Sleep would not come easy to Robert. Not only was it difficult to find a comfortable position with his injured shoulder, but his mind refused to allow him to rest. His thoughts flitted unheeded between the feelings dredged up by his meeting with the Princess and her daughter, and the fact that he would be facing down none other than Ser Barristan Selmy in tomorrow's tilt with far less than ideal circumstances. His tired body screamed at him for rest and yet it took nearly an hour of tossing and turning followed by a stiff drink to find it.
When he finally slipped into the realm of dreams, he was again beset by his greatest failures, regrets, and tragedies. However, as he watched the memories, he felt the calming presence of The Mother enveloping him. This was no punishment, but a reminder of what he was fighting to prevent. He was reminded why he had worked so hard in preparation for this tourney, and what was at stake. The Mother's comfort slowly changed into a sense of divine determination that suffused his very being lifting his heart.
"You have done well so far Storm King." The voice of The Warrior called out. Robert spun around and took in the sight of the martial aspect of The Seven. The Warrior towered over the shifting memories clad in unadorned yet immaculate plate. He held a massive greatsword out in front of him, its tip buried in the ever-shifting ground of Robert's dream world. "Though in your current state, I highly doubt you will be able to best one of the greatest men to have donned the white cloak."
At his words, Robert felt the phantom pains in his shoulder.
"I don't care about what the chances are, I have to win," Robert said with a defiant grin. The Warrior laughed.
"Good, good, I should expect nothing less from a man that is said to be my incarnation. But alas, your body is still mortal and has its limits." The Warrior said while walking up to Robert and patting him on the head as if he was a mere squire. Robert wanted to protest but remembered that he was currently interacting with his god.
"So, I am going to lose then, and you are telling me to accept my defeat with dignity and honor?" Robert asked bitterly, knowing full well that he stood little chance against a man who had been able to slay nearly a dozen Northern warriors after having been wounded by spear and arrow.
"Ah, it is one of my favorite songs to sing. The young warrior eager to win glory fighting through pain and injury, only to be felled by the one at the apex of knighthood. The younger swears to one day defeat the older and the older welcomes the challenge with joy. It is an ancient tale that sits near the heart of mankind. Though I admit part of me would also appreciate a more romantic ending to this particular song." The Warrior said with a roguish grin. Robert heard The Maiden's melodious laughter echoing around him.
"I think I would prefer that as well," Robert mumbled. The warrior guffawed before scowling.
"Regardless, it seems as if others are determined to intervene in the story. Some amongst the Old Gods wish me to sully this beautiful tale of human struggle with sorcery. Apparently, they demand that their mortal kin be healed so as not to shame them." Disdain and annoyance are clear in The Warrior's powerful voice.
Robert blinked, taking in what his god had just said and slowly connecting the dots.
"Are you telling me that Durran's story is true? Are the gods here?" Robert exclaimed. The form of The Warrior shifted and shrank in on itself and a moment later The Crone stood in his place. She wore the kind of smile one would give a child who had said something profoundly silly.
"Yes, the story is true, after a fashion. Few tales can survive over the millennia completely unscathed. As for the Sea God and the Goddess of Wind, they have been with you all your life. Have you not felt her touch and gazed upon his power as you stood atop the walls of Durran's Defiance? Your kin may have turned away from the Old Gods, yet never did they think to remove the god's presence from their home. If you wish to speak to them, you need only listen." Almost as if to prove her point, Robert heard the howling of winds and the crashing of waves. The Crone tsked in annoyance before responding.
"Yes, yes, I'm getting on with it. Now young Storm King, due to our… unique connection, it has fallen to me to heal your arm and restore you to top fighting condition." The Crone said in a tone reminiscent of the various maesters Robert had been forced to endure over his life. She took a few steps closer to Robert, a pitying look on her face. "Prepare yourself, it will not be pleasant."
Without giving Robert time to respond, The Crone reached out for his shoulder and, incredibly, her hand passed through it. He could not help but let out a scream as burning pain shot through his arm and his dreams were enveloped in darkness. His pained screaming followed him into the waking world as he bolted straight up in his cot and grabbed at his arm. The pain itself faded after a few more moments taking with it the dull throbbing Robert had been enduring since his match with Ser Whent. He tested his arm's mobility and found that the pain and stiffness had completely disappeared. There was still significant bruising, and he was frankly happy to not have to come up with an excuse as to why they would have disappeared overnight.
