THE LITTLE PUP (EDITING AND REWRITING)

5.

King Robert couldn't bring himself to believe that the girl that he had just been faced with was real. In his head, she was but a stupid fantasy of his youth, a ghost of his past, the effect of wine in his system... or perhaps just all the above combined in only one person.

He stood in the crypt with Ned as they walked towards the statue of the girl he knew was real and that died tragically fourteen years prior. Perhaps Lilia Stark, as she was called, was a gift from the Gods to him and his beloved Lyanna reborn. It was a comfort to think of things that way, at least to him.

"Tell me about Jon Arryn," Ned asked him in a clear attempt to distract him from the idea of his daughter standing in line next to her siblings with a grace that was resembling of Lyanna's and beauty just as northern. The intention behind the question was good but the fact that they were headed to Lyanna's place in the crypt, it felt only contradicting.

"One minute he was fine and then... it went right through him... whatever it was. I loved that man" Robert said with difficulty. It was hard talking about it, not only because of the memory he kept of Jon Arryn, but also because he had seen him die.

"We both did" his friend agreed as Jon Arryn had been more than a tutor to them. Both saw him as a father and after Robert's parents died in that bloody sinking ship... he was the only one he had. It had been Jon Arryn that had joined them together, that had made them the best of friends and above all, brothers in all but blood. Had it not been for him and they wouldn't be as close, even if Robert had married Lyanna as it was bound to happen. And if it had not been for him, Robert wouldn't be alive and the kingdoms would have been in a much worse shape. "He never had to teach you much. But me? Do you remember me at sixteen?"

The thought was humourous just as the memories were. Robert could still remember how strong he used to be, how handsome, how so full of joy he had once been. Now, it was only wine that brought him joy... that and his whores, of course. The handsomeness had faded with the course of time and the strength hadn't been put to use in years.

How he missed riding through the fields with his hammer in hand, bringing his rage upon the silver-haired bastards! He missed the times when everything was easier and he didn't have people in his ear, bothering him about matters of state he never had the mind to worry about.

Ned had always been shy and quiet during their youth, and perhaps that was why they had grown so tight. Robert was the opposite; from his youth, he'd always Ned remembered the young, teenage Robert. The boy with black hair and a trimmed beard, with blue eyes and easy smiles that every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamt of. Robert admired Ned to a certain extent because his friend wasn't stupid as he had been. But it wasn't in Robert's nature to keep to himself, he never cared about what would be thought of him, he didn't care if he was being too bold... he would just do as he pleased. He took too many risks and got the bloody Iron Throne as a reward for it.

"All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. Not sure of what was what" he added, giggling as he did. "Don't look at me like that. It's not his fault I didn't listen!" Robert defended the man. Ned stopped and laughed about it. Robert wondered if that was the right time to ask him but how could he know? As far as he was concerned, there was no good timing for a request like that one. "I need you, Ned. Down there in King's Landing. Up here we have no damn use to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King".

Ned was shocked, as expected and was quick to bend the knee and look at his feet like a scared little boy. "I'm not worthy of the honour"

It didn't surprise Robert. He knew his friend would react that way and why would he not? Ned was just like Jon Arryn, always thinking about honour. The difference was that Jon Arryn could think of other matters but not his friend. Even at war, all those years ago, he'd gone off South after the Sack of King's Landing because it hadn't been honourable.