Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and First Men, Slayer of Rhaegar Targaryen, was well and truly outmatched. Oh, he was giving it his all, no doubt about it, but his opponent was something else entirely. For all his strength and years of experience, his mastery and love of the art of combat, his foe was always one step ahead of him. The way he moved and twisted away from his mighty hammer strikes, he would swear that he was toying with him, for twirled and slid around him like the finest water dancers of Braavos. No matter how hard he tried, he would always either dodge the strike or parry it with his blade with just the most minimal of effort.
It didn't take a wise man to figure out he was gonna lose.
No sooner had he thought that did the flat part of a sword smack him behind the knee. He grunted as he was forced to bend the knee (oh the irony!), only for that same blade to rest against the side of his neck.
I win, A voice spoke in his mind, a hint of smugness detected, Again.
"Yeah, yeah," Robert grumbled, "No need to rub it in, you blue bastard." A black and blue paw extended to him, and Robert grabbed it to pull himself up. He looked down and briefly considered the creature that bested him.
Luc of House Cario (as he had knighted him almost fifteen years ago), Knight of Ser Jon Arryn of the Vale, Kingsguard and the king's best adviser, was a strange little creature. He was about four feet tall, hardly bigger than a dwarf. He looked like some kind of blue, bipedal dog (though he insisted he was more of a "jackal", whatever that meant). Despite being a creature with godlike abilities in combat - considered the Warrior Incarnate by many of the smallfolk, in fact - his body was marked with small scars and little healed injuries from combatants that managed to get one lucky hit in. The most prominent one was the eyepatch over his left eye, where the Mountain had scratched it to the point of blindness. Though he could still see through it with his Aura ability (meaning that he could sense the feelings of others, and see them even through walls), he kept the eyepatch to not scare women and children, and give him a deceptive edge against those that didn't know him. He wore the personalized golden armor of the Kingsguard, though in truth he didn't need it - if anything, he kept it as a hindrance to make fighting and sparring fair.
Much had happened since Luc had appeared so long ago. The Targaryen family had escaped the Sack of King's Landing, spared the wrath of Gregor Clegane by Luc himself. Robert had been made King of Seven Kingdoms, as both leader of the Rebellion and his family having a little bit of Royal Blood on his mother's side. Despite the coup and the outing of their sister, the Martells are somewhat more friendly with the other kingdoms, thanks in part to a visit Cario made to Sunspear. The Lannisters, however, have been on the outs as of late, the grudge Luc had with Tywin had kept them out of most King's Landing business. The recent shipments of gold had been far smaller than he'd like, but there was nothing he could do about that. Not yet, anyway.
Luc, in between his travels of the Realm and undergoing missions for the Crown, had been forcing Robert to work out in a similar manner to the way his old master trained him. If I am to serve you, Your Grace, He'd often tell him, You should be working just as hard as I to stay at your best. Arceus forbid I ever let you get fat and have to carry you to safety. And work him he did. If anything, despite the many years of being king and staying away from combat, he was stronger now than he was the day of the Trident. His swing was strong enough to crack the stones of the Red Keep, if he felt inclined to.
"Your Grace," A messenger greeted them, "Lord Arryn is here to see you."
"About what?" Robert demanded.
"He didn't say, Your Grace," The messenger answered, "But his son is here as well. They wish to see you and Ser Luc, if it please you."
Robin's here? The Lucario smiled, pleasantly surprised, I haven't seen him since was just a babe.
"Aye, me neither," The king agreed, "And I was drunk off my ass the whole time I was in the Vale. I don't remember a godsdamned thing."
Not even all those whores you fucked?
"ESPECIALLY all those whores I fucked!" Robert replied with a wink.
The King and his Pokemon guard left the training courtyard, making their way through the many winding halls and corridors of the Red Keep, before they entered the chambers of the Hand of the King. There, they found the elderly Lord of the Vale (and Luc's true master), Jon Arryn, sitting at his desk with his young son.
"Luc, my friend!" He approached them, holding out his hand. "So good to see you again!"
Likewise, Jon. Lucario agreed, returning the handshake. It's been too long. He glanced over at the boy standing awkwardly behind him, and smiled. And who's this young ser behind you?
"Don't be shy, Robin," Jon said, nudging the young boy closer, "Say hello to your knight and your king."
"Ser Knight," The boy mumbled, bowing his head to them both, "Your Grace."
