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[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert had spent the last few weeks travelling around Westeros, visiting a number of the Seven Kingdoms, even returning to Storm's End for a couple of nights before getting very agitated and uncomfortable about being in the same castle as Stannis. After being very nearly killed by boredom that was induced by his little brother, Robert carried on with his travels, going to places he had been to few times, such as the Iron Isles and the North. The Baratheon was fascinated by unknown places, learning new cultures - the fashion, the accents and local dialects, the gastronomy (particularly the wine), but most of all, the women. He enjoyed seeing how the ladies talked, for example, the girls of the Westerlands spoke softly and elegantly, but the Northern women spoke with more confidence and carelessness to how they sounded to other people. And maybe he also wanted to see what the women were like in bed.

However, it was nice to be back on familiar ground when Robert returned, for the past few days, Robert had been yearning for his own bed in the Eyrie like a babe yearns for it's mother. But it was far too early for sleeping, as the sun was still in the sky, turning it into a beautiful shade of orange and pink. Robert found himself sat on a windowsill by a large window admiring the landscape, as he used to when he was a little lordling, when he first came to the Eyrie. "It is good to be back." He said as he leaned his head on the window, his blue eyes slowly closing to sleep.

[robert-ofstormsend]

Sorry for the inactivity guys! I've had little wifi connection over the past few weeks but I should be active this weekend

[robert-ofstormsend]

“No, I kindly returned the favor of giving me this cut. Doubly so.” Robert said smugly. “In fact, he’s probably being cradled in his wife’s arms, as she tends to his wounds.” Truthfully, Robert was unsure if this was the case, after all, the man had just found his wife in bed with another man. Perhaps he was a million miles away from her, in the care of a local maester or healer. “Aye. I suppose it is.” Robert replied, unsure what she meant, but her quietness could have easily been mistaken for envy. “Given the chance, would you learn how to wield a blade? Or would you prefer the bow?” Robert had seen many women perfect the bow, perhaps even better than most men.

The Baratheon laughed at her comment, it was something that he too, had often said when people told him that they had heard much about him. “Of course not, my lady.” He said, winking at the woman, he had heard of her beauty, and he had also learnt that she was a good leader, with the possibility of being greater than her brother, Mace. “It is no secret that you are a force to be reckoned with, Lady Mina.” Robert dared not to ask what she knew of him, it would be the same, that he slept in a new bed each night and drank more wine than a Lannister has gold.

“Well then, Mina. You can call me simply Robert. I feel the same way, as I believe that anyone who has not yet lambasted me for bleeding on their favorite handkerchief is a friend too.” He said, smiling at the Tyrell lady. Robert shook his head, “No more than usual, my lady.” It was at that moment that he realized he was not lightheaded at all, despite the fact that only an hour before, he had drank an insulting quantity of mead. To humor the woman, Robert nodded in agreement, even though he was neither hungry nor tired, in truth, he simply wanted another glass of wine.

The amusement which danced across soft features at his commentary faded swiftly once Mina noticed his reaction to her pressing the cloth against his cut. “I am sure you didn’t leave without a fight, whoever this large man may have been,” she murmured, finding her train of thought wondering to what could have happened once again even if she had a fair idea. “It must be,” Mina paused, chest rising and falling in that moment as though hoping she could will the appropriate word to her lips if it were buffeted by a breath, “Invigorating, knowing that you can wield a weapon, able to leave those who oppose you weak at the knees and have them fear facing you in battle.” Mina grew quieter with each breath she expelled, speaking generally in the knowledge that all noble men were trained in combat while women weren’t afforded the same privilege.

For an instant, once his gaze shifted to look directly at her, the Tyrell wondered if she had said something wrong - something to displease him - and attempted to hide her relief when that was not the case. She understood where he was coming from, knowing that she would not be as close as she was with her own siblings had she not spent the majority of her childhood, teen years and early adult life in their company. A dark brow lifted when the Baratheon said that he had heard of her family, including her, “I hope what you’ve heard of me is nought but good, she jested, “I would love to know what I’d have done in the instance my reputation were to precede me. As it is to meet you, Lord Robert,” the edges of her lips rose in a smile.

