Ned XIV
It was a long time since Ned had woken Robert from a night of heavy drinking.
After the execution of Prince Quentyn - after carrying out the execution himself - the King had retreated to the White Sword Tower and his former apartment there. He'd sent for wine and firmly closed the door.
When Ned tried the door it was unbarred. Possibly it had been all night with nothing but respect for the King keeping the Royal Guard from entering.
Robert was sprawled on the bed, still wearing the black of yesterday, cloak pulled up over him as a blanket. A flagon stood by the bed, a second - empty - was on its side. As Ned entered, Robert opened his eyes.
"How much of this did you drink?" Ned asked, picking up the fallen flagon.
"Pretty much all of it. Oh gods, my head."
"How long has it been?"
"Since I got this drunk or since you had to pick up the pieces?" Robert sat up and rubbed his head. "Quite a while either way."
"I'm amazed," Ned said honestly.
"That bloody stupid boy." Robert twisted and kicked his legs off the side of the bed. On the first attempt he managed to kick over the remaining flagon, which wasn't entirely empty as a trickle of wine spilled onto the flagstones. The second try got his feet under him.
"My father taught me that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. It's the way of the North to look him in the eyes and hear his final words." Ned picked up Robert's discarded cloak and rolled it into a bundle. "You did right by him, Robert. You hardly forced him to poison the Lannister."
Roberts shrugged and took the cloak back. "At least things held together until the Council had agreed on the basic measures. I was worried things would derail entirely."
"Winter is always a concern."
They decended the stairs and left the tower, Robert shading his eyes as the morning sun beamed down on him. "There are still a lot of things to do before I leave for the Wall."
"While we're here, have you made a decision on Pycelle?"
"Him, I wouldn't have nightmares about shortening by a head, the bastard." Robert raked his fingers through his hair. "Probably shouldn't say that though."
"The Grand Maester is very reluctantly of the opinion that the most he can realistically be blamed for is having bad judgement."
"Let him out. Put him on a ship back to Oldtown. Tell him he's not welcome in the Easterlands and that he'd probably be wise not to visit the Westerlands or Dorne either."
"I'll add the North to that list," Ned said with a sour look on his face. "There are a fair number of good Maester's in the North - men I consider good anyway. He's not in their mould."
"Are you sure you want to take a side? There would be something to presenting yourself as a more moderate voice on the Small Council."
"I'm not going to lie about where I stand, Robert."
The king nodded. "Alright. It's your conscience, I just didn't want to cause you trouble."
"I think the Citadel owes me anyway. With all the books being printed there's more need for maesters to teach people how to read. That's why we're building a new Maester's Tower at Wolf's Den."
"Ah." Robert rubbed his unshaven chin. "Well, with all the woods in the North I suppose you'll be profiting by the demand for paper. Are you printing any books up there?"
"Mostly forms. Why do you ask?"
"If all the books in the North are from south of the Neck then people reading them will only get the southern point of view. Having a more... independent view could be useful."
"I see what you mean there," Ned agreed slowly. "Although most Northern traditions aren't written down."
"Maybe they should be... and by people who aren't Maesters."
"You don't trust the Maesters?"
"I don't trust every Maester. Not unreservedly. And let's just say that there History of the Targaryen Kings that's being written up for me has led me to some interesting points about the neutrality of the Maesters. There's an old saying about it being the winners who write the history books - and the Maesters have written just about all of them."
Ned nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to think we owe Jon Arryn for forcing us to learn our letters."
"Aye. And I didn't make it easy on him".
Obara II
A hush fell within the Crown and Obara turned to see that Prince Jaime Lannister had entered the central chamber, at the head of a party of Lannisters in riding leathers.
"Prince Lannister!" called her father.
Had she thought it was silent before? Now it seemed that no one was even breathing. Only days had passed since they shed each other's blood. Obara tried to step between them but Oberyn sidestepped her deftly without even appearing to have registered her presence.
The Prince of the Rock met her father's approach with only the slightest hint of concern. "Prince Martell. Your wounds are healing, I hope?"
"I will recover. Except for the ear. I'll need to style my hair to cover that. And your own wounds?"
"Nothing that won't heal, I'm told."
"By your friend Maester Pycelle?"
"Since he didn't manage to keep my father alive, I don't rely on him for his medical services."
Her father smiled broadly. "A wise decision. It was an excellent fight. I regret the outcome, of course, but it was very exhilarating. We should do it again."
"With training weapons?" suggested an older man who had the Lannister look to him.
"Where's the fun in that, Ser...?"
"Kevan Lannister."
"Ah." Oberyn nodded. "Tywin's brother. You were with him when he sacked King's Landing, weren't you? I remember the name."
The Lannister nodded. "I was. Tell me, Prince Oberyn... if my brother had been the one lying helpless, would you have shown mercy?"
Obara's father shrugged. "In that situation? I would have killed him. His life or my nephews. If the situation was completely reversed, I'm sure Prince Jaime would have done the same."
It looked as if the Lannister would continue but Prince Jaime gestured him to silence. "If I was fighting for my nephew's life, you'd be right. My father and I had our differences but we both care a great deal about our family."
"I can say the same." Oberyn smiled toothily. "Prince Jaime, I wish you a swift and easy ride home to your lovely wife and fine, healthy children."
Jaime's eyes narrowed but there wasn't anything he could specifically take offense at. "And I hope you have a good voyage back to Dorne."
"Ah. I will not be going back to Dorne immediately." Oberyn shrugged. "It seems, having let my nephew down so publically, I should not show my face in Sunspear for a while. And it is so much less handsome than usual, at least until my scars are more healed. So I will be taking ship for Oldtown. I have many happy memories of my time there."
"Well, do enjoy yourself. I hear Maester Pycelle will be going back there."
"Do you know, I have heard the same thing." Stepping back, the Red Viper bowed and made way for the Lannisters to depart - which they did, Kevan Lannister throwing a suspicious look back at them.
Obara walked closer to her father. "Oldtown? I would have thought Essos."
"Ha." He shook his head. "You were thinking Tyrosh, but no. I am not what that young man is looking for." Then he glanced towards Obara's half-sister Tyene. The one who had all but admitted that she had provided Quentyn with the 'medicine' he had used to kill Tywin Lannister.
"You trust her?"
"If she succeeds, it is good. If she fails, it is not so bad. We will see how she manages without her family's support." Oberyn smiled cruelly. "You didn't risk, Obara. That isn't quite so bad, but I expect more of you. Do impress me."
"I'm going to see the Wall."
"Indeed. Commissioned by Prince Doran to inspect the two castles we've been charged to rebuild. Which ones are they...?"
"The Torches and Greenguard," Obara reminded him. "As far away as the two Lannister castles as possible."
"Very wise." Her father gave her a look. "King Robert will be visiting the Wall himself. I expect you to make a good impression. Ingratiate yourself. He seems to be faithful to his wife but he's impressed by skill at arms and by appointing the Queen of Thorns as his Whisperer, he won't mind you're a woman."
"You want his support?"
"It would be well if he thinks that. He knows he has enemies, it would be best if the Baratheon does not consider us to be among them."
Obara nodded. The serpent was most dangerous when no one could see it in the grass.