Robert's aches and pains were mostly forgotten as he frantically checked his stomach where the Stranger had apparently seen fit to reopen the wound that killed him in the first place. But as he checked his abdomen, he only found a jagged white line of scar tissue. Well, the scar and muscles he hadn't seen in almost over a decade. After a minute or two of checking himself over to make sure that there was no actual injury, he heard echoes of worried voices and hurried footsteps coming from the hallway outside his room. Panicking and not wanting to explain why his night shirt was covered in blood, he had an idea. Most likely not one of his best, but it probably didn't rank anywhere near the top of the list of his worst. He frantically smeared as much of the tacky drying blood under his nose and over his mouth as he could, and in order to truly sell it, he took a deep breath, faced the wall, and drove his face as hard as he dared into it. The aches and pains he had felt the bloomed once again, groaning he fell back onto his bed with fresh blood now pouring from his nose.
He laid there wondering why he didn't just tell the gods to shove it and to leave him to burn in the lowest of the seven hells instead. A few moments later he looked up to see three figures enter the room: a young Eddard Stark, who Robert struggled to reconcile with the man who had to his mind just taken his last will and testament; Jon Arryn, who frankly looked old even by the time he was fostered here; and a grey-haired man who was obviously a maester, he seriously struggled to remember the man's name.
"Robert! What in the seven hells happened here?" His foster father nearly yelled as the men took in Robert's bloodied form.
"Uh, I think I hit my nose?" It left Robert's mouth as part groan and part question. The maester was the first to overcome his shock at the bloody scene and moved to inspect Robert's face.
"Robert, I knew you had had quite a few last night, but I didn't think you were so deep in your cups." Ned said in an even tone, but Robert knew his friend well and could see the mirth gleam in his grey eyes. Frankly it warmed Robert's heart seeing innocence in those eyes again, innocence that had been snuffed out in a future filled with so much suffering. Suffering that, by the gods old and new, he would prevent. But before he could do that, he would have to overcome what felt like the biggest hangover he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
"It's not broken, but it is enflamed and still bleeding. The blood on your clothes seems much older, however. Do you remember anything from last night?" asked the maester as he turned Robert's head back and forth causing him to wince in pain.
"Uh, I uh, must have… uh, hit my nose as I stumbled into my room after drinking last night and passed out. When the servant screamed, it… I suppose it startled me awake. I fell out of bed and, uh, hit it again." Robert was quite proud of that excuse however poorly delivered it was; he was never great with improvising lies. The muted snort that came from Ned made him smirk a little, happy that his best friend could at least find some joy in the moment.
"Right, don't I look quite the mess. It must be hilarious." Robert tried following it up with a laugh but it came out as a pained wheeze instead. When he looked over at his foster father and mentor, he saw an all too familiar look. It was the face he saw when he had yet again disappointed the man who had practically raised him. Robert frowned; Jon had no idea just how much of a disappointment he had become in the end. Shame and sorrow began to well up in his heart, and he tried his best to tamp it down. He watched as the old man sighed moved forward and put his hand on his shoulder.
"I am glad you didn't drown in your own blood last night. You are a man, grown and strong, Robert; you should be more responsible than this. Soon you will need to be wed and take your seat at Storm's End." Jon paused for a moment, and Robert guessed why. When he was young, and frankly even when he was king sometimes, this would have been the part of the conversation where he would waive the old man off and make some crude jape, and if they were both up for it have a bit of a yelling match. But now he was determined to soak up every lesson he could while Jon was still with him.
"You're not wrong Jon, maybe I'll actually learn my lesson this time." This got varying reactions from the men in the room. Jon looked surprised, but also proud in a way that made Robert forget his aches in pains for a moment. Ned's brow furrowed and his mouth opened little before he turned to the maester who was beginning to work on Robert's nose.
"Maester Aiden, do check if he has any lingering damage to his brain from the repeated blows to his head. My dear friend doesn't seem to be himself." Robert would have laughed, but the maester was currently stuffing his nose with linen strips to soak up the blood.
"Very funny," Robert replied in a nasally tone once the maester was done with his work. "Like Jon said, I'm a grown man and a Lord. It's about time that got stuck in my thick skull." His best friend just gave him a disbelieving look. Frustrated, Robert continued. "Damnit Ned, is it too hard to believe that I had an epiphany after a day of drinking ended with me waking up covered in my own blood?"
"Frankly Robert, it is quite a stretch." Eddard replied with a chuckle, even Jon was sporting a teasing smile now. Robert couldn't help the bright smile caused by the feeling of kinship he had with these men.