“You flatter me, Ser,” the words as genuine as fresh flowers that grew in Spring months, “though you may thank me by simply calling me Mina, for anyone who has bled on my favourite handkerchief can be considered a friend,” one eye blinked at Robert as she spoke, knowing he had not forced her hand in the matter, believing what she had said regarding friends forgoing formalities that noble families were accustomed to using.“You don’t feel light headed, do you?” The query seemed to have been prompted by what she herself had said, noting the blood that had seeped into the fabric in her hand as it had slowed. “You should probably eat something, and potentially sleep too.” Mina suggested with a shrug, knowing it was far beyond a lady to tell a man what to do, particularly at such a late hour.

[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert chuckled at her response. “It does seem quite hypocritical, doesn’t it? An honorable noble who will soon take part in criminal activity. I instead should be setting an example to the people.” Slim chance of that, Robert thought. The Baratheon was a bad example to everyone, so perhaps stealing such a fine stallion would not be much of a surprise. “Of course you should, my lady, I could be anyone, a thief, a drunk, a murderer. I could have lied about being Robert Baratheon. But, I am cautious of you, also. I never trust a beautiful woman straight away.”

“I can imagine what you call her during such a time,” she laughed gently as she glanced over at the horse he had pointed out to be his before returning her gaze back to the Lord before her. “I do not doubt that you are an honorable man, my Lord. Even if you do suggest we steal a horse,” Barbrey smiled as her fingers brushed through the horse’s mane once again. “That is a shame, Bethany tends to have quite a good judge of character. Should I be cautious?”

[robert-ofstormsend]

“No, my lady. When she runs away from me, then I revert back into the names such as brute and fiend.” The horse rarely got away from Robert, as it was trained well, but it could sometimes do the annoying and particularly embarrassing things that horses did, like urinate when riding. That’s when Robert’s patience ran out and the cruel names stepped in. “Ah, I am an honorable man, I would blame myself and myself alone.” Robert smiled, “Oh, Lady Ryswell. I believe I had the pleasure of meeting your sister at the tourney. She did not seem impressed by my charm.” The Baratheon laughed.

Barbrey’s brow arched slightly at the name chosen for the horse, laughing while she looked over the horse. “Rainbow? I imagine that is fun to call when she gets away from you,” she smiled with another gentle laugh. “But if I tell you my name how can I be sure you wont just use it to put all of the blame on me?” she asked, turning her expression as serious as she could master, lowering into a curtsy. “I suppose I must trust you if I am to be your accomplice. Barbrey Ryswell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[robert-ofstormsend]

“It was certainly a dagger. Either that, or it was a sword held by a very large man.” Robert replied, wincing as she gently pressed her handkerchief on his cheek. He felt quite awful having ruined her piece of cloth, it was beautiful, the embroidery looked expensive and as did it’s soft material. Perhaps it was meaningful also, as it proudly showed the sigil of her house. “It was not steel, for certain, my lady. Possibly iron. Common folk only seem to afford iron.” Robert had never owned an iron weapon. Even the dagger that Jon Arryn gave to him when he was young was made from the next best thing after Valyrian steel. 

Robert looked up into her face when she asked if he was Eddard Stark’s brother. Despite both of them often told people they were like brothers, most noble folk just called them fellow wards, or Jon Arryn’s boys. It was quite nice to be acknowledged in this way, because to Robert, Eddard was his brother, more than Stannis or Renly were. “Of sorts, yes.” Robert paused, “We grew up together. I spent more time with him than my own brothers, so I am closer to him than I ever will be to them.” Robert had never really loved his true brothers, they often annoyed him and Renly was too young to start a close relationship with.

“Ah, I have heard of all of you, my lady. I am surprised I had not recognized you earlier.” Robert said, she did have the brown hair and eye combination of the Tyrells, and her accent was indeed of Highgarden origin. But he had only really seen portraits of many nobles, or read about them when he used to study under Lord Arryn. He also found it strange that he had visited the Reach many times, but had not met with one Tyrell. In fact, the first Tyrell he met was Lord Mace at the tourney of Harrenhal. But then again, he had visited the Reach for the wine more than anything. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Mina.”