"My lord," Walder called from outside Robert's room. "Is everything alright? The maester will be here soon to see to your shoulder."
"Ah, that won't be necessary. He won't say anything we don't already know." Robert said quickly, hoping to avoid answering questions as to why his arm was miraculously fully healed.
"As you say my lord," Walder said with a tone that Robert didn't particularly like. "But both Lady Stark and Lady Rogers insist that you be seen this morning and that the maester clear you to compete. I believe Lady Stark's exact words to me were 'Don't let that stubborn man worm his way out of this.'"
"Tell me, are you my squire or hers?" Robert said gruffly.
"Yours my lord, and as such it is my duty to make sure you are well taken care of." The boy responded solemnly.
"I have no say in the matter then?" Robert groused as he slung his legs off his bed.
"It would seem not, my lord" His squire's voice was far too jovial for his liking. Robert just grunted and ordered the boy to help him get ready for the day.
True to Walder's words, the maester arrived shortly after Robert had broken his fast. The man went about his inspection with a methodical attention to detail one might expect from a master of their craft, and as the inspection continued, a curious frown grew on the man's face. Robert suspected what was troubling the man.
"Anything wrong?"
"No, nothing is wrong. Which is in fact the curious thing. From what I can tell, your shoulder is completely healthy. If I were a man of youthful fancy, I would call it a miracle." The maester said with a scoff.
"Ha, perhaps the gods felt like seeing a good match rather than a lame man being ridden over by a living legend," Robert said jokingly even though he knew that it was exactly what had happened. The maester did not seem amused.
"The gods, if they truly exist, do not care for the lives of mortal men. No, we live in a world of reason and order. I have no doubt someday all things will be able to be explained through careful experimentation, even the incredible healing of your shoulder. Ignorance of the how is no excuse for rational men to espouse nonsense explanations such as magic or divine providence." The man said bitterly.
"That is an interesting point of view. You must be very popular with The Faith." Robert said with a well-meaning chuckle. The maester, for his part, had the decency to look abashed at his sudden outburst and lack of decorum.
"My deepest apologies Lord Baratheon for my lapse in etiquette." He said bowing his head, "Let us just say that there is a reason I had to leave Oldtown and accept this most… prestigious post, rather than staying to continue my studies." The tone of his voice betrayed his discontent with his assignment. "At least I was not forced to freeze in some forsaken keep in The North."
"So," Robert said after a few awkward moments of silence. "Am I clear to compete?"
"Yes, my lord. You are hale and whole." The maester replied quickly before packing away his supplies.
"Very good, you can see yourself out. I have a joust to prepare for. I leave the job of reassuring the ladies that I am well up to you." Robert said happily, purposefully ignoring the indignant look the maester was giving him.
Having finally dealt with that particular annoyance, Robert's thoughts turned to the daunting task ahead of him: defeating Ser Barristan Selmy in the joust. He knew from the start that he would have an uphill battle as he pursued his end goal of defeating Rhaegar and crowning Lyanna as queen of love and beauty. The optimist in him boasted at having already defeated one kingsguard, what was one more? The realist in him scoffed at that thought as it was ridiculous to count a lucky shot against Whent as any great feat when facing down a man like Selmy. Robert did his best to shake that thought as he made his way to where he would don his armor.
Robert couldn't help but smile at the work his household put into maintaining and preparing his plate for the day. The metal gleamed and a fresh new tabard had been prepared for the occasion. The day would begin with a ceremony to honor the four remaining competitors, and he would not be outshone by the other knights.
"The Prince and Ser Dayne are scheduled to face each other an hour after the presentation of the champions, my lord," Walder explained as he double and triple-checked the straps and buckles of Robert's armor. "Your match against Ser Selmy will be held immediately after, then the winners will be given two hours to rest before the final match."
"Very good, boy. Well, no reason to stay here and talk all day. Let's be off." Robert replied as he mounted his steed and began guiding it towards where the four remaining competitors were told to muster.
As he entered the waiting area, he noticed that only one other knight was present, and as fate would have it, it was Ser Barristan. Robert let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he was holding in. He had not been particularly eager to spend more time around his royal cousin. On the other hand, he was more than happy to speak with Barristan the Bold. That was a man who would forever hold Robert's respect. He urged his steed forward and noticed that the man's nephew was nearby acting as his squire.
