Robert II

The sea was not cold like he expected. It was not warm either. His skin was numb in the water, as his body was slowly dragged into the depths. No, he realised with growing horror, my body is dragging itself to the depths of this depthless sea. His progress downwards from the surface was slow but irreversible. The more he struggled, the lesser his efforts seemed to bear fruit. Before he could give himself to panic, a familiar voice called from above.

"Father?" It shouldn't be possible, yet there stood Steffon Baratheon, commanding a mare made of waves as deftly as he commanded a live horse, as strong and unbreakable as Robert remembered him. His shock was so great he almost didn't notice that, with the word, a bubble of white light escaped his mouth and reached the surface he wasn't able to. "How are you here? You are gone, like Mother...Am I dead as well?"

"You will be soon if you keep drowning" His father's blunt manner as usual brought him comfort even as the words he said snatched it away. Father will save me, he soothed himself, he didn't come here to watch me drown. He will tell me how to get out of here. His lord father grasped Robert's plight and tried getting off his mare to help him, apparently believing that he wouldn't drown himself.

He was unable to, Robert saw, even as he sank deeper while fighting to get to the surface.

"I can't reach you. You can rely on my words to get you to safety though."

"Tell me what to do, father—" his words were cut off as the bubble of light flew up and the dreadful water seemed to choke him.

"You must do exactly as I say, Robert, just as you used to as a boy."

Robert's nodding must've looked frantic to his father but he could not be bothered to care. These waters were like leeches around him, sucking his life, his memories, his nature, his very being from his body every second he remained there.

"Let go. Stop struggling and let go" He would've laughed save for the fact that it would have taken his last few breaths from him. He renewed his efforts to reach the surface with a new intensity but it only brought him closer to his death. His father's comforting figure disappeared from his view as he sank deeper and his hands turned clammy with the awareness.

"Fa-ahh..Father! Don't leave me" He would've been ashamed of his stuttering if he didn't feel like a boy being felt behind by his father. Left behind to die, he thought with a chill climbing up his spine.

"You must do as I say, Robert. You gave me your word that you would always do so." Overwhelmed by relief and gratitude, he felt fit to weep on hearing his father's voice once more.

"I'll drown if I let go. Please, father, I don't want to die." As he spoke the words, the last of the light bubbles floated up and left him in the darkness unlit.

He saw a flash of teeth to his side, felt something glide in the still waters near his back. When he turned he saw only the shadows of death.

More terrifying than all that was the realisation of how far he had sunk and how far he could still go. The sea would do worse than kill him if he drowned; Robert knew it in his bones.

"Do as I say, Robert. Let go. Follow my advice" His father's firm voice sounded melodious to his ears and were the instructions anything other than the guarantee of his death, he would've hastened to obey.

Body still sauntering downwards on the waves, he heard the words echoing through his mind, stretching and pulling at his thoughts, one misstep away from unravelling his mind.

"Heed my words. Do as I say. Always do as I say. Aye, do as I say. Always do as I say. Aye, always do as I say, for you must heed my words." The words sounded like Patchface's ramblings to his drained self, but that couldn't be possible, surely.

Do as I say. Aye, do as I say. Do as I say, aye. Do as I say. Do as I say. Aye, do as I say. Do as I say, aye. Do as I say. "Aye, do as you say." Robert could not tell if the words or thoughts were his own.

"Then let go. Do as I say and let go." He let go, though whether it was due to father's words or exhaustion, he could not tell.

Miraculously, his body did not start sinking faster and the water instead led him to the light.

"What did I tell you, my boy?" His father looked unbothered as he sat on his watery mare. Robert was floating in the water, trying to stick his head out of the surface, yet he could not do it.

His father noticed how his attention was still on this endeavour. "I've just saved you from a watery death, boy. Will you speak nothing of it?"

"Thank you," he managed to mumble, but it seemed to have satisfied his father. "Can you help me come out of the water?"

"If you had hesitated any more in heeding my words, you would have drowned. Do not take that risk again, my stubborn boy. Do you swear it?"

Robert did not hesitate for even an instant before swearing the oath to his father.