“Thank you for helping me also, Lady Mina. Not many would do that nowadays.” Robert smiled, and continued, “In fact, I fear without you, I would have been dead in a ditch at least ten minutes ago.”

The corner of the brunette’s mouth twitched upward in an expression that gradually transformed into a genuine smile, “The God’s have an interesting sense of humour, that is for certain,” she responded, tone lilted with a mild amusement. After taking a moment to contemplate the man’s inquiry, slender fingers reached into the pocket concealed in her cloak and emerged grasping a handkerchief that was twice the size than normal, embroidered with the Tyrell sigil of a golden rose, as most things owned by the family were, and a capital M. “

Come here,” the woman asked, the edges of her lips soon turning downward in noting that Robert was right in his assessment of the cloth, standing by with the fresh fabric in her hand, she guided his hands away and immediately pressed the handkerchief over the wound. “What did you say your assailant used to inflict this wound?” The youngest daughter of Oleanna having tended to several injuries though never being able to gauge the severity of them were they not her own, nor trained enough to know what had caused it.

Lips parted fleetingly as a bout of soft musical laughter burst forth from between them, joining in the Baratheon’s amusement for a moment, “Noble folk are quicker, in my experience.” The serious nature of the words negated by the humour that still lingered in her tone. Once she had been afforded with the dark haired man’s name, a brow arched as though anticipating the query that fell from her lips, “Eddard Stark’s brother?” Mina asked, “Of sorts,” she added remembering the conversation she had had with the Northerner before the Tourney where he had mentioned that Robert was as good as a brother to him. 

“I am Mina Tyrell, my lord,” the introduction which was reciprocated accompanied by a slight bow of her head, “I’m sure you’ve heard of my sisters Janna and Alerie as well as my brother Mace.” Mina, though she was the apple of her mother’s eye, was much more subtle - or tried to be - in the things she did than her siblings. Mace and Alerie presiding over the Reach and Janna having established a reputation for herself without needing to rule, the youngest rose would have been surprised had he not heard of them though the Tyrell family themselves were renowned across the Seven Kingdoms.

[robert-ofstormsend]

“If you did that, you’d have Stannis to answer to. I bet that boring little arse could kick you out of the Stormlands before you could say Storm’s End.” Robert said grinning, whilst patting his friend on the shoulder. He did not really respond to his quite treasonous words, as they were outdoors in a street, where anyone could be spying on them, perhaps when they return to the Eyrie, Robert would join in. “You should have taken my life when I was weak, I’d be killed quicker injured. I guess now you’ll have to fight me when I’m in full strength.”

“You? A good student?” Robert laughed, trying to imagine Elbert staying sat down and actually reading a book for longer than two minutes. “Just do what I do - get Ned to read the book and then just tell you the basics of it.” He supposed people like Robert and Elbert, who had much more interesting things to do than read had a friend like Eddard, who actually enjoyed the learning. “Luckily, Jon is probably asleep by now, so he won’t be bothered at this moment in time if you’re reading or not.” He said, then, he wanted to tease his friend, “The Arryns are a boring sort anyway, you’d be much better reading about us Baratheons.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed when Elbert mentioned Rodrik Greyjoy, one of Robert’s least favorite people. “What’s he doing in the Eyrie? He should be in King’s Landing licking my father’s boots.” He laughed when his friend japed about the appearance of the kraken, nodding his head in agreement. “He looks like a kraken’s wiped it’s tentacle all over his face. I tell you what, Elbert, if he’s still there when we get back, I’ll show him the moon door.”

“Oh but, of course I was! This was all the culmination of my elaborate ruse to seize the Stormlands for myself and march across Westeros, pillaging and burning as I go! I’ll walk right up to the Red Keep, kick Aerys out onto the street, trade the Iron Throne for something much more comfy, perhaps a nice recliner, and then rule forever as King Elbert The Fucking Legendary!” Elbert let out a mock evil laugh for good measure, one which he was sure even the Dornish could hear. When he was done, he coughed and added: “Well, that was the idea, anyway. You’re just lucky that your battle wound caused me to take pity on you.” 

