Robert ignored the cries of surprise and distress as he urged his mount into a quick trot towards the Stark's tent through the crowded grounds of the castle. As soon as he arrived, he jumped off his horse and called out,
"Ned! You in there?"
It took a few moments, but eventually a confused Eddard Stark pulled open the flap of the tent and was immediately grabbed into Robert's enthusiastic embrace. "Ned! Gods dammit, it's good to see you!" Robert roared. After the surprise faded, Eddard eventually returned the embrace and let out a chuckle.
"It's good to see you too, but it's only been a few moons."
"Yeah, and it felt like years. Now, where's Lyanna?"
"Oh, I see; years of friendship, and now I've been replaced by my sister?" Ned replied with mock hurt in his voice and a slight grin.
"Ha! We've got plenty of time to catch up. I just wanted to see my dearest betrothed," Robert replied jovially.
"Well, she left not too long ago with Benjen. They wanted to go see the Harrenhal godswood; they say it is the largest in the south."
Robert looked up towards the massive stone ruins and grimaced.
"Apparently everything is bigger here."
It was at this point that Eddard's elder brother made his presence known.
"Lord Baratheon," the elder Stark said with a formal tone.
"Lord Brandon," Robert returned in a friendlier tone. Robert had put some thought into it and wanted to make sure he put any bad blood with the Wild Wolf behind him. "I hope you had a good journey south."
"It wasn't unpleasant," Brandon responded in a bored tone. Despite his desire to mend fences with his future good brother, Robert got the feeling he wasn't going to make any progress with the heir of Winterfell at the moment.
"Well, I think Ned and I will go track down that sister of yours." His charming smile was returned by a dismissive nod. As Brandon retreated back into the tent, Robert turned to Eddard. "Let's go, Ned."
"Sure, I'm sure she'll be excited to see you. She's mentioned you once or twice since we left home," Ned replied casually.
Robert couldn't keep a wide smile off his face as he took his horse's reins in hand and followed his third brother towards the Harrenhal godswood. Robert proudly listed off his accomplishments as lord of Storm's End while they walked, and Eddard listened quietly just like he had when they were growing up in the Vale. As Robert was halfway through sharing a tale of how he handled a particular squabble between his bannermen, they heard a feminine voice yelling out not too far ahead of them.
"That's my father's bannermen!"
Immediately the two young lords realized they had found Lyanna and sprinted towards the sound of the commotion. When they rounded a tent blocking their view, they saw Lyanna wielding a tourney sword laying into a group of young squires who were gathered around another man lying on the ground while young Benjen watched wide-eyed. By the time Robert and Eddard arrived, Lyanna had chased off the boys and was slinging insults at their retreating forms. Robert was shocked; had this happened the last time around? If so, why hadn't Ned told him about it? Regardless of the answers, he couldn't help but stare at his betrothed. She was red in the face with anger and exertion and was gripping the sword so hard her knuckles had turned white. The simple northern braid she had been sporting had come undone and her hair hung down wildly behind her. Robert couldn't help but admire her warrior woman aesthetic for a few moments. Eventually, Ned, the sensible member of their duo, spoke up,
"Lyanna, what just happened."
She spun around and pointed the sword at them as if expecting another attacker. When she realized who was standing before her, her eyes grew wide in surprise and embarrassment before her anger returned.
"Ned! Robert! Did you see those boys?" She waved the tourney sword wildly in the direction the young men had scampered off in. "They were attacking one of father's bannermen!" As soon as the words left her mouth, realization set in, and she dropped the sword running over to the side of the small man lying on the ground groaning. Robert and Eddard immediately recognized the man.
"Howland?" Robert called out rushing over to his side as well. The crannogman had gotten quite a beating from the young men who, even though they were younger, still had nearly half a head on the future Lord of the Neck. Hearing his name the young Lord Reed focused his gaze on Robert.
"Your grace?" he said weakly.
"I think you've had your wits knocked out of you Howland; I'm no king," Robert said jovially, trying his best to hide a grimace at the use of the hated honorific. "Come on, let's get you taken care of." Robert carefully picked the diminutive young man up off the ground.
"We can take him to our tent," Lyanna spoke up. "Father insisted that we bring Maester Walys with us in case Brandon got hurt during the joust."