"Bah, I'm fine, let me make myself presentable and dress in peace so that we can break our fast and forget that this ever happened." he said while waiving them towards the door.
"We broke our fast hours ago Robert. It is nearly mid-day. That was the fifth servant sent to rouse you, and the only one brave enough to enter without your leave." Eddard replied.
"Ah, well then, let me get ready in peace so we can have our mid-day meal together." The men nodded in affirmation before leaving the former king alone in his chambers.
Once the door had closed, Robert let out a long sigh and fell back into his bed, his body reminding him that it was not particularly happy with the current state of affairs. He only stirred again after a different servant knocked and asked permission to bring in a basin of warm water. Mentally thanking Jon for being so thoughtful, he lifted himself out of bed and cleaned off the by now dried blood as best he could. Afterwards, and with much groaning, he went through all of the stretches he had learned as a young man. Ones he realized that he couldn't have hoped to do as the fat king he became. Eventually he got to the point where he could walk around without every muscle protesting. He stripped out of his ruined night shirt and went to the looking glass to stare at his younger body. It was both pleasant and disconcerting at the same time, as the clean shaven boy was nothing like the fat slob of a man he had grown accustomed to seeing in the looking glass. He studied the jagged scar on his stomach now that he had a better view of it. It ran from the left side of his hip, across his midsection, and up to just below his right pectoral. Memories of the boar and of the Stranger's touch flashed through his mind, and he understood what the god had meant. Perhaps if he had just awoken here, in this fresh young body, he could convince himself that it was all a bad dream. That all the horrors he had witnessed and condoned were naught but vivid nightmares. He was talented at closing his eyes at things he would rather not see after all. But this scar was truly a reminder of why he was here. He would not forget.
With this affirmation, he pulled on a new silk undershirt and a well-made pair of trousers before grabbing his favorite black velvet doublet embroidered with a golden stag. He let out a self-effacing chuckle when he realized that it had been years since he could get dressed without the aid of one or two servants. Leaving his chambers to head for the high hall, he quickly realized that he was not, in fact, in the Eyrie, but the Gates. This realization plus the cold seeping in from the shuttered windows told him that winter must have already settled on the land, and the Arryn court had already relocated for the season. He remembered from his previous lifetime that this particular winter had started rather mildly but was truly terrible once the rebellion had reached its crescendo. That meant that the he had awoken in 280 AC, the year where everything started going wrong. A flood of emotions overtook him. Nostalgia, excitement, apprehension? Perhaps none of those, perhaps all of them. Death hadn't suddenly gifted him the ability to easily rationalize complex emotion. Honestly, anything more complex than joy, lust, or anger made his head hurt. He knew he had to do better, but that didn't exactly make it any easier. He was eventually stopped by a comely serving girl who bowed and gave him a knowing smile.
"Good day m'lord, Lord Arryn and Lord Stark send word that they are taking their meal in the lord's solar now. They ask that you join them when you are feeling able. Are you feeling able m'lord?" There was a twinkle in her eye when she coyly asked the question that would have had young Robert picking up the girl and quickly returning to his room for some afternoon fun. Now it just made him angry, even more so because of how his younger body had so eagerly reacted to it. This was exactly the thing that drove Lyanna away, his utter lack of self control when it came to the fairer sex. Part of him wanted to yell and strike her for daring to assume such things of him, but the Maiden's words echoed in his head, and he tamped down the temptation.
"Yes, I will go meet them now. Thank you for bringing the word." He delivered the words as cool and polite as he could. He noticed her smile fade slightly as she bowed again.
"It is a pleasure to serve m'lord."
Robert turned and walked briskly for the solar trying his best to forget the interaction. When he arrived and knocked on the door, he heard Jon's voice beckoning him in from inside. He opened the door and saw his true family once again before him, lifting his sour mood. They were looking over various documents as they ate but greeted him as he entered.
"It's good to see you up and about Robert, no lasting effects from your accident?" asked Jon in a warm tone. Robert had to stifle a guffaw, if only his foster father new the true extent of his accident. But it wasn't like he could simply sit down and tell them that he had di been sent back by the gods after his death in order to save them from the long night. Well, he could, but he did not imagine it going over particularly smooth.
"No, lasting effects except for the possibility of me finally finding some humility." A simple look from Ned communicated his doubt about it. Robert brushed it off and sat down to start on a plate of food that had been prepared for him.
