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

Ours Is The Fury

Ours is the fury indeed. Robarra Baratheon had not forgiven her husband for his ridiculous display at Harrenhal, particularly not when she realised she was pregnant once more. Obviously the child had been conceived before the fiasco with the crown of winter roses, for she had not let him touch her since. As if the stupid fool deserves any more heirs.

"Could you have picked a worse girl to prey on?" She yelled at him once they were in the Red Keep.

She thought she had exercised great restraint in not tearing into him the very night it happened, in front of everyone. She had not exchanged more than two words with her husband since the incident, however, spending as little time near him as possible and not even speaking to him on the journey whilst laughing and joking with everyone else as normal. 

They may be in their own private bedchambers now, but anyone standing outside - or even on this floor of Maegor's Holdfast - would certainly be able to hear. Good.

"High lords don't like their daughters being disgraced in front of half the kingdom, Rhaegar. Not to mention Lyanna is my brother's betrothed, and the sister of my closest friend. You shamed both the Starks and the Baratheons when you give her that blasted crown, and House Targaryen too!"

"I meant no harm by the gesture," His voice was as even and calm as it always was, which riled her temper even more.

"Well you caused harm," She snarled. "Is your head so far up your own arse that you can't see that? Now there will forever be rumours following that poor girl that you deflowered her at Harrenhal. I care not a jot if you're bored with me and fuck some whore or serving wench - so long as I don't have to hear about it - but I tell you now, if I find that you shaming me in the company of any highborn lady, Seven help you," 

Still, his face showed no flicker of... of anything. She would almost rather he struck her. 

"I understand why you are angry, Robarra," His tone remained the same. "And I apologise if I caused you any upset - "

"Upset? Upset? I am not weeping like some teary-eyed maid - I am furious. You disgraced me, and my house, and the Starks in front of thousands of people!"

"That was not my intention," He had the air of someone who knew they were right, and the other person was being unreasonable. Like his good intentions were obvious, and she was just too short-sighted to see them.

"Then what was?" She roared, hating being patronised. "You cold, miserable bastard, tell me what your intention was!"

He fell silent. One second, two, three, four, five - 

At his continued lack of words, Robarra made a noise of disgust and, in a swish of skirts, left for her private chamber, slamming the door behind her as loud as possible.

"Tell the stables to saddle my horse," She snapped at one of the maids who was making her bed, seeing the girl flinch at her furious tone. "Or get a guard to, if you're busy,"

"Yes milady," The maid hastily curtseyed, scrambling to tell one of the guards at the door. 

Robarra quickly changed into an old, green hunting dress, delighting in the fact it was perhaps the shabbiest garment she owned. She did not want to look like a princess - not when being married to the prince was so infuriating - and would enjoy being dressed like a tavern wench instead. Never mind that she was not meant to be riding at all in her condition.

She didn't argue when two of the guards insisted on riding out with her - how she missed the days when it was just her and Ned, Lord Arryn trusting him enough to escort her - but drove her horse at such a pace that they were hard-pressed to keep up with her. She probably should have brought one of the Kingsguard, but didn't really care much. The Kingswood Brotherhood were long-since defeated, what danger was there here?