"Please, put me down. I can walk there on my own," Howland hissed in pain.
"You sure?" Robert asked as he slowly let Howland down.
"I've already been beaten by a pack of southron boys; I don't think my pride can handle being carried like a child," he replied, trying to smile through his aches and pains.
"Ha, how about I just keep you from falling over then?" Robert replied, keeping a hand on Howland's shoulder. He just received a nod in response and they started making their way back to the Stark's tent. As they made the journey back to the tent, Lyanna was unusually quiet. Robert noticed her biting her lip nervously as she looked over at him from time to time. From the defiance in her eyes, Robert could guess that she was just barely keeping herself from saying something unladylike.
"By all means, my lady, please speak your mind," Robert said with a charming grin.
"I won't apologize," she said firmly. Robert couldn't help but let out a laugh.
"For what? Your terrible form? Whoever's been teaching you is letting you away with far too many bad habits." Robert watched as Lyanna's face went through a bevy of emotions.
"No, for not acting like a lady. And what do you mean terrible form? I beat Benjen all the time," she replied angrily
"No offense to your younger brother, but it speaks more poorly of him than anything else." Robert turned to look at the youngest Stark and saw that he had gone red in the face. Turning back to Lyanna he continued, "Either learn to fight properly, or leave it to the men."
"Oh, and who is going to teach me: you?" she responded, her tone sharp.
"Lyanna…" Eddard was about to launch into a scolding, but was cut off by Robert.
"I don't see why not. Of course, it'll have to be after we're married. I'd rather not risk your father's ire until you are under my cloak and authority," he said with a charming grin.
"Robert, don't encourage her," Ned said with exasperation.
"Oh, come on Ned. You know she'd be happier with a sword in hand rather than a stitching needle," Robert said jovially. He smiled at Lyanna expecting some form of support from her, but her face told him that he had said something that upset her. He was about to say something about it, but she quickly recovered and preempted him by smiling and patting Howland on the shoulder.
"Come now boys, enough of this; let's make sure Lord Reed is taken care of." Her words were warm and caring, but then her demeanor changed, and her next words were as cold as ice. "Then we'll discuss how to make sure justice is seen for this attack."
After her words, the rest of their trip back to the Stark's tent was made in silence as both Eddard and Robert had no desire to rouse her ire. As soon as they entered the tent, Lyanna called for Maester Walys. When the healer saw the state of the young crannogman, he immediately got to work. Brandon, who had come to see what the commotion was all about, stopped when he saw the state of Lord Reed.
"What in all the hells happened?" He looked at Robert, his voice held tones of honest confusion and rising anger. It was Lyanna who responded.
"I found some southron boys attacking our father's man and drove them off. This is unacceptable, Brandon; you have to do something about it!" Lyanna seethed. Brandon's hackles rose as the tale of it stoked his own wolf's blood.
"Tell me, Lord Reed, who are these boys that would dare attack a Northern Lord?" Brandon's voice was low and hard.
"I don't know, my Lord. They weren't wearing their colors when they approached me. Please, my Lord and Lady, you need not involve yourselves," he answered. Based on his stance, Brandon was still angry but wasn't willing to press the issue. Lyanna, however, was not deterred.
"Well, they might be at the welcome feast tonight. If you see them, you can point them out to us."
"Ah, I was not intending to attend the feast," Howland said humbly as the maester finished bandaging his injuries.
"What! You're just as noble as anyone here!" Lyanna exclaimed, "No, you will join us and the other northern lords tonight."
Howland looked as if he was going to protest when he was interrupted by Robert putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't think you should argue with Lyanna over this my friend." His voice held a tone of playfulness, and Howland simply nodded in defeat. Robert vaguely remembered the small Lord Reed being at the feast in the last time through, but he also remembered being blisteringly drunk after that drinking contest with Ser Lonmouth. Perhaps he should avoid being goaded into that again. Turning to Lyanna, he continued,
"I was hoping we could spend some time together; I've missed our rides," Robert said with a fond tone.
"Ah, well perhaps now is not a good time Lord Robert," Lyanna replied in a much more formal tone than he remembered her using when last they saw each other. "The feast is not too far off, and I have to make sure Lord Reed here is ready to join us."
