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He tugged at the space between his eyelids, though the glove under his gauntlet made doing so fairly obnoxious.
'Urgh' he hadn't drunk significantly since they had departed king's landing, two months ago now, and he had very nearly forgotten what a real killer hangover felt like.
Well no, actually, he hadn't, but he had ignored that better part of his reason during the feast for his victory.
This, of course, meant that he was utterly unprepared when he received a glut of messengers in the morning, not to mention that they were apparently being approached by a somewhat sizable band of Norvosi refugees.
He grabbed a cup of water, splashing it over his face and sputtering as it soaked into the beard that just kept trying to grow back.
As he gradually started to trim it back with his razor he heard a knock at the doorpost.
"Robert?"
"Ah, Ned, come in, come in." He said plainly, his friend was perhaps the only man in the camp who could deal with him in a migraine anyhow. "Trying to avoid the messengers yourself are you? Their crowding about the door woke me up this morning."
"No, nothing like that," Ned said, seemingly more cheerful than usual. "Though I would have thought you'd learned your lesson on drinking so much in our youth, Lord Jon certainly tried to hammer it into us."
"Bah." Robert chuckled. "Drinking for celebration is fine, better than usual at least. Normally when I drink these days it's to make all the shit go away, and then it all comes back in the morning like a headache. With the headache. Bah."
He finished trimming his stubble back into relative clean-shavenness, then turned towards his friend. "So, what brings you here then if it isn't dodging responsibilities."
"Hmmm," Ned said, looking a little guilty. "It's well, it's about Joffrey."
"Did he stab someone or something?" Robert wondered aloud, though Ned seemed surprised by the question so that probably wasn't it.
"No no, nothing like that, it's just, well, I think you may be setting expectations a bit high for the boy."
"Expectations?" Robert asked he couldn't remember ever really expecting much of the boy at all.
"Yes, I went to check on him after the party last night, and he seemed to be under the impression that he had been a coward in Yesterday's battle for needing to be saved, despite being eleven."
"Well, that's hardly reasonable," Robert said, sitting down on his bed. "I told him he was courageous, didn't I? I didn't see my first battle for a few years past that. Did he expect I wanted him to be a knight by the end of the campaign?"
Ned seemed to just look concerned at that, and Robert got a sinking feeling in his gut.
"Oh, he did didn't he?" The king sighed, leaning back onto his bed and splayed his arms out. "Damn, I'm no good for him." Robert chuckled. "No better for him than I am for Westeros, or anything else except war, for that matter."
"You're hardly a poor king, Rob, you've kept the realm stable and put down the Ironborn."
"Jon's kept the realm stable while I've drunk and whored and organized tournaments, and half of both these wars have been Stannis' doing anyway. He thinks I don't notice, but I do, Renly may have killed that damn Tiger yesterday, but Stannis already took a city. It was the same with the Ironborn, but I've always been a shit brother to him." He sighed, leaning back, staring down at his thankfully reduced gut. "Ever since your sister died Ned, I've been shit at everything. The only time I even feel alive is in battle." He pulled his hand down his face, trying to tug at his aching mind.
"Say, Ned."
"Yes?"
"How do you like Joffrey? Do you think you could put up with him?"
Ned seemed taken aback at the question. "You want to have the Crown Prince fostered in Winterfell? That's awful far away from King's landing."
"That's the point, Ned," Robert said, sitting up from his bed. "He deserves better than a shit father like me can give him, and King's landing, especially the boy's mother, is poison. They turn him into more of a little shit every time I'm not looking. I'd ask Jon to take him to the Eyrie, but I need him in King's landing." Robert sighed. "The North would be good for him, better for bringing out the Stag in him, instead of the Lion."
"Why not his uncles then?"
"Who? Stannis? The man has his own children, oh and don't give that look Ned, let me finish. Joffrey was a right brat to Arthur at his tenth name-day, egged on by his mother no doubt, and frankly, I'm worried that young Arthur might kill him."
If Ned had words for that he didn't say them out loud, instead, he was just looking intently with his grim eyes to match Robert's own gaze.
"Joffrey is dead jealous of his cousin, and he's not pleasant to the servants who he likes. Stannis' boy, on the other hand, is both powerful unto himself, and by all accounts takes care of his men like they were his family or vassals at least. I'm half worried he'd fire Joffrey off the front end of one of his cannons the first time he caught the boy beating some page of his senseless."
"I haven't seen Joffrey act that way," Ned said simply.
"Then you haven't seen him with servants, believe me. I caught him beating one when I dragged him out to this war."
Ned seemed to digest that for a moment, before shaking his head. "What of Renly then."
"Promising, but he's still only a little more than a boy. He doesn't know a thing about fathering a child of Joffrey's age. You know plenty."
Ned shook his head. Then finally stood, nodding. "Fine, I'll foster the boy Robert. When should he be sent north?"
"He'll go back with you and your army. His mother will block it the moment we get back to King's landing. The woman is venom, despite her pretty Lannister face."
Eddard seemed pained for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Fine, I'll do it."
Just as Robert was about to say something else, the two turned their heads towards a commotion by the door.
"Take your hands off me you fools, I am the Princess Consort of Dorne and I will damn well have an audience with the King."
Robert's head raced through what he knew of the realm's politics, and felt his headache return with a painful glee, standing up to his feet only assisted by the tent-pole.
"The Seven have no mercy for us today eh Ned?"
"Nor the Old Gods." The man chuckled, and Robert nodded.
"Come on then, let's go stop Prince Doran's wife from throwing yet another of my realms into a fucking rebellion."