When he heard the reason for the scar, a new fit of laughter came from the boy, along with a slap of his knee. It took him far longer to calm down then the first time. “And here was me thinking you were just trying something new in the bedroom tonight. Next time, you should try actually putting your cock in.” Another laugh, a playful punch on the arm. 

“No, actually I was being a good little student and reading all about House Arryn up in the library, at the behest of Uncle Jon. So interesting I fell right the fuck to sleep. Snuck out about half an hour ago. But you’ll never guess who walked in right in the middle of my studies. It was only Rodrik fucking Greyjoy. Can you believe it? Tell you what, he does actually look like someone has tried to drown him.”

[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert was sure he had not met the lady, nor being introduced, but she certainly had all the qualities of a highborn lady, judging from her clothes, her accent and the way she walked with such bearing. But he also sensed she was perhaps scared of being alone at this hour, and being by herself, surely. As he had noticed her eyes widen when he spoke, obviously catching her off guard. Personally, he was just glad it was a noble woman that found him, and not the husband that had caused the monstrosity on the side of his face.

He had noticed quite an arrogant quality in her voice, and he gave a small grin, liking a woman who was confident, not some shy lady who would apologize for being in his company.”Of course they are, my lady. I simply mean that it is quite a rare sight to see someone of your sex so highborn wondering around at this time of night.” Usually, the only people who were out at this time were thieves, whores and drunkards, all finding their way home, or at least somewhere to sleep.

“Perhaps you would like me to walk you somewhere? That way, I know you have reached safety. It would be ungentlemanly for me to just let you roam these dangerous streets at night.” He paused, hoping that did not come across as patronizing. “And maybe I can go and wake up some poor maester and have him fix my face.” He said, laughing at himself. He had no intention of finding a maester, he just wanted to go to bed and sleep, as he would have done if he were not so rudely interrupted by the husband of his latest lover. He offered his free arm out to her, still not quite sure if she would take it. “Don’t worry, my lady. I am Robert Baratheon, not some evil kidnapper.”

Janna had felt like taking a walk at night. Of course she knew how dangerous it was for a young lady like herself to wander about the alleys and passages of the capital in the moonlight. But still, Janna was not afraid and had Chosen not to tell anyone about her leaving the castle. No one knew where she was going, no one even knew she was gone. If something happened to her she would die right there, in the piss of the inhabitants of King’s Landing.

The hem of her gown was covered six inches deep in mud as she wandered about. She tried to avoid the alleyways that looked too dark and if someone looked at her too intently she reached into the pocket of her skirt, her fingers clenching around the handle of a little sharp knife. She had tried to stick to the main roads but soon Janna didn’t know where she was going at all. Slowly, the feeling of panic was creeping all over the lady and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, shrieking away whenever someone would cross her path.

You can do this, Janna. You’re not a child. You are a lady and you have a knife. You’ll make your way back to the castle, where your warm and soft bed is waiting for you and no one will even know you were gone. Her thoughts were spinning in her head and she barely noticed herself turning a corner and almost bumping into a tall figure. The deep male voice made her jump and when she looked at him, her eyes were widened in fear. She did not know who it was but considering his clothes, Janna came to the conclusion that it must be a lord. Taking a deep breath, she recovered and answered, cockily. “What, is a lady not allowed to take a nightly walk out in the beautiful streets of the capital?”

[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert was unsure whether or not to be glad about the company of Lyanna Stark, certainly in this situation, anyway. Certainly, he was happy she was here because he did love her and never turned down the opportunity to look at her beautiful face. But Robert did not want to explain to her the reason why he had obtained his new facial feature. He just prayed to the gods that she was one of the many ladies who found scars attractive, if it did scar, which again, Robert prayed that it would not.

His eyebrows shot up as soon as he touched his cheek, and he immediately found himself putting his own hand over hers, he certainly looked forward to these sorts of things when they inevitably wed. But after about two seconds, Robert realized that they were not yet married and he would have to wait for this little utopia to happen frequently, so he quickly removed his hand from hers. “My apologies, my lady. I am sorry.” But he nodded at her comment about a maester. “I should, Lyanna, I really am quite a lot of pain.” He tried to say that as genuine as possible, to get her sympathy, but now, it was at most just a sting, not real pain.

