"Find a bride for my son, cousin. He has no sister to wed." That had been the mission, commanded by a king.
"I grieve for them," the prince had said, to the sons of Steffon and Cassana Baratheon, his eyes indeed, full of grief. The poor, melancholic prince, people had said. His life besieged by tragedy, from the day he was born, during the great fire at Summerhall.
"He is beloved, the stuff of songs and stories. Why shouldn't our parents' death be appropriated as his tragedy too? His great sorrow," Stannis had replied to Robert's complaints. Robert had been surprised, and angry. Stannis had not been. How could you be surprised, or angry, at something you knew would happen in the first place?
How beloved would he still be if people knew? That he had contemplated breaking his vows to his wife?
Probably more beloved. The figure of romance to many, Stannis scoffed. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he disliked most people. Their foolish notions and trivial pursuits and frivolous concerns.
Rhaegar Targaryen seemed to be the furthest thing from the Stark brothers' minds.
"Lyanna would have wielded a sword, if Father would have let her," Ned had told Stannis.
"Father!" Brandon had scoffed. "Even our lord Father could not change the way of the world for his daughter. Women do not fight."
"The Mormont women do. They fight to protect their homes and lands from the Ironborn," Benjen had said. "And anyway, Lya was always a better swordsman than you. And a better rider. You're just jealous, Brandon."
"Better than me? I don't think so. But certainly better than you," Brandon had replied. "And probably better than you, Stannis."
The brotherly banter was beyond Stannis. He had listened in silence, his eyes darting from one brother to another. Had wondered too if Robert had joined in on the banter, on the occasions when he had met all three Stark brothers. Or if Robert had felt out of place, his brotherhood with Ned a thing in its own right, not expansive enough to encompass all the Stark brothers.
Or Robert's own brothers.
"Promise me our children will never be fostered, and separated from one another," Lyanna had whispered in his ear, late one night. He had pretended to be asleep. He had not promised her that.
He wondered now, after listening to her brothers' words, what her dreams had been about. Before she was a wife. Before she was a wife who had to extract a promise from her husband about their future children.
He wondered too, if Rhaegar Targaryen had promised her anything.
He was left alone with Ned Stark when Brandon got up to look for his wife, and Benjen was summoned by his father. A still-grieving Ned Stark, from the look and sound of it. Grieving for the man who was not really a brother, a man who had real brothers of his own.
Except they were brothers, in all the ways that mattered, Stannis knew. Ned and Robert. In all the ways that really counted. He did not doubt the sincerity of Ned's grief for Robert, just as he had not doubted the sincerity of Rhaegar Targaryen's grief for his parents, years ago.
Not doubting their sincerity, however, did not make him like them any better.
"There is a delicate matter I wish to speak to you about, Stannis." Ned's voice was uncertain.
"Regarding?"
"Robert. Well ... a … a … child of his. In the Vale."
"You mean his bastard?" Stannis was not mincing words.
Ned flinched at the word 'bastard', before continuing. "His daughter. Mya. Mya Stone. Robert … was very fond of her. He visited her from time to time, playing with her. No doubt if he had lived, he would have made further arrangements regarding her future."
"Did he acknowledge this child as his bastard?"
"Yes, he did, to me. And it is …well, it is common knowledge at the Vale, who this child's father is. She looks so like him. The hair. The eyes." Ned had a faraway look in his eyes.
"And what is it that you wish for me to do?"
"For this child to be taken care of. Robert would have wanted that."
Stannis did not share Ned's certainty about what Robert would have wanted. Or would have done, had he lived.
"The child will be provided for. House Baratheon does not shirk our duty, even to baseborn children. But she must remain at the Vale," Stannis replied.
"Of course." Ned looked taken aback. "I was not suggesting that she should be brought to Storm's End. Not at all."
Stannis wondered if Lyanna had known. He doubted that Ned had told her.
But would Ned have told her, if she had asked?
Even the closest people held secrets from one another. Lyanna had not told even Ned, her closest brother, about Rhaegar Targaryen. What secrets would Ned have kept from his sister, for Robert's sake?
"Is Renly well?" Ned asked suddenly.
"Yes," Stannis replied stiffly.
"Not … missing his brother?"
"Children recover quickly. And Robert was not often home." He did not regret the bluntness of his words.
Ned did not speak of Robert again after that. They stayed silent for a while, before talking about the coming tourney. Brandon and Benjen would be fighting, but not Ned. And not Stannis.
And not Rhaegar Targaryen. Not at the tourney celebrating his own nameday.
Later in the day, when they caught sight of the Crown Prince striding through the field, and their eyes followed him carefully as he made his way to the raised dais, Stannis wondered if contrary to Lyanna's belief, Ned had known something after all. Or had suspected something, at least.
Their eyes met across the table, Stannis' and Ned's, after Rhaegar Targaryen finally found his seat. Next to his wife. Ned was the first to look away.