty and disapproving look was marred by the smile that crinkled his face. Ned's plain, long face and tendency to dourness hid a tongue as sharp a serpent's tooth when he chose to wield it. He lacked something of Robert's merry manner and thus he could not so easily put men at their ease; it was fortunate that he had been born second son to the lord of Winterfell, for he always seemed more content to follow than to lead.

Or perhaps it was being but second born had made him so. Who could really tell?

"Well then, Ned, being so wise, what council do you have for me in this?" Harry asked.

"Don't worry about Jaime Lannister!" Robert declared, before Ned could speak. "Who is he anyway, a mere stripling boy, neither knight nor man. He'll not unhorse you in the tilt, not by the Warrior."

"The gold of Casterly Rock would make a capering dwarf look an attractive match, I fear," Harry replied.

"Lord Tywin has a capering dwarf for a son, yet has not offered him in marriage," Robert said.

"If gold were all Lord Hoster wanted he would not entertain your father's suit," Ned remarked. "But he does entertain it, and willing is to entertain you. Most like that means it is a strong husband he seeks for his daughter, and a pot of gold."

"Mayhap you should tell him about the boy," Robert said. "It shows your seed is strong."

"Mayhaps it might, Robert, but though I must woo Lord Hoster I must live all my days afterwards with Lady Lysa," Harry said. "Ned, good Ned, wise Ned, friend Ned have you no council for your dear friend Hal?"

"You ask me this, when I am no more betrothed than you at present?"

"I ask you this because you pay best attention when my father speaks," Harry replied.

Ned pondered the question for a moment. "Lord Hoster Tully is said to have a particulare care for his smallfolk. My father speaks well of him for it, and Brandon is amused by it. It may impress him that you are known to keep your vows."

"Indeed, a veritable Duncan the Tall, you are Hal," Robert said.

"You praise me more than I deserve," Harry said. "But it may work. And I have no better ideas. Thank you, Ned."

Ned and Robert followed Harry out into the courtyard, where Collyn was waiting with Harry's horse, along with twenty men of Lord Arryn's guard who would escort him against the menaces of the mountain clans. The air was chill against his face as Harry pulled on his gloves and mounted his mare.

"Does being betrothed change a man, Robert?"

Robert glanced at Ned. "In faith, Hal, it has made me sober, earnest and responsible. Couldn't you tell?"

Ned snorted.

Harry grinned. "I'd tell you to stay out of trouble while I'm gone but, well, what would be the point?"

Ned smiled. "Good fortune, Hal."

"Aye, seven blessings."

Harry nodded courteously, and held out his arm as, with a shriek, his gyrfalcon Hedwig - another name he recalled from his strange dreams, one that appealed to him - swooped down through the air to land upon his wrist. She shrieked in greeting at him before she began to preen her tawny feathers.

"Good morning to you as well," Harry remarked.

"Are you ready, Ser Harry?" asked Collyn.

"I am indeed," Harry said. "Let us ride."