A/N So, that happened. Life lesson, don't forget to check for errors on the Doc before adding it as a chapter. In my defense it was well past my bedtime when I decided to actually post last night. Additionally, I made an error in the last chapter. Nestor Royce was only names Keeper of the Gates of the Moon after the Rebellion with Denys holding the position at the time of Robert's return. I have updated chapter 3 accordingly.
Robert now remembered why he hated jousting. It was true that with his size and strength he could put enough power behind his lance to unhorse just about any man. The key however was actually hitting said rider and not being unhorsed himself. Jousting required an amount of agility and coordination that he easily managed while on foot, but that he struggled with atop a horse. He had been working at it for nearly an hour and much of the household had come to watch his feeble attempts at hitting the mark, alternating between shouting words of encouragement, advice, and mockery. Chief among his hecklers was Denys Arryn Keeper of the Gates of the Moon and the 'darling of the vale'.
"You know Robert, we can only laugh at your attempts so much before we grow concerned that the quintain is doing lasting damage to your already lacking mental capacity." Denys said with mock concern. Despite being just the kind of flashy knight that Robert had found annoying in his later life, he couldn't help but like the charismatic and jovial man. The young highborn men shared a love for fighting, merrymaking, and more recently doting on their children. Robert would be hard pressed to admit it, but he was a little jealous of the valeman. It seemed like Denys was an example of what Robert could have been if he had just been less impulsive, less headstrong, more willing to put in the effort into his marriage and family. It hurt thinking that in just a few years from now, if nothing changed, Denys, his wife, and his son would all be dead and buried. One more thing to add to the list of things he hoped to change. But right now, Robert was just tired of the jests.
"I'll show you damage to your mental capacity!" It was a weak comeback he knew, but Robert was tired and aching from riding so hard. His lungs were screaming in pain from the cold winter air he was taking down in deep gasps, and his charger was steaming with the effort of carrying Robert back and forth across the yard. Finally, Ned stepped in.
"Rob, perhaps you should give it a rest for now. You aren't going to be getting any better like this." Robert's pride told him to keep going just to show everyone that he was Robert fucking Baratheon and nobody told him what he should do. The rest of him thought better of it and so he slid off his horse and led it over to a waiting stable hand.
"You have potential you know," Denys said in an earnest tone, "even now you could probably unhorse the average knight with brute force alone. You never cared to really master the basics before, what is your interest in practicing so hard now?" Robert for his part just glared still sore over the previous mockery.
"He's doing it to impress my sister." Ned answered with a smirk. Robert couldn't help but feel a little betrayed in the moment. Denys looked at Robert with a knowing grin. Robert returned the grin with a scowl. Denys wisely didn't pursue the topic any further.
"Ah yes, well, like Eddard said, you should go rest. You aren't going to get any better by running yourself into the ground. Tomorrow we will start from scratch. If memory serves me correctly, you just learned the minimum and stopped after taking lessons after that. Tomorrow we'll start relearning the fundamentals." Denys said patting Robert on the shoulder.
"Thanks." Robert let out with a great sigh, trying his best to let go of his frustration without taking it out on his friend. It was far easier, and frankly more fun, to just focus on what you were good at, like smashing things with a hammer during a melee. But he had a plan, and that plan included unseating Rhaegar at Harrenhal. The same Rhaegar that had unhorsed Yohn Royce, Brandon Stark, Arthur Dayne, and Barristan Selmy during that damned tourney. Four accomplished riders, two of whom were considered to be the greatest knights of the age. Now he had less than a year to get good enough to defeat them. Robert threw himself to the ground after finally doffing his training plate and let out a groan. Shortly after Ned sat down next to him.
"You know, you don't need this to impress Lyanna. She's of the North and not taken with the southern fancies of tourneys and knights in shining armor. If you truly are committed to her and demonstrate it through honorable deeds and words, I am sure she will come to love you."
"I'm sure you're right Ned. You're always right." Robert said after a few moments of silence. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm going to figure this out and become champion of the tourney." He stood up and brushed himself down before offering a hand to Eddard. "Come on, let's get inside before we freeze our balls off out here. I'm going to have the servants warm a nice bath so I can relax. You can go brood and stare of into the distance thinking of snow or whatever it is you do when I'm not around." He said with a smile. Ned for his part let out a long suffering sigh and started walking with Robert back to the keep.
