How The Storm Queen Laughed | Female Robert Baratheon | GOT/ASOIAF

The Lady's Bastard

Eddard Stark, ward of Lord Jon Arryn, woke up to a sharp knocking at the door to his chambers. 

He was rather confused, seeing as it was the middle of the night, and rather concerned by the insistent knocking. He hastened to open the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes, only for a cloaked figure to shoulder her way into the room without so much as a greeting.

"Gods' sake. What are you doing here?" He grumbled, pulling on a shirt and wishing he was back in bed. Winter was nearly here, and even for a Stark, the Eyrie was cold. The embers of the fire burning in the hearth couldn't hold a candle to Winterfell, where the walls themselves radiated heat. "We're supposed to be up before dawn to - " He broke off. 

The girl had taken off her cloak, revealing that she was crying.

"S-sorry, Ned," Robarra Baratheon sniffed, tears running down her beautiful face. "Didn't mean to come to you in such a state. Pathetic I know. But I had to tell someone, I didn't know who else I could - "

"It doesn't matter," He said immediately, all traces of annoyance and sleep gone. "What happened?"

Ned, as a rule, was not good with crying girls - his solemn face and serious manner did not tend to be particularly comforting - but this wasn't just some girl. Robarra was his best friend, and had been since he was eight and she was nine. Now he was fifteen, and she was sixteen, a woman grown and due to be married in a couple of years. Things were supposed to be different between them now, but neither of them seemed to want that. 

She certainly shouldn't be sneaking into his rooms in the middle of the night. Not that anything untoward would happen - Robarra would no doubt laugh at the thought, as girls like her did not do untoward things with plain-faced, second sons whom they had known since childhood - but if anyone saw...

But she never cried. Not when she had arrived at the Eyrie, away from her parents for the first time. Not when she had dropped her favourite doll out of the moon door by mistake. Not when she had fallen down the stairs during a stupid game and broken her arm. Not when that awful Corbray girl called her ugly; she had laughed at that.

She was dauntless, a force of nature, the centre of any room she was in. She had a talent for making friends, despite her hot temper, which flared up fast and fierce but was forgotten just as quickly. She laughed loudly and often, making bawdy jests with the men without flinching, giving just as good as she got.

So why was she crying?

"I've been a fool," His friend sat down on his bed, tucking her leg underneath her and shrugging off her cloak, seemingly uncaring that she only wore a thin (but mercifully long) nightdress. "I - " She broke off with a sob, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. She hates to seem weak.

Ned might not be a natural at comforting women, but knew his friend, and silently sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder. Robarra began to cry in earnest then, leaning into him, making his nightshirt wet with tears. Ned was growing more concerned by the minute.

"Did someone hurt you?" He asked, knowing that if anyone had, he would seek them out and make them pay for it without a second thought, despite not being particularly violent.

"N-no," She said. "I just made a stupid mistake and gods, everyone's going to be so angry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just a bit of fun," She turned her tear-stained face to look at him. "Remember that handsome man at the tavern, when we went riding two months ago?"

"Man?" Ned raised an amused eyebrow. "He was my age at most. The blacksmith's 'prentice boy who you were sat in the lap of half the night?"

His friend was a notorious flirt, and good at it too. Every visiting knight or lord looked twice at her, at least, and the handsome ones she paid extra attention. She had a very... womanly figure, with thick black hair that fell to her waist, deep blue eyes, and a beautiful face. Like most Baratheons, she was tall for a women, standing at the same height Ned did. At least they were the same now; she had had her growth spurt before he had, and there had been a year or two when she was a head taller.