"Ah, he's a handsome one," The King chuckled, "The Ladies will be all over him when he's a man grown."
"One can hope," Jon agreed, "If we can keep him away from his mother long enough to make him some friends. Getting her to let me take him here was like pulling teeth."
"Aye, she was always a worry-wort," Robert snorted.
Though that just makes her an excellent mother, Luc interjected, Right, My Lords? He gave them both withering looks, chiding them for badmouthing the child's mother in front of him.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course," Jon agreed, "He knows I love his mother. But we all know that she can be... wound tight, sometimes. Don't we, Robin?" The boy nodded, albeit shyly.
Luc didn't show it, but he had to agree. Lysa Arryn (formerly Lysa Tully) was a bit of a neurotic case. Her two miscarriages had done a number on her psyche, making her clingy and more paranoid than was strictly necessary. He had to wonder how Jon was able to convince her to let Robin go with him to King's Landing, considering its reputation as a wretched hive of scum and villainy (even after all of his own work to change that).
"Ah, good, wine's here!" Robert declared, as a servant girl came in with a bottle and three glasses.
Ah ah ah, water first, Lucario chided him, pulling the bottle away from Robert. You need to rehydrate before you drink.
"Bah! You're no fun!" Robert growled, grabbing the water sack instead, drinking deeply. Luc was proud of his efforts with the King, keeping him from indulging in too much of his vices. He still drank, ate and slept around far more than a proper king should, but at least he hadn't lost his physique or his dignity. Westeros had taught him to appreciate what victories he could get.
So, my friend, Luc asked, as he filled up their glasses, How have things been back in the Vale?
"All is fair, as it ever is," Jon explained, swirling the wine around, "The Men of the Moon have been attacking caravans, though less than they used to. Trade has picked up with the Free Cities, and our coffers are more full than they've been in years."
"Any word from Pentos?" Robert asked, keeping his voice neutral, even as Luc could see the hints of anger in his Aura.
"No changes since last time," Jon assured him, drinking the wine, "The Targaryen royal family is still staying at the magistrate's estate. The youngest is now old enough to be married off, though I haven't heard of any suitors just yet."
"Good," Robert grunted, finishing his water, "The last thing we need are more of those fuckers being bred and getting an army. I agreed that I'd leave them alone so long as they stayed on the other side of the Narrow Sea. If they start making moves to take what's mine, I'll fucking kill them, and there's nothing either of you can do to stop me."
Hopefully, Luc said, It won't have to come to that. Right, Jon?
Jon opened his mouth as if to speak, only to start coughing. He coughed, and coughed, and coughed, his hands going to his mouth and throat. Panic shone in his eyes, as the coughs turned to gags.
Jon?! Luc rushed to his side, catching him as he fell back. Jon?! What's happening?!
He tried to speak, but blood and vomit burbled from his mouth. His eyes were starting to turn red and bulging. Robert ran out of the room, yelling at the top of his lungs for a maester. Robin stared on, wide-eyed in fear and shock.
Don't try to talk! He said quickly and directly to Jon, Just focus on breathing. Just think, and I can hear you.
Luc! Jon thought, panic and fear evident in his mind, I've been poisoned! I'm dying!
I know. Just hold on a little longer. We'll get you a maester.
They won't make it in time. Jon thought, his mind becoming quick and desperate as his breaths became shallower. Luc, please listen. I need you to take care of my boy. Lysa loves him, but she'll always see him as a child. Only you can help make him a man and Lord of the Vale.
I will. I'll take him as my squire if I have to.
Good man. He gasped and wheezed, his time growing short. I'm sorry, my friend, but I've been keeping a secret from you. You have a child.
Luc stared at him, completely caught off-guard. W-… What?
Go to The North, He begged, Talk to Ned. He'll tell you everything you need to know. I wish I knew more, Luc. I wish I could've told you sooner. I'm sorry to leave you like this. I pray The Seven can forgive me. I…
Jon spasmed and shook. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. His grip tightened on Luc, and then became limp.
"…Father?" Robin spoke, barely a whisper, shaking his shoulder, "Father! Please wake up!"
Jon? Luc's heart sank. Jon?! Through his Aura Sight, he saw the energy fade and vanish from his master's body. Jon!
Luc howled - a echoing, somber sound of mourning, so loud and resonant the whole castle could hear.
Another Arryn was gone, and he was alone once again…