Lyanna knew she should have not been out on a night like this, but then again Lyanna was never the type to listen to reason. It was all so temping. The taverns, the ale, everything. It was times like these that she wised she had been born a common girl. Maybe then she would be allowed more freedom. Wandering aimlessly through the town she stopped a man looking very suspicious… and dressed like a Lord. She’d know that face anywhere, Robert Baratheon. 

She had hoped not to draw attention to herself, but it seemed she had stared for too long. “I, I don’t know what you mean. What are you doing out so late?” She asked, returning the question. “Wait, are you bleeding? Maybe you should have a maester look at it. It looks deep.” She extended a hand towards him, hesitating moment before running a hand along his cheek. Lyanna wasn’t entirely sure she should be doing this. She had wanted to make it clear that she had no interest in Robert, but she wasn’t cold-hearted. She knew she had to do something.

[robert-ofstormsend]

 elbertarryn:

Elbert Arryn was, for the moment, nine years old once more. He danced down the street, his sword cutting down imaginary foes as he went. A giant flew out from behind a corner and it cost the beast its head. A band of thieves dared to try and challenge him but they were swiftly made into mincemeat. An almighty dragon bellowed at him and spat fire but Elbert dodged its blaze and tore open its stomach with one swing. 

He stopped short when he turned the corner and saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. Oh, bloody hell. The last thing I need is someone seeing me making an arse of myself. Thankfully, the figure seemed to be distracted by his own reflection in a nearby window. A potentially high price to pay for vanity. Wait…he’s cut himself. He’s checking the wound. Robert? 

He hadn’t expected to see Robert out this late, although one reason why he might be in this part of town at this hour sprang to mind. Elbert was still half-hidden in shadow when he turned, so he decided to have a little fun. 

“You fucked my sister, you Baratheon scum.” Elbert growled in a fake Northerner accent, slowly drawing his sword. “I’ll ‘ave yer ‘ead for that one.”

He charged forward with an almighty roar out of the shadows, stopping just short of the man and bursting into a fit of laughter. When he had calmed himself, he put his sword back in its sheath and leaned against the nearby wall. 

“I could ask you the same question, mate. Although, I’m fairly certain I know the answer. I assume your brand new birth mark has something to do with it?”

Robert sighed and closed his eyes slowly when he heard a distinctive northern accent accuse him of bedding his sibling. Not another one. Not twice in one night. Robert was too tired to fight another man because he had slept with another wrong woman. His hands ached too much and he didn’t have a weapon to fight with. “Look, my friend, it was probably your sister who wanted it more than I.” He said, trying to look deeper into the shadow to see who it was making the accusations. He wanted to know how strong the man looked, if it did end in a fight.

Then, suddenly, the familiar face of Elbert ran towards him, causing Robert to jump in shock at this sudden movement. “Seven bloody hells, Elbert! Are you trying to kill me?” Robert yelled, his free hand clutching the area of his body that was over his heart. “Damn you and your bloody accents, Arryn.” He glared whilst watching Elbert, who seemed too busy laughing than worrying about Robert’s cut. He would have joined in with Elbert’s laughter if he did not feel so sorry for himself, so he let out a fake bundle of chuckles to appease his friend.

“Fucked a woman and ended up getting cut by a man with a dagger, let me try and remember what she called him... Oh aye, Husband.” Robert said, almost letting out a genuine bark of laughter, realizing how ridiculous the whole scenario was, though it was not a situation that Robert had never been in before. “So Elbert, you didn’t answer my question... Or have you been doing the same thing that I have?”

[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert was not certain who this woman was. Her clothes obviously led Robert to believe she was a noble woman, and her accent told him she was from the Reach, so he could only presume she was a Tyrell. He laughed at her comment, “Damn the seven, the only time I do not carry around clean cloth with me is the only time I need it.” He smiled at the noble lady, not wanting to come across as rude and sarcastic. “I wonder, are you carrying any cloth, or a handkerchief, my lady? I fear that this cloth has not got enough material to soak up any more of my blood.” He could feel the stickiness of the blood leak onto his fingers, as he accidentally squeezed what once was his sleeve. It almost made Robert squirm a little.