"I'll hold you to that promise. Remember the stories you have heard about what happens to oath-breakers. As for your question, I will not be able to help you out of the water; you will have to swim yourself."

"But I was drowning when I tried swimming," he protested.

"In the ocean, yes. But in the river? You'll have to swim along the current." The sea transformed into a river at his father's words and Robert followed the instructions as he promised with only a fraction of hesitation. He could feel the current of the river now and he allowed it to carry him forward. Father kept up with him on his steed.

"Tell me about this war you're fighting," father said. And he did, starting from the messages received at the Eyrie, to the proclamation of the Mad King. He could not help but preen when father expressed his pride for Robert's victories at Summerhall.

"It was our wish—mine and your mother's—that our children would never have to see war and the horrors it brings. I certainly saw more than enough of it in the Maelys' invasion. Men who saw him said he was grotesque but the most terrible sight I saw in the campaign was my father's death."

"Grandfather died in your arms in that war, didn't he?" The previous Lord of the Stormlands simply gave a gum nod. Robert found himself in the odd position of having to comfort his father. He wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling but cheering up his friends was far easier than this.

"Stannis and Renly haven't seen war," Robert said, unsure of why it was a good thing to his father. From what he'd seen of war, it was even better than what the songs had led him to believe. "They are safe at Storm's End, at home."

Father rounded on him, his face furious. "Do you think a castle under siege is a safe place for a boy and a child? Are you that foolish or do you need me to knock some sense into you?"

If Robert could have drawn himself up in a defensive stance, he would've. But he had to keep on swimming, as father said. "There is no place safe in a war. The Tyrells would be fools to try to storm the castle and they will have provisions stored. Storm's End is impregnable, you told me so yourself!"

"But its people are not! Mace Tyrell has more than enough men to storm the castle and put your brothers to the sword. As for provisions, what would you know of their storage? When was the last time you went to the Stormlands to perform your duty as its Lord Paramount?"

Not since your funeral, he thought with shame. I left the work to Stannis and Maester Cressen since then. Feeling his cheeks turn red, Robert focused on his father's clothes for he could not meet his eyes. The moonstones studded on the doublet glinted, as if knowingly winking at him.

Father sighed, "I know what it feels like to want to be young and free, unshackled by responsibilities. But you are the Head of House Baratheon. You claim to be the king. You stopped being a boy the day you donned that crown. Be the man I would be proud to call my son."

"I don't know how," Robert whispered, hoping the truth in the words would fade if no-one heard them. "Even Ned was always better in what Jon said were a lord's important duties."

"I never knew you to give up if you failed at first. And you will have people to help you, but the crown rests on your head. You must listen to their advice and choose the right course yourself."

Their advice? "Only their advice? You will leave again when I wake up? Can't you stay and help me rule, father?" He asked, in a tone perilously close to pleading.

"I can only visit your dreams to guide you, Robert. Why will you need me?" Father looked at him, uncertain.

"I do need you! Even through dreams, I will treasure your counsel. Please, stay." Robert could not see father's face clearly while swimming along the current but he saw him waver. "Don't leave again. Your sons need you. I can't rule without you," he said, desperate not to lose his father again.

Father gave in. "Your mother was right, I can never resist spoiling you and your brothers. Very well, I will stay and help you."

Robert's grin at that was almost enough to split his face in half. "Will I see mother too?"

"What, are you bored of talking to your old man already?" Father affected a look of mock offense.

"You are right about the old part. It's a surprise you can ride so well, looking as ancient as Storm's End," Robert teased. Then he laughed as father's face changed from false offense to truly affronted. Then he ran for his life with his father riding him down. Well, swum for my life, he corrected himself, chuckling while trying to swim as fast as he could.

That was the last thought he remembered before waking up.

The maester bumbled into his tent, looking like he wanted to scold him for waking but was unsure of whether he could. He settled for a stern voice, but its shakiness betrayed his unease. "Your Grace, I—"

"Calm yourself, maester. I will not leave this tent if that's what has you so worried." The man left out a sigh of relief at that. Unwisely, for Robert was not finished. "But work must be done, in this tent if need be. Consider this an order of your king." His last words ended the protests of the grey-dressed man.

"Summon my lords for a council. We have a war to win."