"Ah," Robert couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. "Well then, I hope you will give me the honor of allowing me your hand for the first dance of the night."
"Of course, Lord Robert," she replied with a polite smile. Robert stood there a moment not wanting to leave before eventually giving a quick bow, bidding the rest of the Starks farewell and leaving the tent. Mounting his horse, he made his way to where his brother and entourage were still setting up their own accommodations.
"I thought we wouldn't see you till the feast," Stannis called out as Robert approached.
"Shit happened," Robert said dismissively. "Anyway, are the baths ready? I don't want to smell like dust and sweaty horse when I dance with Lyanna tonight."
"Fortunately, the servants prioritized getting the baths ready," Stannis replied in his usual matter of fact tone. Robert nodded and proceeded to prepare for the feast. Robert donned his finest black velvet doublet, which had the Baratheon stag ornately embroidered in gold and silver across the front. Checking himself over a few more times, he met with his brother and the other Stormlords and led the group to the feast.
Robert was excited as he approached The Hall of the Hundred Hearths with his companions. He was looking forward to spending more time with Lyanna and Eddard. He had been so excited, in fact, that he had completely forgotten that the Mad King and his spawn were in attendance tonight. Looking up at the head table, he saw that the King was just as decrepit and crazed as he had been the last time around. Long nails, wild matted hair, and pallid skin all but cemented his image as a crazed tyrannical ruler. He also saw the prince and his wife sitting to the right of the king. Neither looked particularly happy with their company. As his party was announced, Robert locked eyes with the crowned prince and froze. For a moment, they stared at each other. The prince's polite smile turned to confusion, then to one of sudden realization. For his part, Robert could only sneer at the visage of his old enemy. He knew that if Destiny was to be averted, that he would have to work with the prince, but old hatreds die hard. The moment was broken when Stannis tapped him on the shoulder and motioned them towards where the servants had indicated their place. Unfortunately, Robert missed the queer smile on the king's face. Not long after being seated and served drinks and starters, more noble houses were announced. Robert scanned the hall for the Starks, but it seemed as if they had not arrived yet.
Robert was doing his best to ignore the royals sitting at the head table by chatting with the nobles of the Stormlands sitting nearby. He had just finished sharing a story about his time in the Vale with Silveraxe when the houses of the Reach entered. He could barely hold back a derisive snort as the newly minted Lord Paramount of the Reach, Mace Tyrell, flounced into the hall full of self-importance. Taking a drink of his wine to avoid causing a scene, Robert remembered that even in his previous life, he couldn't believe that he was of equal rank with the Fat Flower.
Though, as the rest of the Reach Lords were announced, he noticed something he never thought would happen. His brother had seemingly frozen and was staring at one of the new arrivals. Robert followed his brother's gaze and he nearly spit out his wine when he saw that the object of his brother's sudden obsession was none other than Delena Florent. The irony of the situation was by no means lost on him, and memories of bedding the girl came unbidden to his mind. Robert hurriedly focused his mind on something else and looked back at his brother before a realization dawned on him; that young maiden was probably the exact match his brother needed. Even though he had been drunk at the time, he could remember her warm yet no nonsense demeanor. While not blunt or rude about it, she was not one to mince words, and it was obvious that she was just as intelligent and cunning as the fox found on her house's arms. That, combined with the fact that she would prove to be much more fertile than her hag of an older cousin, Robert almost immediately came to the conclusion that she would be the exact kind of woman his brother needed as a wife. Perhaps Edric Storm would be Edric Baratheon this time around. Robert couldn't help but let out a loud bout of laughter, startling Stannis from his stupor and causing the young man to turn with an angry gaze.
"What?" Stannis said in a low growl.
"After parading Swans, Nightingales, and fawns in front of you, it seems like a fox has snuck in and stole your heart." Robert couldn't help but continue chuckling. Stannis hid his anger and embarrassment behind his normal stony mask.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he ground out.
"Oh please; you looked just like father whenever mother would walk into the room. Come now brother, she's a beautiful young lady from a powerful house of the Reach with ties going back to the Gardner kings," Robert pointed out.