“I am simply trying to recover from a little fight I had with some commoner. We had a slight... Disagreement, and common folk are quite quick to bite.” He said, chuckling and lightly pointing at his cheek. He did not explain to full story, his reputation was already bad enough without adding another night of debauchery to it. “I am Robert Baratheon, my lady.” Finally introducing himself with hopes of the woman standing before him to reciprocate, he bowed slightly, whilst being careful to not remove the cloth and not projectile bleed all over his clothes.

The voice that pervaded the fog which had settled over her mind caused the edges of her mouth to turn downward to contrast her gaze shifting upward to see who had addressed her. Mina regarded the man who addressed her, allowing herself to take in his appearance: the dishevelled state of his clothing, the torn sleeve from the arm of his shirt and (perhaps most importantly) the blood that stained the cloth he held to his left cheek. “I am telling you that your wound will become infected if you do not use a clean cloth… apparently,” the brunette offered a shrug of one shoulder, the words devoid of blatant sarcasm one would expect but instead held a more subtle edge to them.

It was confusion that furrowed lines in her forehead, brows drawing together while the youngest Tyrell wondered if she should fear her safety having not heard the scuffle that lead the man before her to be wounded. “What of you?” Mina queried, using his own question despite the fact she had not really answered it herself, the words far more tentative than her previous statement, having heard tales of what men did once free from the constant vigilance of the exiled star that would guard the sky during the day. 

[robert-ofstormsend]

Having had a clear view of the woman’s face, Robert recognized the woman to be Bethany Ryswell, “Ah, my little ice queen, one of the few women to resist my charms.” Robert smirked, not sure if he wanted to tell this fine lady that he was wondering the streets at such an hour because he had, nearly quite literally, been thrown out of his bed for the night. But this woman seemed to be able to tell a lie from fact, so he sighed and said, “I’m afraid I picked the wrong woman to bed. I am walking at such a late hour because I am drowning myself in sympathy because my face is now damaged... And you didn’t answer the question which I asked first, my lady.” He finished sarcastically.

Robert was not sure what Lady Bethany could do to help him, a woman born into nobility was often taught poetry and singing instead of how to tend to a cut. But he felt it rude to object, he lowered the cloth from his sleeve to reveal his cut and said, “Do your magic, my lady. Please save me before I bleed to death. I am too young and handsome to die.” Robert winked at the woman and walked a little closer to her, so she could analyse his wound.

Whilst she looked at his cheek, he did not want to create an awkward silence, so thinking of a way to start the conversation he simply asked, “I have not seen you since the tourney, my lady. How have you been? You look well.”

A late night stroll had seemed like a good idea at the time. After tossing and turning restlessly for some time Bethany had left the quiet but stuffy and too warm chamber she was staying in to slip out into the night in the hope that some fresh air might settle her enough to allow her to sleep before the night was over. Wandering aimlessly did indeed bring her some relaxation and she had hoped that she’d be able to have her little stroll of freedom without anyone being any the wiser. That was until she spotted a familiar figure peering into a window. Robert Baratheon.

Bethany made her way over to the young lord, smirking slightly at his question which seemed rather hypocritical to her. “I’m quite sure I should be asking you the same thing my lord, though I suppose it is more scandalous for a lady to be caught out of bed in the middle of the night.” 

Her jesting over, she finally took a proper look at his face. Her brow furrowed slightly at the sight of his injury and concern coloured her voice when she spoke again. “Perhaps you should let me look at that for you, Lord Robert, I might be able to help you with it.” In truth, Bethany wasn’t entirely sure if there was a lot that she would be able to do but she thought it was only right she offered some sort of assistance and she wanted to at least attempt to help.

