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

Starfall

"You can't be serious," Ned stared at his brother.

"And why is that?" Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, grinned wolffishly, though there was a threat there as well as amusement. "Don't think I can handle leading my own army, little brother?"

"You know that's not what I mean," He frowned. "I just find it hard to understand why you would volunteer to take that rock in Blackwater Bay, over searching for your own sister,"

"Well seeing as searching for my sister ended up in being locked in a cell for well over a year last time, you'll likely do a better job at it than I," Brandon clearly saw the look on his face at that, for he made his tone less sharp when he spoke next. "You know how this works, Ned. You know how it appears - the Lord of Winterfell rotting under the Red Keep whilst his younger brother wins a rebellion for him and kills the prince. I need to have some part in this war, otherwise it will be held over my head for the rest of my life. You won the Trident. Now I shall take Dragonstone,"

Despite his wild recklessness, Brandon had spent his entire life being taught how to rule, and had clearly paid attention to some of the lessons their father gave him, at least. He was sharper and more shrewd than his reputation suggested. He did have a point, with this. The men currently respected Ned more than they respected him. That would undoubtedly change with time, however, of which there was plenty to work with once Lyanna was safe.

Brandon's captivity had led to him losing a considerably amount of body weight, leaving a lean and hungry look on his face, and a permanent glimmer of rage in his eyes. His brother was furious that he had watched their father be burnt alive. Furious that Ned got to fight against the Targaryens and kill Rhaegar. All while he had been helpless to do a thing.

"Fine," Ned said flatly. "I can't tell you what to do. But I won't be going with you - I'm taking a group south. All rumours are saying that Rhaegar came back from Dorne,"

"Good," Brandon's anger faded somewhat. "I'd have asked you to do that anyway. I hope you bring her back safe,"

"So do I," 

There was a pause.

"I wish I'd killed Rhaegar myself for what he's done to Lya," Brandon said lowly, somehow solemn and vicious at the same time. "I'd tear him limb from limb,"

"My sword to the neck will have to suffice," Ned said, hesitating. "Brandon, I know you think you've something to prove, but please don't go charging right in there on Dragonstone without thinking it through. Better to wait longer and win,"

His brother's rage immediately flared back up. 

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" He snarled. "Need I remind you that I have been raised for something like this my whole life?"

"No, because I have done it for nearly two years," Ned did not raise his voice, but his tone left no doubt of his rising temper, which took a lot. "This is exactly what I mean. Don't be a fool, and take some damned advice. If not from me, then any one of the lords. I know you, and I know you haven't learned a thing from marching into the Red Keep, demanding Rhaegar come out and die. If not for Lady Robarra, you would have been burning next to Father - "

That had been too far. 

"Oh, gods forbid Eddard Stark let me forget how his favourite whore saved me," Brandon was bearing down on him, still a few inches taller. Ned held his ground, glaring but not saying a word, despite the fact his brother deserved a punch for that. "And don't you dare speak of Father to me - I had to watch him die, Ned, watch him burn," His voice broke on the last sentence, but Ned's sympathy had vanished.

"Fine," He said coldly, ice to his brother's roaring, wolfblooded temper. "Pretend it was not your own actions that got you into this mess. I don't care. Just don't get yourself killed,"