"It would be an insult to our bannermen if both of us were to marry outside of the Stormlands," Stannis argued stoically.
"Bah, between you, me, and Renly, there'll be plenty of little stags running around to marry off to the Stormlords. Our bannermen can wait one more generation. I don't want you languishing in a marriage based on duty alone," Robert countered. Stannis had a thoughtful look on his face, so Robert pressed on. "I will talk to her father, and you will dance with her and spend time with her over the course of the tourney. If she does not prove to be a good match, I'll let it go and we can keep looking for a good Stormlands lady for you." After a few moments of contemplation, Stannis nodded in agreement with the plan. Robert was pleased to see just the barest hint of a smile on his brother's face, a good sign indeed.
Shortly after their conversation, the northern houses finally entered. Robert watched as Lyanna and her brothers were guided to their seats. She was wearing what many women in the south would call a rather plain dress, but in his estimation, it served to only enhance her wild beauty. Beside her was Howland Reed, looking as out of place as Robert was sure he felt. The Crannogman was wearing what must have been one of Benjen's doublets hastily emblazoned with a lizard lion, the symbol of his house. Lyanna was scanning the hall with a vindictive gleam in her eyes as Howland pointed at various tables. Robert couldn't help but grin as he recognized that they were identifying the squires that had assaulted Lord Reed earlier. Robert watched as they were seated and was standing up to go to them when he heard a deep voice speak behind him.
"His grace wishes to invite you to dine with him at the head table."
Robert turned to see the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, The White Bull, Ser Gerold Hightower standing over him. Even well past his prime, the Lord Commander was an imposing figure.
"Of course, I am happy to dine with his grace," Robert said, despite every instinct he had screaming for him to refuse. That, of course, was a quick way to find himself placed upon a pyre for treason. And so, with one last glance at where the Starks had been seated, he turned and began walking towards the head table followed by the Kingsguard.
As Robert drew closer, he saw that a place had been made for him next to the King. He was taking all the time he had available to him to try and order his thoughts and reign in the tempest of emotions in his heart. He was trying to remember and employ every lesson Jon had taught him about keeping calm and did his best to emulate the stony visage of his younger brother. Having always worn his emotions on his sleeves, it was not exactly his strong suit; but if there was any time to put those lessons into practice, it was when one was coming face to face with an insane monarch. Eventually, he walked up to the king and knelt.
"Your grace, you honor me with your summons."
"Get up, boy; groveling doesn't suit you," the king said in a dismissive tone. "Sit."
Robert did as he was told in as dignified of a manner as he could.
"I'm glad to see you've finally gotten out from underneath the skirts of that old windbag, Arryn. Always going on and on about honor."
Robert couldn't help but sneer at the king's words.
"He always did want me to be more like him," he said in what he hoped was a convincingly disgusted tone. It wasn't too hard; the king was in fact disgusting to him. The king's wild grin grew wider at his words.
"I've been told that you've finally taken your seat and have started acting like the great lord that you're meant to be. You remind me of a young Steffon. I'm sure you'll be just as loyal to me as he was. It was a tragedy when he was stolen from me." The King's purple eyes bore into Robert's blue. "I need loyal men around me, you know. Too many sycophants just telling me what I want to hear. You'll be loyal to me, right?" There was a manic gleam in the king's eye.
"I and House Baratheon will always be loyal to The Throne and House Targaryen," Robert said in a firm tone. He hoped it sounded sincere. The king sat there studying Robert's face as if looking for any trace of treason or falsehood. When the king smiled and let out a crooning laugh, Robert let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The king turned to his son and spoke.
"Now, Rhaegar, this is what a true loyal subject looks like. It's too bad Steffon didn't have a daughter for you to wed. Then you wouldn't be burdened with that Dornish bitch, and my granddaughter wouldn't be a half-breed." The prince's knuckles turned white as he replied. It was not lost on Robert that Princess Elia was seated on the other side of the prince, and he watched as she drank deeply from her cup to hide her anger and embarrassment.
"As you say your grace." Rhaegar's tone was clipped, and for once, Robert felt a little sympathy for the prince. The king continued.
"And you, Robert. I hear you've snagged a woman for yourself. You went North and secured the Stark girl."