And so, their last few days at the Gates of the Moon passed without much more fanfare. Robert established a solid routine. In the morning he would wake up early to break his fast and train in the yard, sparing with the men and even helping young Elbert Arryn with his swordsmanship. Afterwards he would spend time with Jon especially when the venerable lord was holding court. Robert did his best to pay attention and learn all he could, but even knowing he had a mandate from the gods could not make it any less of a chore to stay awake. None the less Jon was impressed and proud of his improved effort. In the afternoon he would spend time with Mya, and even developed a respectful relationship with Piper. They might consider themselves friends if it wasn't so wildly inappropriate for two people of such different stations. Rumors had spread that she now had a massive, by small folk standards, dowry to her name, and men were now starting to look her way. Robert laughed when he had heard this and told Piper to let him know if any creepy old men started talking her up for her money, he would set them straight. After what he eventually started calling 'Papa-daughter' time he would head back to the yard to work on his jousting skills under the tutelage of Denys Arryn. He was making progress, or so his friends told him, but he wasn't happy with how far he still had to go. Finally in the evenings he would spend as much time with as he could with his friends enjoying the new lease on life he had. So many of the people around him had died during the rebellion, and he wouldn't miss this opportunity to enjoy their company once again. They sang, told stories, japed, and laughed together long into the night. He did however do best to limit his drinking however, no need to start back down that path.
Despite his long days, he found little rest at night. Vivid dreams of past mistakes and of terrible tragedies befalling his friends and family made it difficult to sleep through the night. One of the worst he experienced was when he found himself staring up at the great Sept of Baelor, where on the steps knelt a haggard and weak looking Eddard. The crowd around him shouted all manor of insults and accusations of treason. Ilyn Payne stood by with the Stark ancestral sword Ice in hand. Robert was paralyzed unable to look away as he heard a familiar voice call out over the roar of the crowd. "Bring me his head!" The king's executioner did his work and Robert awoke screaming as the valyrian steel blade sliced through his best friend's neck. It had taken him some time and more than a little wine to recover from that horrible vision.
On the third night after his return, after a particularly jarring nightmare concerning Renly being slain by a shadow, he eventually gave up on sleeping and got out of bed. Donning a heavy cloak to protect from the winter chill, he hoped a walk around the grounds of the castle would calm his nerves. As he walked mindlessly around the castle, he eventually found himself in front of the sept. It was far from the most ostentatious of all the septs in Westeros, but the Arryn's of the past who built the Gates were not so poor that they would let their sept be anything but well appointed. It was constructed with the same marble brought in to build the Eyrie above, and they had a stain glass seven-pointed star facing southwest towards the Starry Sept in Old Town. As he entered, the building was dimly lit by a few braziers burring low, as well as a few dozen candles lit at the bases of the statues of the seven. The statues themselves were works of art showing the skill of the sculptor's hand. They were done in exquisite detail, but for all the maker's craftsmanship, they couldn't do the real seven justice. Robert had never cared for the pomp and circumstance that went into worshiping the seven, but having stood in the presence of gods, he couldn't help but feel like he should take it a bit more seriously. He found some unlit candles that were available for petitioners, grabbed a few, and knelt before the closet statue, that of the Maiden. Lighting the candle, he began to speak what was on his mind.
"I, uh, I never cared to learn how to do this properly. But given the circumstances I figured I aught to do something. First, I want to thank you for showing me how I had done wrong by so many women. I mean I thought that since I left them satisfied that everything was square. I didn't realize the potential pain I was leaving behind. Please bless my pursuit of Lyanna. Help me win her heart in a way that honors her and you."
He stood up and walked over to the crone, lit a second candle, and continued
"Thank you for opening my eyes to how much of a fool I was, please help me to act wisely in the days to come and keep my pride in check."
Standing once again he moved to the warrior and lit another candle.
"So, you seemed pretty proud of how I fought in the Rebellion but I'm having a pretty tough time getting this jousting thing down. If you could help with those efforts, I'd be very grateful."
Finally, he went to the statue of the Mother.
"I, uh, keep having dreams of terrible things. They are so real and vivid that it is sometimes hard to tell that I am dreaming. Please protect me while I sleep, I don't know how long I will be able to go on before being driven mad."
Robert sighed deeply and stood. He was ready to leave the place when he passed the statue of the stranger. It looked the least like its divine inspiration. Frankly Robert was glad for it. He shuddered at the memory of the terrifying visage of the stranger and the scar on his belly itched slightly. He couldn't help the anger bubbling up.
"And you are a right bastard. Was it really necessary for me to wake up covered in blood? Are you an asshole to everyone or am I special because slipped out of your grasp?" Robert stopped when he heard a tentative cough behind him.