"Hail Ser Selmy," Robert called out.
"Fair morning Lord Baratheon." Ser Barristan responded politely.
"It would be fairer if I wasn't facing one of the greatest knights of the realm soon," Robert said with a congenial chuckle. Ser Barristan grinned at the praise.
"Don't think the outcome certain my lord. Anything can happen on the tiltyard. I must say, you have trained your squire well. Perhaps if my nephew here hadn't fallen for that mad dog's ploy the melee might have had a more dignified ending. How goes your recovery boy?" Barristan asked Walder.
"It goes well Ser; it barely even hurts anymore." Robert's squire answered proudly. The older knight grinned at the display of youthful bravado.
Robert smiled proudly at his squire, but it faltered when he saw the approaching black and red of the Targaryen banner. Much to Robert's chagrin, the prince was wearing the same armor that he wore that fateful day on the Trident causing memories of the affair to arise unbidden. Robert quickly quashed the growing anger, and he quickly noticed something about the prince was askew. Rhaegar had always comported himself with an elegant arrogance when in public, but the man before him was riding slumped in his saddle as if carrying an impossible weight on his shoulders. The prince seemed lost in his thoughts and barely even noticed the others in the staging area. Something was wrong with the prince, and Robert felt that this could only bode ill for the future of the kingdom.
"Hail, your Grace," Robert called hoping to gauge Rhaegar's response. The prince was startled from his thoughts and immediately straightened his posture and looked toward Robert. Robert immediately took note of the dark bags forming under the prince's eyes and watched as his features shifted through several emotions. Surprise, fear, anger, and sorrow all played across Rhaegar's face before it was all hidden behind a noble smile.
"Hail, Lord Robert. A fine day to conclude the jousts is it not?"
Robert was frankly impressed with the man's ability to cover his weakness so quickly. If it were not for the physical signs of fatigue, Robert would have been convinced that the prince was in fine form.
"As you say, your grace," Robert replied as an awkward silence fell between them. Robert felt unease building in his chest. Something wasn't well with the prince and that did not bode well for a peaceful future. He was particularly anxious to hear if something had happened that might endanger Lyanna. He knew it would be wisest to simply keep silent, but he found himself speaking up anyway.
"It seems as if the chatter surrounding that mystery knight has died down. Even the king seems to have lost interest, are you still seeking the man, your grace?"
Rhaegar just stared at Robert head tilted slightly as if trying to determine where Robert was going with this. Silence reigned a heartbeat longer than Robert would have liked.
"Have you not heard? All that was found was the man's shield. I delivered it to my father, and he promptly threw it in the hearth to burn and lost interest. Did you have some new information that the crown would be interested in?" The prince replied with a slight frown.
"No, no, nothing new, it was just all anyone could talk about for some time. Just wanted to know if any new gossip had spread." Robert said quickly. The prince raised an eyebrow.
"Really? I would not have thought you one to chase after rumors. I find them often to be naught but the idle chatter of bored women." Rhaegar said dismissively.
"Gossip almost always contains elements of truth in it. A good lord should not dismiss it out of hand." Robert countered quickly.
"Hm, an interesting bit of wisdom. And what truth might be found in this gossip?" Rhaegar asked with a smirk that had Robert's hand itching to grasp his hammer.
"I am simply concerned with the state of his majesty's wrath," Robert said while trying to maintain his calm. He did not like this game the prince was playing. Granted it was his fault for blundering into the other man's favored battlefield.
"Well then as I said, the whole affair has passed from my father's mind. Nothing for you to concern yourself with." The prince said with an indifferent wave.
Robert was by no means satisfied. Something was wrong with the prince, and he did not like the implications that came with it. Robert foresaw another trip to the sept this evening, as prayer seemed to only answer to stilling the unease in his heart. One thing was for certain, he did not want to spend much more time in the presence of his royal cousin lest he say or do something unwise. Fortunately, the call for the start of the ceremony came before this meeting got any worse.
AN: Well, I am finally back with a new chapter. I am sorry it took me so long, and I really and truly appreciate the encouragement that was left in the comments. I wanted this to be longer, but if I sat on it any longer I might have never posted it. I am finally getting a clearer picture of how I want to wrap up the Harrenhal arc so that I can move on to the final arc of this part of the story. I make no guarantees that it won't be another six months before I post a new chapter, but I am committed to grinding forward, so thanks for being patient.