"As you say, your grace. We will be wed after she is a woman grown."
"Don't wait too long. We have to make sure that we are keeping those heathen barbarians at heel. If anyone can break the she-wolf of the North, it'll be you. I'm sure you'll be able to make her into a proper bride."
Robert struggled to keep a lid on the fury that was roaring for the king's blood. His hands itched to wrap around King Aerys' neck and squeeze until he heard a snap, but he knew that he couldn't do that. So, he just smiled and replied in as calm a voice as he could.
"I'm sure she will learn her place." In his mind, her place was beside him riding across the windswept fields around Storm's End and accompanying him on hunts in the nearby woods.
The king let out a mad cackling laugh before looking over to Lord Whent and waving him over. The Lord of Harrenhal quickly came and knelt before the king.
"How can I serve you, your grace?" The lord's voice held a quiver that seemed to satisfy the king.
"Get this fucking feast started," the king demanded.
"Of course, your grace." The king dismissed Lord Whent with a wave, and the man stood and addressed the crowd, "My Lords and Ladies, I thank you for coming to this Grand Tourney to celebrate the name day of my dearest maiden daughter." He paused a moment and gestured to a young demure lady sitting prettily further down the head table wearing a crown of flowers. She blushed and waved at the assorted lords and ladies as they all cheered and clapped in her recognition. Lord Whent continued, "I invite you to eat and drink to your heart's content and dance the night away. As a special treat, the Crown Prince has agreed to play a song to start the night's festivities."
With that, the prince stood, bowed to his father, and walked to the floor of the hall as a servant brought him his harp. Without much fanfare, Rhaegar started playing a beautiful tune. Robert was distracted when the king leaned in close to Robert and started whispering in his ear. It took all of his self-control to not recoil from the king's rotten smell alone.
"My son seeks to usurp me. I need you in the capitol. I was to make your father my hand before Tywin had him killed, and Varys has told me good things about what you have done over the past few moons. Not only that, but you are a peerless warrior. With you by my side, we could crush any rebellion."
"My king, I don't deserve this honor," was all Robert could think to stammer out. He wasn't even going to attempt to parse out what the king was saying about his father. Chalking it up to the wild theories and delusions of a man driven to madness.
"I'm not trying to honor you," the king snarled. "I need you to protect the throne like your father should have."
Robert knew there was no way he could refuse the king; he had no way out but forward. So, as the last few bars of the prince's song played, Robert gave his answer.
"I live to serve the crown, your grace," he said, feeling his stomach sink in disgust at the words. Before the king could say anything else, there was a disturbance over where the Starks were seated. Robert saw Lyanna dumping her wine all over Benjen's head before storming out of the hall. Robert stood and was about to follow her out before he realized that he was still next to the king who was staring at him with a quizzical expression.
"On second thought, I wouldn't want your she-wolf bride fowling up the hand's tower before you've had a chance to properly housebreak her. The prince is a coward, and I doubt he'll do anything until he has an heir of his own. Now, go teach your barbarian wife-to-be how to properly act in the king's presence."
Robert was split between wanting to tear the king's head off for insulting his betrothed and feeling massive relief at the king's dismissal. He could barely believe that he had been saved by a combination of Lyanna's wild impulsiveness and the king's mercurial madness. Robert gave a quick bow to the king and strode towards the exit as fast as dignity would allow. As soon as Robert exited the hall, he found a wooden bench, picked it up, and imagining it to be the king, smashed it against the wall until it was not but small shattered pieces. Feeling much better, he looked up and saw a serving maid staring in shock and horror at the scene. Putting on a charming smile, he addressed her.
"Excuse the mess. Please let the steward know that I would be happy to pay for any damages. You wouldn't happen to have seen a young northern maid pass this way would you have? Gray dress?" The stunned servant simply nodded. "Thank you, could you point me in the direction she went?" The maid silently pointed down the hall. "Thank you again." With a slight nod to the still frozen servant, Robert set off to find his betrothed and finally get some time to talk to her.
A/N Hurray! I'm back after a terrible bout of writers block. Hopefully the next couple of chapters will not take months to write up, but as always no guarantees. I think I am happy with how it turned out and the trajectory things are on. As always I look forward to seeing what you all think :)