"We got some interesting news this morning Rob," Ned said conversationally, "Looks like Lord Whent is planning on hosting the greatest tourney of our age just to celebrate his daughter's name day."
Robert's mind came to a screeching halt at the revelation. Less than a year, he had less than a year to get things sorted out. To stop Rhaegar from plunging the realm into war. He vaguely remembered some rumors after he had been crowned that Rhaegar was the one who funded the tourney in the first place. The he meant to meet with the various lords paramount so they could force his father to abdicate. He took no stock in those rumors at the time, since that would mean giving some form of credit to the raping bastard. Maybe if he could keep Rhaegar away from Lyanna, the prince could stay focused on the conspiracy and there wouldn't be a war at all. Now he just needed to figure out how to put his plan into action.
So lost in his plans for the upcoming Tourney, It took Robert a moment to realize that Ned was still talking. "… and so, I'll be leaving in a sennight. What are your plans?" Robert had stopped listening immediately after he had mentioned Harrenhal. He took a moment to try and remember this conversation from those years ago so that he wouldn't look like he had completely lost track of what his friend was saying, but eventually he gave up and replied.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" He thought he sounded as apologetic as possible, but still got an annoyed look from the northerner.
"Gods, you'd think you would pay more attention when we are discussing your future. I was talking to you about the plans for your betrothal to Lyanna."
"Yes!" Robert exclaimed. He was able to remember what Ned must have been talking about. "Right, so with the tourney coming up you plan to head north and speak to your father on my behalf first before heading south with the rest of your family."
"So, you were listening." Jon drawled sardonically as he continued to pen a letter of some sort.
"I reckoned it would go over better if I spoke to my father in person about it. Preparations are being made for me to go north, and as I said I'll be leaving in about a sennight's time. If all goes well, you can meet your betrothed at Harrenhal." There were a few moments of silence as Robert processed everything. A smile creeping onto his face.
"That's a great idea!" he boomed causing Jon and Eddard to flinch a little, despite how used they were very used to Robert's outbursts by now.
"It's hardly groundbreaking for me to go home Rob." Ned said, slightly annoyed and confused at his friend's enthusiastic response.
"No, not that Ned! Going in person! I'll go with you and woo your sister so that she will practically beg your father for the betrothal." Robert's smile faltered as he saw how Ned's knuckles went white as he clenched his fist.
"Robert, my sister isn't some tavern wench for you to woo and bed. We both agree it would be nice to be brothers more than in heart, but if you dishonor my sister before your vows…" Ned stopped and took several deep breaths trying to calm himself. Jon had stopped writing and was watching the young men closely ready to step in if need be. This was a side of Eddard rarely seen. He may have been known as the quiet wolf, but he was a wolf none the less.
"Gods Ned, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just…I know..." Robert gesticulated wildly as he fumbled fumbled for the right words. "I've come to realize that I have a certain reputation. Seven Hells, I brought Mya into this world. I know that it is high time for me to put all of that behind me. I feel like I already know your sister from all of the tales you have told me of her., but she doesn't know me other than what word travels North along the King's Road. So, I would like the chance to court her properly and perhaps win her over on my own charms rather than on your word alone." At this Jon spoke up, his voice laced with more than a little pride.
"That's quite a take on the situation my boy, and it is an honorable sentiment. I'll inform the servants to begin preparations for your departure as well."
Ned was still a little speechless, obviously not really knowing how to respond to this new responsible Robert. Ned eventually shook his head and let out a little chuckle.
"Mayhap I should have slammed your face into the wall a while ago. It seems to have done you some good." Robert's booming laugh filled the room in response
"And ruin this handsome face in the process? Gods forbid! Now, hurry up and finish your meal. We've got plenty to do."
"Oh?" Ned asked.
"Yes, if I'm going to be a good husband and lord, I can start by being a good father. So, were going to spend time with little Mya first. I'll be gone for several moons, and I don't want her to forget who I am. After that we are going to the tilts."
"The tilts? You hate jousting." Ned said once again confused.
"Yes, I absolutely do," Robert grimaced, "but I am not going to crown Lyanna as Queen of Love and Beauty by being a shit jouster." Robert's grimace turned into a conspiratorial grin, and he finished his food as fast as he could.
A/N: Thank you for all the supportive comments and interest in this story! As for the suggestions and questions regarding characters, remember that the old gods said that not all fates could be changed. Ultimately I'm a big softy and I haven't decided just how much tragedy I can handle writing, and therefore haven't nailed down exactly how certain events will play out.