[robert-ofstormsend]

“Some women find battle scars extremely attractive, Greyjoy. It will heal.” Robert turned back to face the window again, studying his face, the bottom of his left side now stained with his own blood, “They’ll still beg for this pretty face.” He said, smirking at his own reflection. Laughing about the kraken’s comment on his schoolboy error, Robert quickly replied, “Didn’t see one. Even women who are devoted to their husbands would take off their wedding band for a night with me, you wouldn’t understand.” He had said that lightheartedly, so it did not come off as insulting, the last thing Robert needed was another fight to ruin the other side of his face.

“Ah, some boys aren’t confident enough to walk straight into a brothel, they need to watch first to see what happens.” Suddenly, Robert began to let out a hearty laugh. “I was not prepared to go into a brothel, so I asked one of the kitchen maids to show me... She was quite happy to comply!” He stopped laughing when his cut began to pain him, but he exhaled a breath of laughter when Rodrik spoke of northern women. “I did not know so many foreign women traveled to the Iron Isles?”

He was starting to feel like a mad old lord, telling his servants of past tales of debauchery. “I was in Lannisport at the time. Saw this woman in a tavern and bought her a couple of cups of mead, next thing I knew, I was in the cabin of her ship untying her breeches.” He grinned at the memory, “However, Islander women are a little slimy for my taste. I almost felt like I was fucking an actual kraken.” Robert raised a corner of his lips in a smirk.

“Too bad he landed your face, I doubt many maids will like the look of man bearing the scars of nights with other women.” He smirked, reckoning the woman Robert bedded would have to be deaf not to know how many others had been in their place before, and betted the small scar would do nothing to harm his stamina. “But you broke the golden rule, Baratheon, check for rings before you get her out of her clothes. Rookie mistake, I really did assume more from you, of all people.” He smirked, smugly watching him stem the flow of blood from his cheek.

“You flatter yourself, for if I was trying to figure out where to put my cock I would have long made it to the nearest brothel by now, not standing here with you.” Rodrik said, shoving his hands into his pockets with a wry smile. “And as a matter of fact, I have, and bedded one from the north, though they aren’t nearly as fun.” He teased, having heard of Robert’s fixation with the youngest Lady Stark. 

“Though I haven’t had a lady from the Stormlands before, perhaps that’s where I’ll try next. As for you making the eight, I don’t quite believe you’ve had an Islander woman, and if you have, they have lowered their standards considerably since I was there last.” Considering Robert’s track-record for getting into bed with seemingly every woman under the sun, he wasn’t sure he was right. 

[robert-ofstormsend]

Robert rolled his eyes when he saw it was the reflection of Rodrik Greyjoy, the kraken who seemed to enjoy nothing more than mocking Robert, and who licked the boots of his lord father perhaps even more than Lord Steffon himself licked the boots of the king. “You know me so well, Greyjoy.” Robert said coldly, now looking at his knuckles that were growing redder by the minute from the punches that they had thrown. “Some scullery maid who forgot to mention the minor detail of her marriage to some great oaf with a dagger.” He then pulled the cloth away from his cheek to find that the bleeding was starting to slow down, fortunately. 

“She was from the westerlands. You ever fucked a girl from Casterly Rock? They’re as malicious but as beautiful as the Lannisters themselves.” Dropping the cloth, and ripping off some more from his other sleeve, Robert pressed on his cut, a little harder that the previous time and he shut his eyes rapidly and bit on his tongue to stop the wince exiting his mouth, he did not want to look weak in front of the Greyjoy. “In fact. I only need a girl from the north to finally make the eight.” But he was saving that for when he inevitably wed his lovely Lyanna Stark.

“So, Greyjoy, what is it you are actually doing here?” Robert asked, although it somehow did not seem strange finding the quite grim man wondering around the streets at night. “Have you been stalking me all night? Trying to find out where that thing between your legs goes when you’re with a woman?” Robert smirked, he knew that the kraken was of perhaps the same age as him, but luckily his height and muscle made him look older, so he felt he was allowed to jape about the manhood and the bedroom habits of people who were his age. 