"Excuse me my lord Baratheon, but I feel compelled to point out that it is considered a sin to profane an aspect of the seven. I understand anger towards the Stranger, many do not understand its role in this world. Perhaps a prayer to the Mother should be offered for atonement?" Robert spun around, startled at the voice. He saw a man dressed in septon's robes carrying a candle for light. He didn't look to be much older than Robert and had a kind if not nervous look on his face. He had an accent that was clearly not of the Vale, but Robert couldn't quite place.
"How much of that did you hear?" Robert asked, hoping for the best.
"Not much my lord, I assume this has to do with the rumors going around the castle about the state you were found in not six days ago." The septon replied trying his best not to show how uncomfortable he was with this interaction.
"Right, right." Robert moved to get another candle when he finally placed the accent. "Your accent, are you from the North? I thought they worshiped the old gods there." The septon let out a barely perceptible sigh.
"I hail from White Harbor my lord, where fortunately the light of the seven shines amidst the darkness of the old gods." It sounded like a line he had repeated often in his life. Seizing the chance to change the topic, Robert pressed on.
"Oh, kin to the Manderlys?"
"Of a sort, my lord" His tone indicated that he did not want the conversation to continue down this path. Robert ignored it.
"Of a sort? You're either kin or you aren't."
"Apologies my lord, allow me to introduce myself. Cedric Snow at your service. I joined the faith and was educated in Oldtown so that I might find forgiveness for my birth and overcome my base nature." His tone was resigned. Robert simultaneously felt bad for the man and angry at him.
"You joined the faith to atone for being born a bastard?" Robert almost yelled.
"Well, uh, my lord," The septon was clearly uncomfortable, "You know what is taught about bastards."
"If you are about to tell me that my little Mya is wanton and treacherous by nature, I recommend that you choose your words wisely." Robert said coldly. But something in Cedric's eyes caused the growing anger to cool. "The world has not been kind to you, has it?"
"It is my burden to bear, my lord." The septon said with as much resolve as he could. But Robert could still here the sorrow in his voice.
"I would like to learn more about the faith please Septon." Cedric brightened up at the possibility of the topic changing. Robert continued, "Where exactly in the Seven-Pointed Star does it say that bastards themselves are evil?"
"My lord?" Cedric replied more than a little confused.
"You see yesterday I tried to read through the Seven-Pointed Start to learn what the seven have to say about those born out of wedlock. Now I am no scholar, hell it took me all morning just to skim through the books of the Maiden and Mother, my eyes kept glossing over and I swear I read the same passage 5 times. Regardless, nothing stood out to me other than the teaching that married men and women must stay faithful to each other until death."
"Ah, I see my lord. The teaching itself comes from the Book of Septons. It is the record of official dictates of High Septons past. In 198 AC the High Septon proclaimed that the seven saw all bastards as sinners from conception who must submit themselves to the seven in order to be saved from their inherent nature. He did reference that particular passage you noted in his sermon."
"Hmm, and since the High Septon is the mouthpiece of the seven, what he says goes I assume? I wonder what they would think of his speech." Robert said gesturing to the statues.
"We cannot deign to know the intentions of our god. Their thoughts are not our thoughts, and their ways are not our ways." Robert did his best to hold back a short laugh. He couldn't help but feel like he had firsthand knowledge of that.
"You are right of course." If he knew what the gods were thinking when they sent him here it would have made things much easier. But something nagged at him. "198 you say? Isn't that a year after the first Blackfyre rebellion started? Don't you find it odd that bastards would become officially unholy after the worst war since the dance was caused by one?"
"It isn't our place to question the words of the High Septon, my lord." The young septon replied obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. Robert for his part was getting a headache. He had read that blasted book because he was afraid for his little Mya, and now he finds out that she is a religious outcast because of politics.
"Right, well you don't seem particularly lecherous or untrustworthy to me. I am sure that the Mother showed you her mercy long ago and has forgiven you of something that a wretched old man put in her mouth. Thank you for humoring me. I've got a lot more questions about the faith, so you'll probably see me again." Cedric gaped unsure of how to respond to the compliment, gratitude, and borderline heresy. Robert simply nodded, mumbled a quick prayer to the statue of the Mother, and walked out of the sept.
Robert did feel better after his supplication, as if the time spent in prayer brought peace to his troubled heart. He supposed that knowing there was an actual person he was praying to made quite a difference. That knowledge infuriated him as well, especially since everything he knew about the faith has been filtered through thousands of years of holy men's words and preaching. He wished he could see them again and talk to them, ask them all the questions that rattled around in his mind. He shrugged the thought off and went back to his chambers to sleep. He once again had the nightmares, but this time they felt muted, less intense, less real, as he was viewing them through a filter, rather than as if he was there in person. He woke up far more refreshed than he had the past few days and whispered a quick thanks before starting on his routine.