Robert

The wine was going to his head. He could not help it. Trying to speak to the Lords of the North and feigning interest in politics was boring him and he found himself pouring goblet after goblet of wine, with the occasional mug of ale, wishing he was not at the high table. Since his father had died, people had expected a certain level of responsibility from him that he was not ready to indulge. He watched Brandon Stark enviously, two years older than him yet laughing merrily at the table with Elbert Arryn and flirting openly with Barbrey Ryswell. How he envied him, especially noticing how Lady Barbrey's teats looked ready to spill out of her bodice. He let his eyes wander to Lyanna and he had to stifle a laugh. Their Lord father allowed Benjen and Lyanna one cup of wine at the feast. She, however, had decided against this rule and was sneaking sips under the table while those around her continued to indulge her. She came up after a particularly long pull from Lady Barbrey's cup, her cheeks flushed and hair mused, laughing at a joke no one had told.

Ah, she has not learned how to hold her wine.

It was endearing, to say the least, and he was once more envious that he was not at the floor tables. Many of the girls had gotten up and begun to dance with many of the men following in suit, more likely than not hoping it would help their chances of having their beds warmed for the evening.

"Robert!" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head toward Jon Arryn who was looking at him impatiently.

"Sorry My Lords, I was just listening to the music," he said, knowing it was a weak excused. They had been discussing possibly betrothals for Ned. Robert felt it was useless. Ned was a second son, not likely to inherit much. It would be better for him to seek glory such as knighthood. If Robert had not loved girls so much, it would be what he chose. He had a lady waiting for him, however.

"What about the Dayne girl, I've heard she's quite lovely," suggested Rickard. Jon Arryn looked thoughtful at this suggestion before Greatjon Umber yelled out Cersei Lannister. Robert gave a booming laugh.

"I pity whomever marries the lioness. You don't marry the Lannister girl, you marry Lord Tywin and get to fuck the Lannister girl. I'd rather take the black than have to share my bed with both Tywin Lannister and his daughter." The table erupted in laughter at Robert's assessment but Jon Arryn glared at the almost empty again wine goblet in his hand.

He thinks I'm drunk. Damn it all, I'm the Lord of Storm's End, I can drink if I so please.

Robert stared back at him while reaching to refill his goblet once more in defiance. As he continued to gulp down his wine, his attention turned back toward Lyanna. She was dancing with Elbert, laughing happily, slightly unsteady on her feet. It was clear that while he may not have been drunk, she most certainly was. As Elbert spinned her and twirled her, she reached over and took another pull from Brandon's cup of wine. When she put the cup down, Elbert spun her back toward him and lifted her up, causing her to bust into laughter. Robert stared angrily at the Arryn heir, angry that he dare act in such a way with his betrothed. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was someone taking what belonged to him. He downed his entire goblet and filled it again.

"Robert," Ned said, putting his hand on Robert's shoulder, "It's all in fun." Ned knew him better than anyone. "She's known Elbert for years as one of Brandon's closest friends. Don't do something stupid on a whim."

"Aye, I'm just trying to have as much fun as they all seem to be having," Robert replied moodily. He wondered if he could sneak off later in the evening to a tavern or to one of the whorehouses nearby. That would do well to lift his mood. He knew he couldn't though, not tonight. Ned would never forgive him. He turned his attention to Lord Rickard and the other northern Lords.

"Rumors of King Aery's… quirks… have been coming in more frequently each passing month. Ever since Duskendale he's becoming increasingly unstable," Wyman Manderly said, between bites of his pie.

"It's enough for the dragon prince to become uneasy. He's been spending more and more time in Dragonstone, away from King's Landing. If that Dornish girl doesn't spread her legs more, its unlike that he will be able to produce an heir," added the Greatjon, "Although perhaps he finds her unappealing. I've heard she's sickly and was in a sickbed for months after the babe was born, he might find it difficult to bed her now. Imagine, being the prince and being unable to bed your wife."

"Aye," Jon Arryn agreed solemnly, "whispers of Aery's misdeeds have been reaching all over. Some are going so far as to name him the Mad King. It's been told he burns people over the slightest misdeeds. They claim he's obsessed with fire."

Robert listened, surprised. It was not like Jon Arryn to gossip. He listened more intensely, convinced that these rumors had bearing. However, the conversation was interrupted by a crash from the floor. He looked over and Lyanna was on the ground, covered in wine, giggling to herself. Lord Rickard face was stormy.

"It seems my daughter has had her fair share of fun. Ned, if you could escort her up to her chambers," he said, calmly but furiously.

"My Lord, if it please you, I will escort Lady Lyanna to her chambers. It only seems right for me to take car of my future Lady wife," Robert said, quickly hoping to jump on his chance. It might be that the girl would take to him more kindly while under the influence of fine wine. Lord Rickard looked wary at this suggestion, however, quite possibly having heard tale of Robert's indiscretions. Lord Rickard glanced at Jon Arryn, who was doing his best to hide his uncertainty at Robert's suggestion.

"Father, I think it's a good suggestion. He will soon be her husband, in charge of taking care of her when she is feeling… under the weather," said Ned, as always jumping to his defense. "I'm sure Robert will take good care of her." At his son's assurance, Lord Rickard seemed to ease greatly. It was second nature to trust Ned.

"Very well. My thanks Robert," Lord Rickard nodded.

"I shan't be gone long. I would hate to miss the rest of the feast," said Robert, thinking completely otherwise as he headed to the floor to escort his lady. When he reached her, she was standing although not quite good on her feet.

"Oh look everyone!" she laughed, "It's my future husband coming to take me away to waste in the south." Though her words were slurred, the malice behind them stung.

"No my lady, I'm escorting you to your chambers. I think you've had quite enough to drink."

"Ha, commanding me already, in my Lord fathers home?" she retorted defiantly. The defiance was weak, however, as she swayed unsteadily and fell. He moved quickly and caught her and that seemed to placate her. He took her arm and carefully guided her out of the hall, glancing behind him to see Lord Rickard looking at his daughter angrily.

"How many bastards do you have?" she asked demandingly. He sighed, unsure of how to proceed, although knowing she most likely would not remember this conversation on the morrow.

"My lady, that is neither here nor there. I am your betrothed now and my life is yours," he said, trying to assure her. She wasn't listening though. She had stopped dead in her tracks with an uneasy look on her face. "Lyanna?" She swayed for a moment then stumbled out of the door vomiting in the grass.

Seven hells.

When she was done, there were tears in her eyes and dirt on her dress.

"Why do I have to go with you? Why can't I stay with Ned and Brandon and Benjen? Why can't I marry Elbert, or the Tully boy so I can see my brothers more?" She looked completely deflated and Robert's heart sunk.

"I hope you'll love me one day," he said sadly, knowing she couldn't hear him over her own sadness. Her eyes looked heavy, and she looked as though she might fall again. With one sweep, Robert picked her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way to her chambers. By the time they reached the door, she had had fallen asleep. She seemed so small and fragile in her dream state, so unlike the fierce façade she had shown him all day. He carried her to her bed, and doing his best not too look at her body, did his best to get her out of her dress easily so she could sleep in her smallclothes. With one last look he shut the door and headed back to the feast, his mood darkened and his hopes vanquished.