The darkened streets made it hard to make out the faces of the drunken men and giggling prostitutes as they stumbled past him as he got into the lower parts of the city. Rodrik thougt he well deserved a drink, or several, after the day he’d had, and was on the lookout for somewhere to aquire such a thing when he heard someone wince loudly in the otherwise silent street. As he stepped closer, out of curiosity more than actual concern, he had to suppress a laugh at the sight of his least favourite Stag nursing some sort of wound on his cheek. 

Knowing Robert’s reputation, and the red stained piece of cloth he was holding to his face, Rodrik would have been willing to bet money that he had suffered some sort of reprimand for sleeping with the wrong woman, or maybe it had been the woman herself who had delivered the blow. Rodrik also had heard a different part of Robert’s reputation when it came to defending himself though too, and supposed whoever had causing this cut had come out of the fight a lot worse off. 

“Going to get roaring drunk and laughing at fuckers like you who have obviously bedded the wrong man’s daughter, or wife, or sister.” Rodrik laughed with a wry smirk. “Or did you just fall down some stairs or something , Lord Robert?” 

[robert-ofstormsend]

Grinning, Robert replied, “Only when she is not on her best behavior. She is called Rainbow, usually... I did not choose that name myself. I let my little brother Renly name her, which I’ve now come to regret.” Robert laughed, rather Renly than Stannis, who would have called her something stupid like Vigilance or Abstinence. Robert raised his eyebrow at the woman, “Well then, I would be most pleased to learn the name of my accomplice. I am Robert Baratheon.” He said, bowing slightly.

Glancing in the direction that was pointed out to her, Barbrey smiled at the sight of the other horse. “You call it a fiend, my lord?” she questioned as she turned her gaze back to the man. “I think your horse is just as admirable. This one is majestic while yours looks strong and quite proud, you should be just as proud,” she she bowed her head slightly with a smile, her hand stroking over the horse’s snout once again. “Perhaps we should. You can keep guard and I’ll ride her away, I assume I’ll be much quicker,” her smile was quite innocent but with a glimmer of cheek in her eyes.

[robert-ofstormsend]

An adventurous night. Robert had bedded some maid and at around midnight he found himself being dragged out of her bed by a man who claimed to be her husband. He also had a knife which quickly found it’s way across Robert’s cheek. After maybe an hour of fighting the man, Robert quickly left the house with a gash above his jawline, on his left cheek. The maid’s husband, despite being the one with a weapon, had stayed in his home with more than that - a broken nose and a couple of broken ribs, by the look of it. 

Robert wandered over to a window that was close by and looked at his reflection, that was lit up by the moon. He sighed when he saw that the cut on his face was quite deep, but luckily in a place that could be covered by some stubble. The Baratheon did not like having ugly features on his head, and had promised that he would grow a full beard in the unlikely event of him gaining a double chin. He ripped some cloth from his sleeve and gently pressed it against his wound, wincing quite loudly as he did so.  He blamed the maid for all this, if she had said she was married, or even that her husband would be home soon, he would not have such an ugly thing squirting blood all over his face. 

Still looking in the window, he saw someone’s reflection behind him, turning around with the cloth still held against his cheek, he asked, “And what are you doing out at such a late hour?”

[robert-ofstormsend]

“No, my lady. Regrettably.” Robert placed his hand on the mane of the horse. “I too have been admiring it. My horse is that fiend over there.” He said reluctantly, pointing at a big, bulky black horse. A tall destrier for a tall man, people often said to Robert. It was a good horse, and had served Robert well in many jousts and when he traveled, but it was not exactly elegant, like a white or palomino steed. The Baratheon kept it only because he felt it was a waste of money to get rid it. “Perhaps we should steal it.” Robert grinned, winking at the lady.

It was cliche to say that someone of house Ryswell would be in awe when it came to horses, but Barbrey truly was. Her own horse was her most trusted companion, after her sister of course, and she knew how to ride exceptionally well. But this fascination meant that she was even drawn to the horses that weren’t her own. After seeing one, tied up and alone, Barbrey had glanced around to see if she could spot an owner before she approached. “Hello there, you are quite beautiful,” she smiled, raising a hand to gently stroke down the horses nose. Upon hearing footsteps near by, Barbrey turned her head to look at the other. “I’m sorry, is she yours?”